Chapter Text
Icy cold made Aravax gasp as he hit the pebbled beach of an unknown island. Frost clung to the beach and surf, chilling him to the bone. It was made more painful as the large knight who had thrown him from the boat jumped out onto the shore and kicked him in the ribs.
Aravax yelped, tears coming to his eyes. He had never been struck a day in his pampered life. Never mistreated once. And now here, a knight who was supposed to have been loyal to his royal line was kicking him! “I’ll see you dead for this!” Aravax cried. “I am the rightful heir!”
“Up until a week ago I would have agreed,” the knight replied, his voice dulled by the cloak he wore tightly around him to try and ward of the bitter chill. “But your father’s dead. Your uncle has won the throne.”
“Treachery!” Aravax spat, but everything the knight said was true. His uncle had claimed the throne the instant Aravax’s father had stopped breathing. Aravax had never thought to cultivate a group of soldiers loyal to him, he had always assumed, foolishly now, that all his family was loyal, that no one would try and take his rightful throne away.
The knight shrugged. “Maybe. But he’s a better man than you by far.” He kicked Aravax again. “Weak, pampered little princeling. You would have led the kingdom to ruin. Better an iron hand than a soft one. Even this is a mercy, if you think about it. A quick death out here instead of leaving you to die whining and alone.”
Aravax blinked back tears, more due to the knight’s words than the pain he felt in his body. The cold was starting to numb him through. He hadn’t known that all these years the kingdom had thought him soft. He had been pampered, true, but what prince wasn’t? Why did they hate him so much? Was it that he kept his golden hair long and not in the military style that was so much the fashion? Was it because he preferred to stay out of the sun and his skin was as light and fair as a maiden’s? Was it that he wasn’t a huge muscled noble pretending to be a knight, but instead was slender?
It occurred to him then that he was by no means a picture of what anyone would want to call a king. Maybe that’s why every advisor had backed his uncle. Maybe that’s why he was here in the middle of nowhere, freezing on some unnamed shore.
But surely, he had to have one friend. Surely someone had to have been looking out for him? “If I’m so hated then why am I here and not dead in an unmarked grave?” Aravax snapped, trying to sound fierce but he only sounded brattish and whiney.
“You know the custom,” spat the knight. “Kill a royal on their old soil and all the bad luck rains down from the sky. Our new king certainly doesn’t need any of that.”
“Oh, so now my uncle wants to adhere to custom?” Aravax snarked. “He should have done that before he decided to take the throne from me.”
His uncle was the only family he had left. He would have been his chief advisor! But no, the greedy bastard only wanted it for himself.”
That earned him another kick from the knight. He barely felt that one, a bad sign. His body was almost numb.
The knight spat on him, his disdain evident. “You might have been a tolerable king without that mouth of yours, you know.”
“Valda hurry up!” another knight from the boat urged anxiously. “I don’t like this place. I don’t know where we are. This doesn’t seem right. I thought there was nothing this far out here but glaciers, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say we were on an island.”
“There are no islands this far north, fool!” Valda snapped. “We can barely see with all this mist anyway! It must be some sort of rock shelf.” A sword slowly rasped from its sheath sending Aravax’s heart into palpitations. “But you’re right. I don’t like this place either. Better to end him now.”
Dread filled Aravax’s heart as he looked up. The knight’s sword was barely visible in the thick mist. “Any last words princeling?”
Aravax had quite a few actually and had he not been so scared he would have put that famously clever tongue of his to good use, but looking at his death so close, he felt his throat go dry. Whimpering pathetically he scrunched up as tight into a fetal position as he could, even with his arms tied cruelly behind his back, and screwed his eyes shut tight.
The knight laughed cruelly at Aravax’s cowardice. “Pathetic. The least you could do is die like a man.”
The blade hissed as it came down. Aravax tensed, his bladder releasing in terror. He expected to feel the keen blade slice into him, to find his heart or lungs or something, but instead the blade clattered to the pebbly shore.
Aravax peeked open an eye and saw the knight who had been about to kill him standing straight and still.
No, that wasn’t quite the truth. He was upright, sure enough, but his feet weren’t on the ground. A huge hand was around his neck, so large that it fully encircled the knight’s neck. The hand gave a mighty squeeze and there was a pop as vertebrae separated, killing the knight instantly.
Aravax looked up further, trying his best to follow the arm and saw a huge figure in the mist looming over him.
“Valda!” One of the knights on the boat screamed.
The three knights that had accompanied their ally spilled out of the boat. Swords sang from their sheathes and plated books scraped across the pebbled shore as the three remaining knights charged the huge, mist-clad figure.
The figure dropped the dead knight and stood his ground as the three knights charged. Their swords flashed out in the mist, but the huge creature was faster.
Aravax watched in horror as one man’s arm was grabbed and his shoulder was unceremoniously yanked from his body. The punch that came after silenced him for good.
The other two knights flanked the big figure. They swung expertly just as the figure turned, pushing the unarmed, body of the second dead knight to the man on his left. The sword scraped against the armor of the dead knight and before he could dance away the big figure had him. There came another snap in the mist and the third man dropped, dead.
The final knight, to his credit, didn’t back down but charged, but the mist-clad figure was no longer holding anyway. The blade sliced at the big creature’s shoulder but he didn’t so much as grunt in pain. Instead he stepped to the knight wrapping his arms around him.
The knight couldn’t swing his sword, trapped as he was. He shouted and struggled but to no avail as the big thing stepped out of the mist and for the first time Aravax could see it was a man.
The biggest man he had ever seen in his life. He had to have been at least two meters tall. His brown hair was shaggy as well as his beard. He wore stinking hides and pelts that Aravax’s delicate nose could smell over the surf and blood.
The knight struggled but the big man didn’t care. His blue eyes were like chips of ice as he walked towards the surf, squeezing and squeezing the trapped knight.
Aravax heard the armor the knight wore beneath his clothing dent and scrape.
He heard ribs snapping next.
The knight gave out a final frightened cry but it was barely a whisper as the huge man literally squeezed the life out of him. When he was dead the big man dropped him like the others.
Aravax looked on, terrified, his breath coming in panicked sharp inhales. The tide was coming in, already lapping at the dead knights’ boots. Was he next? Did the big man think him dead?
While the questions raged in his mind, the big man stomped towards the rowboat wedged on the shore. He grasped it and pushed it out so that it disappeared into the misty sea.
Then he turned to Aravax.
Those bright blue eyes seemed to burn clean through the mist directly at him. Slowly he stomped forward, looming over the princeling.
Aravax stared up at him in terror, still unable to speak from the fear clogging his throat. Surely he would be next. Surely the man would crush him as he had easily done four knights.
The big man stared at him a moment more, then bent down and with one hand easily scooped him up. Lighter it seemed than a pillow, he threw Aravax over his shoulder and stomped inland, disappearing into the mysterious mist of an island that should not have been.
The warmth of a crackling fire gentle awoke Aravax.
For a moment, he thought he was back at the castle, warm in bed, with a cup of something sweet to banish any nightmares away, then the past week came rushing back into his mind.
Gasping, Aravax sat bolt upright, despite the pain in his side. He found himself in was little more than a hovel, one room, though large. The walls were made of cobb and the dirt floor was covered by ash-sprinkled pelts of various beasts. On the rafters hung various drying herbs, and at the center of the room was a long rectangular firepit that blazed brightly. A spit of pine would sat over the fire and upon it was a hunk of greasy meat that sizzled as each drop of fat fell into the fire.
Outside, the sounds of a bitter winter storm howled and swirled at the wooden door.
Leaning his back against the wall, Aravax rubbed his bruised side and realized then two things. One, his arms were no longer tied, and two his side had been wrapped up. At least as best it could with strips of animal hide.
Aravax looked around, trying to find the person who had bandaged him up. Had there really been a huge man that had saved him or in his terror had he made it up?
The silent question was answered a moment later as the door to the hovel opened and said huge man lumbered inside with a huge armload of firewood.
He was even bigger now, in the firelight than when Aravax had seen him in the mist. He still wore the same stinking pelts draped over his body, his brown hair and beard shaggier than even the worst beggars of his former kingdom.
Those eyes, though, those blue eyes left no mistake that this was the same man who had carried him over his shoulder through woodland until exhaustion had won him so far over that despite his terror, he had fallen asleep.
He was awake now, though, awake and alone with his… rescuer?
The man closed the door, blocking out most of the frigid air and dumped the wood beside the stone firepit in the middle of the room.
When the job was done, the big man wiped his hands on one of the pelts he wore and looked at Aravax. He didn’t seem surprised he was awake, nor surprised that he was there at all, as if he had just not rescued a prince from four murderous knights.
“Well?” Aravax said at last, hating the silence that the big man seemed so comfortable in. He hated silence. He had always been the first to strike up a conversation anywhere.
“Orrun,” the big man said unhelpfully. His voice was deep and a little gravely, rough and uncouth as the man himself.
Aravax glared at him with no small amount of derision fueled by his irritation and the waning of his fear. “What?”
“Name,” Orrun supplied.
Again the man spoke as if stringing more than five words together was an ordeal! “Not very talkative, are you?” Aravax muttered, lowly.
“Not really.” Orrun didn’t pretend that he hadn’t heard, nor did he appear upset. Moving closer to firepit, he carved a hunk of glistening, fatty meat from the spit and dropped it into the only bowl in the entire hut.
Aravax couldn’t help but press his back tighter the cobb wall as the man drew nearer, looming and huge. Gods but he was a big man, the biggest he had ever met, no doubt topping just over two meters! Orrun stood over him just a moment, blue eyes firm, unmoving, then slowly he crouched and put the steaming chunk of meat in front of him. “Eat.”
Hunger announced itself in Aravax’s stomach, agreeing to Orrun’s words with a loud growl, but Aravax stayed where he was. The prince eyed the hunk of meat warily. “You wouldn’t happen to have something less… once alive, would you?”
“Winter is nearly gone.” Orrun shrugged.
Despite himself, Aravax pinched his lips in displeasure. He kingdom wasn’t so far away from the frigid north that he didn’t understand, up here, where the winters were far more brutal than the already brutal winters of his kingdom, supplies could dwindle fast. At the ass-end of winter as they were whatever stores the man had built up were no doubt in short supply, doubly so now that he had a “guest”.
“I understand, er… Orrun, but I have a bit of a disliking of meat.” He guessed the man wouldn’t understand why so added, “I am a prince where I come from, Prince Aravax. I am not accustomed to such simple fare.”
Orrun only shrugged at that. He took the bowl of meat and sat on the other side of the fire and helped himself, his large fingers became slick with grease as well as his beard.
Aravax watched in dismay then finally sighed. “Could you at least take me somewhere else after you finish eating? I really am I prince.”
“I believe you,” Orrun said simply.
Aravax’s face brightened hopefully. “So you’ll take me elsewhere?”
Orrun sucked on a piece of gristle. “Can’t,” he replied while chewing.
“Why not?” Aravax whined brattishly.
Orrun remained more concerned with his dinner. “The island.”
Right. The island. The island that shouldn’t have been there. The island where the man had pushed the only boat away the knights had used. The only boat that Aravax was sure had probably touched the island in decades.
“So where is the island that we’re on exactly?” Maybe he could try to remember his geography studies and triangulate the nearest coast.
Orrun only shrugged.
Temper rising, Aravax smashed his fist petulantly against his thigh. “Do you know anything?!” he screamed.
Orrun looked up from his dinner.
Aravax froze, realizing, belatedly that he may have made an error. He was at this man’s mercy, alone with him and had just screamed at the man who saved his life.
Slowly the man rose, wiping the grease from his fingers on his pelts.
Aravax backed up further against the wall, eyes filled with fear. “Wait, I didn’t… I… well….” His throat froze as the man drew nearer, until he was towering over the slight, blond haired Aravax.
The big man slowly crouched in front of him until they were eye to eye. With him so close, Aravax smell him, the smoke from the fire clung to his beard and the tang of sweat was evident. He could still see the knight’s blood on the man’s face. It was on his hands too, cracked and dried upon all his fingers.
This man, this, huge, huge man who towered over the princeling’s, modest five foot seven inches even crouching down, was strong enough to kill four armed, trained knights. He could do much, much worse to Aravax.
The man kept his blue eyes fixed to Aravax’s green then slowly lifted a hand.
Aravax flinched, tensing, but the man lifted it right over his head and to a cubby high in the wall. He pulled down a hide sack and dug into it, bringing forth a few wizened carrots, then laid them on Aravax’s lap and returned back to his place on the other side of the fire.
By morning the winter storm had passed.
Aravax walked through the woodlands where the man’s hovel stood, lost but desperate. The thick pelt he had slept upon was now wrapped around him fiercely as if it was the only way to protect himself.
He didn’t know where he was going, but that hardly mattered. He needed to get out of the sweltering hovel, to walk, to think about his next move.
He walked stiffly, still sore from the kicks the knight had given him, but he was glad he was up and moving after a restless night. Though he had eventually fallen asleep again, a few carrots fuller, he knew once he opened his eyes that he couldn’t stay abed like he would have at the castle. He had to find a way off the island.
But that was easier said than done.
He could have asked Orrun, but there were several problems with that. One, Orrun had already told him there was no way off the island, and two and couldn’t find the man! He had been gone when Aravax had awakened and hadn’t returned, so in his absence he had set off on his own through the forest.
Though he hated himself for it, he wished the man was somewhere around. At least he could guide him some even if he didn’t think there was any way off the island. He couldn’t help but think of his large hands, holding him as he had carried him over his shoulder.
Shaking the concerning thought away, the princeling forged ahead aimlessly as if trying to outrun the memory. “Damnit, where in the great freeze am I?” Aravax asked as he stomped through the forest. It was only the thick blanket of forest duff and pine needles that helped mute his footfalls, else he would have sounded like an idiot lost in the woods.
Which, though he refused to admit it, was exactly what he felt like.
Lost, yes, and most likely he would be dead in no time at all too.
The knights had been right when they said that killing him was a kindness instead of leaving him alive on the beach. He would probably die there. He would have been dead a thousand times over had Orrun not found him, saved him from the cold. If anything happened to Orrun he’d be dead, no question.
He had spent his entire life at court, learning politics and guile. He had an athletic frame, sinewy and well formed, but only due to the few outside interests’ princes and nobles were expected to attain for leisure. He had no great stamina and he certainly had never had to dig in the dirt for vegetables or shoot an arrow into a deer for dinner.
The very thought of the second scenario wanted to make him gag. He had a weak stomach, always had. Luckily, he’d always enjoyed fruits and vegetables more and never made it a habit to eat much meat.
Being stuck with Orrun, though, he thought that might have to change. Seeing the man’s face and fingers covered with grease beneath the dried blood of the knights burned his mind. He feared he would get very little choice about anything if he stayed here.
And to his horror, he didn’t know if that terrified or excited him.
Stuffing down his conflicting, concerning emotions, Aravax continued to plunge blindly through the forest until he heard the rushing of water.
The sound lifted his spirits and he ran clumsily towards it. Maybe he was close to the seashore. Maybe the boat had somehow gotten pushed back to shore with the tide and he could row free of the island! Of course he didn’t know where the island way, but it was a hope!
Faster and faster he ran, the sound growing louder, deafening the sound of his crashing through the forest. As the trees began to thin, he slowed and saw the water source. It wasn’t the ocean at all, but a large waterfall. Snowfall from the top of the jagged mountain ran down in cascades of pure blue water, billowing frothy white foam. The cataract was vicious higher up, but grooves in the mountainside sent the water spilling down dozens of falls, until one ended in a crystal blue pool at the base of the mountain. The water that fell there was less turbulent, filling the large pool with icy water that lapped placidly upon its banks.
In the center of the icy pool stood Orrun. The few rancid pieces of clothing the big man wore had been peeled off and were drying on a limb not far from where Aravax stood. They smelled better than last night and he figured the big man had tried giving them a wash, just as he was washing himself.
Standing there, fully naked in the crystal-clear pool, Aravax finally got his first good look at the man. Orrun appeared to be twenty or so years older than himself. His shaggy brown hair dripped water down his stern, rugged face. His thick beard had been a little trimmed, no doubt thanks to some sharp object carried about on his person. He hadn’t cut the beard close, but it no longer dangled to his chest, instead just a bit busy around his stoney jaw. That was all the trimming he could say that Orrun had done, the rest of his body was sufficiently hairy, his back, chest, arms, legs, all thickly pelted with almost auburn hair.
Orrun’s tall body was huge and muscular but it wasn’t some perfectly toned body the knights had, this was a body made from rough, hard living. Layered above his muscles was a small layer of fat especially on his stomach, making it bulge just a bit, like men who liked too much ale, but Aravax could tell that beneath that layer of fat was all muscle, every devastating inch of him. He would have crushed a score of knights as easily as he had the four from yesterday.
Aravax continued to stare at him, taking him all in, until Orrun began to rise and it was then, Aravax realized the man must have been squatting or treading the water somehow and had only now decided to stand up, revealing thick muscled, hairy thighs.
The crystalline water raced down his body and Aravax’s gaze followed the drops until they came to Orrun’s groin. The body didn’t do the big man’s cock justice, in that it made the rest of him look small in comparison. Orrun’s cock had to have been as long as Aravax’s forearm and nearly as girthy. The thing hung between his legs with a quiet pride. Thick veins ran along the length. Orrun was uncut and the foreskin looked soft and pliable. A treasure trail on his stomach led to a thick thatch of darker auburn hair at the root of his cock, now glistening with the cold water. His balls were huge, each easily a handful in their own right, like holding two massive coin purses stuffed full with gold.
Aravax stilled, unable to do anything but ogle. He had never seen anything more perfect. Not that he had ever looked. He had been destined to marry a nice high-ranking noblewoman from the east before his uncle had usurped him. He had never actually looked at a man’s privates with any real intensity before, but he was staring now, and hard. If cold was said to make it shrink then what would it look like warmed up?!
The question was answered almost immediately as he realized Orrun’s cock was twitching. The water rippled as it slowly came to full mast without Orrun even laying a hand on it.
Aravax’s mouth went dry completely of its own volition. The tip of Orrun’s massive cock batted just beneath his bellybutton, fully erect, huge and hard and wanting.
But wanting what?
Terror suddenly doused Aravax’s shock. They might be the only two people on the island. Had Orrun spotted him?
Slowly his eyes drew upwards, horrified that he would find Orrun looking at him, but the big man’s head was turned to the right, focused on someone else entire.
No, not someone, something.
Aravax turned to look in the same direction as Orrun, just as a huge elk stag appeared out of the woodland. It was a majestic thing with a dozen tines on its huge horned head. It was easily the size of one of the knight’s warhorses. It came out boldly near the pool, its ears flicking. Slowly, and without fear it knelt to drink and to Aravax it seemed like an invitation.
He didn’t seem to be the only one to think so for Orrun walked slowly towards the creature until he stepped out of the pool. Stroking the massive beast between its horns, he spoke low words that Aravax couldn’t hear.
Orrun didn’t move much, only stroking the beast between the horns. He had even stopped talking. The beast finally finished drinking and lifted its head, regarding Orrun with intense brown eyes. The beast blew a little snort, sending water droplets into the air, then leaned forward and rubbed his head against Orrun’s shoulder fondly. A lash of the elk’s long dark blue tongue flicked the air, as if tasting for something, then, to Aravax’s shock, the beast turned so that its hindquarters faced Orrun. Front legs first, then back, it went to its knees until its belly was on the pine-needle covered ground.
The creature was so huge that Orrun did not need to do the same. They were, more at less, at an even height now.
A sixth sense told Aravax what was about to happen but he couldn’t make himself believe it. He could only look on in shock and watch.
Orrun stroked the stag’s soft flanks, his big hands that had been killing knights only a few hours ago were surprisingly gentle now. The elk lifted up its short, white leaf-shaped tail, revealing its tight brown hole all on its own.
This couldn’t be happening, Aravax thought. This didn’t happen! This was impossible! His brain kept screaming those things, but it happened right before him. Orrun spat on his cock, doing his best to make it slippery. He grabbed the elk’s haunches firmly, braced his hairy legs and slowly, questing, pressed his cock to the elk’s anus.
Slowly the thick mushroom tip slipped inside the elk. Though it was massive, so was the elk, and though it heaved a few heavy breathes, the creature didn’t stir, used to this.
Orrun moaned hugely as he slowly inserted more of his thick, veiny manhood into the bestial hole.
Aravax watched as inch after inch disappeared, the elk’s hole widening around that massive member. In no time at all, Orrun had hilted. He leaned his top weight against the beast and began to thrust. Those powerful, hairy thighs quivered, his tight bum bouncing just a bit as he pummeled himself inside the elk.
The elk flung its head back, panting now as well, and Orrun’s huge hands that had easily crushed a knight’s throat gripped onto those horns. Pre-cum leaked freely from Orrun’s massive manhood, leaking out around the seal his cock made in the beast’s anus, adding more lubrication. The sound of it was wet and sticky and sucking as he pulled out halfway only to ram himself to the hilt over and over.
Aravax stood frozen, his mind trying to understand what he was seeing. He had never imagined something like this, had never even heard of anything like this. Men didn’t fuck one another let alone beasts, male beasts at that!
It suddenly struck Aravax right then and there that his entire life had just shifted, irrevocably, dynamically. He was no longer the prince of an illustrious realm, no one was coming to save him and there was no way out. He was stuck on this island with a man who fucked animals, for good.
His brain was still trying to reconcile it as the beast flopped over to its side. It was panting hard now, one of its back legs splayed up awkwardly now that it laid on its side.
A huge spotted cock of white and pink now heaved out of the beast’s sheath, so hot that it steamed in the chilly air.
Orrun didn’t so much as pause, his hips hammered even faster. He leaned over and grabbed the elk’s massive member, reminding Aravax on just how large Orrun was by being able to nearly wrap his whole hand around that monster of an elk cock.
He frenziedly stroked the beast, both of them panting haggardly. Sweat now replaced the water that had been on Orrun’s body. He hand-fucked the elk’s cock as much as it could. A half neigh, half honking sound erupted from the stag. Its cock twitched as it began to cum, pumping rope after thick, stringy white rope of gooey semen unto the ground and its belly. Its hind legs bucked and spasmed while it orgasmed, but Orrun was still going strong. The big man kept pumping as he stroked the beast.
It seemed to Aravax to go on for longer than he had ever heard of a man making love, then, finally, his thrusts became wilder, the rhythm lost. It was all need now. He grunted and puffed, shoulders rising and falling with massive breaths.
He finally let out a shout of pleasure as he hilted. His thighs trembled and his balls tightened and hitched. Aravax could practically hear the schlorp of thick ropes of cum pumping from Orrun. The man kept himself hilted tightly, his head tossed forward as he dumped the last of his load.
He didn’t pull out immediately, didn’t make a move. It was the elk who finally got to his feet. He stepped away and Orrun’s cock slid out of his anus, revealing a gooey gaping mess. Cum dripped and ran freely from the widened, winking hole.
Orrun finally moved, walking back to the pool where he cleaned up again, the after glow of sex flush on him.
The beast didn’t run off either. It only took another drink of water, then began to munch on a few newly bloomed flowers it pawed free from the snow. It would have been completely normal had cum not still been steadily leaking out of its well-fucked hole.
As Orrun finally began to clean himself off the second time, it struck Aravax that the man would probably be finished with his rendezvous and his bath soon enough. The clothes were probably dry too and if he didn’t move, Orrun was sure to notice him there.
The thought terrified the prince. He didn’t want Orrun to know that he knew.
Mind awhirl with terror, and though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, intrigue, Aravax backed away into the thick darkness of the forest once more and ran, ran for dear life, ran as if he was being pursued, but all that hounded him now was the true, unerring fact that his entire life had changed forever and he was stuck with the huge, animal fucking man called Orrun.