AN: Thank you for those who have reviewed so far, I am reading and appreciating your suggestions! All constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Be warned, this chapter will contain graphic bits towards the end but it will be flagged in story, so if you want to skip to the next chapter once that part starts feel free to.
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The men who perished were brought home on rough gurneys made of branches which were dragged along the ground. Keldin had gone ahead to Markarth to pass along word of their victories and send for horses for the bodies. The journey home was much slower due to wounds and the burden of the bodies, but Argis didn't mind as it gave him time to think.
Quietly dragged two bodies behind him, he marched stolidly onward. He mentally thought over the end of the battle with the Forsworn and doubted himself. Was he right to have criticized Keldin? Besides the problem of speaking back to his superior the survivors had needed something to rally behind. The people of Markarth would also be ecstatic over the death of a briarheart and would heap praise upon all those involved in the battle. It was the callous disregard for the dead in Keldin's words that disgruntled him. The Imperials would have termed the dead "acceptable casualties" or something similarly empty, and Keldin didn't seem to see them as anything else. He took solace in the fact that the dead would be properly interred by a priest of Arkay and that their loss would be remembered along with the accomplishments of the living being celebrated.
He shook his head at the nagging worry left by the very fact that he doubted his thane. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. The skald's stories always told of housecarls fearlessly following their thanes, implicitly trusting them, and even giving their lives in the defence of their thane. He felt disappointed in himself for not being a true housecarl. The other men appeared to be similarly lost in thought on the walk back and conversation was minimal and very utilitarian.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, the walls of Markarth came into sight and the spirits of the survivors lifted. Soon, snippets of excited talk began to break out among the bearers about the feasting waiting for them back in the city. Argis quietly frowned, realizing that the horses Keldin had promised never came. The horses weren't to make the lives of the living easier, but to give the honoured dead a swifter and more dignified transport. Realizing that he was doubting his thane again, Argis shook his head and tried to be lifted by the cheer surrounding him as his fellow soldiers rejoiced.
Jarl Igmund met them at the gate and smiled broadly at them. A small crowd cheered for the returning fighters. The jarl called out, "Today a great victory has been struck against the Forsworn horde. Another one of their briarhearts and many of their warriors fell before the blades of our new thane and the men he led."
He gestured to the bodies being born behind Argis before continuing, "And though we lost some as well, the sacrifices of the honour dead shall not be forgotten. The victory of today would not be possible without them and so they shall be cared for in the halls of Sovngarde!" At this point a priest of Arkay and some assistants dragged the bodies away from the soldiers and towards the crypt.
Igmund waited until the dead were removed before grinning again and announcing, "As we honour the dead, so to must we honour the living. A great victory was struck today and we shall let any remaining Forsworn hear of our joy, no matter where they hide. Come, join us after refreshing yourselves."
Argis was familiar with this gesture. Though the large feasts could be expensive, they helped to cement the approval of the people and make for a popular ruler. By feasting the soldiers, small victories are also blown into major victories to raise the prestige of the hold compared with the other lands. With the silver mines opening up, Markarth was in no short supply of coin, making costs less important than the result.
Argis stopped by his house quickly to wash most of the dirt and a few fleck off blood off his armour and body. He made sure to run his wet cloth behind his ears and over his blunt-but handsome features, just as his mother had taught him as a child. He quickly changed out of his armour into his nicest shirt and breeches he had. He quickly washed the grit from his shoulder-length hair and ran a straight razor over his face quickly. He stroked his clean-shaven face with a smile and he readied himself for the celebration. It was always a raucous affair but those being honoured had to show up looking their best, even if not in full military accoutrements.
He walked quickly to Understone Keep where the celebrants were already beginning to enjoy themselves. Argis wasn't the first one of the soldiers to enter, nor was he the last and he mingled with the crowd as the last of the men trickled in.
Many of the people he spoke with congratulated him on the victory, but conversation inevitably shifted to his thane. How did he lead? How did he fight? Was a good thane? Argis wanted to voice his honest opinion but bit his tongue and kept his answers praising but minimal.
The Jarl stood and the crowd fell silent to listen to his pronouncement. The Jarl's voice echoed slightly in the stone confines of the chamber as he declared, "Keldin, our newest thane, has been in our service for only a short time but has already led us in victory against those who would destroy us. He did not win this battle alone, though, and the contributions of the others must be noted. In particular, Keldin wishes to praise Argis the Bulwark who stood not only sword-to-sword with against the Forsworn but also slew the briarheart." Applause broke out and Argis smiled awkwardly, wanting to mention the archer who had made the victory possible. He held back, knowing the importance of a hero. If Keldin had wished to thank him, he could have done it on the field of battle instead of this pretentious gathering of merchants and social elite. "Now," began the jarl, "we will truly feast in celebration of our victory!" Thunderous applause rang out and bottle of mead was shoved into Argis' hand.
It seemed every guest wanted to curry favour with the briarheart slayer and his thane. Argis lost track of the people who wanted him to pass on their congratulations and various offers to Keldin. The constant meads being forced into his hand didn't help with his concentration either, and he wasn't sure if it was too much mead or the favour seekers that was making him feel slightly nauseated. He politely excused himself and watched as the people promptly forgot about him.
He stepped out into the brisk night air and breathed it in happily. The soft sound of the nearby waterfalls soothed him as he stepped away to urinate into a channel he knew was headed for the sea. He felt the cool mists softly fall on his skin as he walked to a secluded area. The night was brisk, but it was not cold enough to make him consider going back in right away. Usually, the parties turned into power plays by the city's elite as the night wore on and Argis knew he wouldn't be missed. He and the other victors were just an excuse for the Jarl to get everyone who mattered into the same room.
He undid the laces on his breeches as he debated even returning to the party or just going home before tomorrow's hangover got any worse. He smiled and sighed in relief as he began to release his full bladder. The soft sound of footsteps on the hard stone of the walkway alerted him to someone else approaching. He looked away from the approaching person, hoping it wasn't someone else looking for him to pass a word on to Keldin. Didn't they know the thane had his own damn ears?
A man's voice, not as deep as his own and soft, spoke up, "Oh, sorry. Didn't know this was being used." Argis looked back towards the man and recognized one of the soldiers from the battle who was only a few years older than Argis.
He finished and was lacing his breeches up when the man coughed slightly before asking, "Mind if I go anyway? I'd have to cross the party to get to the next sea-bound grate."
Argis laughed slightly and nodded with, "Of course! I wouldn't subject another person to that party if I could help it."
Argis quickly drank in the man's handsome features, ice blue eyes, and close cropped black hair as he began to slowly walk away. He mustered his self-control and pulled his eyes off the prominent cheekbones and strong jaw and was about to start walking away from the urinating man. When the other man began, "I don't think we were ever introduced. I'm Firjald by the way. You are, of course, Argis the Bulwark." He stopped for a moment to begin lacing up his own breeches before continuing, "It's nice to actually talk to another warrior and hear something other than the empty praises inside."
Argis felt his heart rate pick up, but tried to crush it with firm pragmatism. The man was just making conversation and, like Argis, didn't want to return to the party. It didn't mean anything, but he hoped anyway. He bit his lip for a moment while Firjald wasn't looking. The mead must have muddled his mind because he replied candidly, "The sycophants in there only look for favour with those in power." Firjald nodded at Argis and smiled, revealing perfectly straight white teeth.
The blonde couldn't help but smiling back at the attractive man. His father's voice flashed through his mind, "Looking to conquer a Nord man is just as worthy a challenge as trying to conquer a Nord woman." What his father hadn't mentioned was the stigma attached to the one being conquered. It was the quiet looks, muttered words, and lost esteem that had happened to other men which made Argis keep away from love. The conqueror had faced no repercussions and even rarely saw an increase in esteem, while his lover almost always lost it. One thing Argis had never told his father was that, despite his size and physicality, he wanted to be conquered.
Firjald dragged the other man's thoughts back to the present by casually mentioning, "Sure are some pretty girls in there though." His eyes mischievously twinkled before he added, "You seem to enjoy the mead and meat, but never the women – is there a woman who has gotten behind the Bulwark's defences to reach his heart? What maid has made the warrior a man?"
Argis mentally sighed as his pragmatic half crowed triumphantly over his imaginative half. He gave Firjald a smile before beginning, "No, I've never been interested-" before catching himself. By Ysmir, did he just give himself away? Damn the mead.
Firjald kept his face and voice very neutral as he finished Argis' sentence with, "in women." His voice made it clear that it was a statement and not a question.
Argis raised his chin slightly and nodded before folding his arms across his chest. His mead fogged brain quickly decided to attempt damage control and added, "The Bulwark has never been breached," with a small smile at his own pun. If Firjald spread this knowledge, at least it wouldn't place Argis in a bad light.
Firjald stepped closer to Argis, blue eyes locking with brown. In the back of his head, Argis realized how close in height they were but kept his visage stern as he stared the other man down, daring him to make an accusation.
Firjald's face suddenly split into a grin, and he murmured, "Me neither," before pulling Argis in for a kiss. The surprised blonde's eyes widened in shock as his lips made contact with Firjald's. He quickly unclasped his arms, and deepened the kiss as he felt hands wander down to his hips. He was dizzied with how fast this was moving from his first kiss to something more serious.
His hot tongue slid against Firjald's until they broke off the kiss for air. Stroking Argis' thigh slowly, Firjald whispered, "Let's go somewhere more private." All the blood had left Argis' brain for his nether regions, leaving it mead and lust fogged, so he nodded wordlessly. Careful not to fall, he trailed Firjald to a small inn.
Inside, the inn was dimly lit and only those seated near the lamps were clearly visible. Firjald threw some coins on the bar and exchanged a quick word with the barkeep who gestured up the stairs. Argis tried to remain subtly in the background, not wanting to announce his affair to all the patrons. Firjald beckoned Argis over and led him up the stairs to the back room on the left. He opened the door for Argis who entered with a little hesitation, but Firjald quickly stepped in and closed it behind him.
(((((Graphic sex begins)))))
Argis felt Firjald's hands on his broad shoulders before they slid down his sides to his hips and pulled Argis against Firjald's engorged cock, still trapped within his pants.
Firjald released Argis long enough to pull his own shirt off, and Argis drank in the sight of the other muscular Nord's chest. Firjald looked at him expectantly, and Argis quickly pulled his own shirt off, revealing his toned and slightly scarred chest. Firjald gave Argis the widest grin he had ever seen and quickly moved in to resume their deep kiss.
Firjald broke off the kiss to move down Argis' battle hardened body, making the young blonde shudder as his nipples were sucked gently. Even as Firjald's mouth was busy, his hands were not inactive and he quickly unlaced Argis' breeches and pulled the down. Having freed his partner's nine inch erection, Firjald got to his knees and began to suck the tip of it.
Argis groaned and murmured, "So good, so good," as the blue eyed Nord continued to suck his dick. Taking more of Argis' manhood into his mouth, Firjald took the entire length down his throat and moaned, making Argis buck in pleasure. Firjald's mouth filled with the taste of precum with each twitch of the cock in his mouth. Firjald's hands quickly let down his own breeches before they turn to massaging Argis' ass.
The blonde was so lost in the pleasure of his first blow job that he barely noticed the hands until Firjald pressed the pad of his finger against Argis' entrance. The younger Nord looked down at his partner, who was looking back at him as he slowly slid the other man's cock out of his mouth.
Rising slowly and kissing him once, Firjald asked, "Are you ready?" Argis nodded shakily and was led to the bed where Firjald lay him down.
Trying to assuage the fear he saw in Argis' eyes Firjald pulled out a bottle and a small tin. He held up the tin and opened it, watching Argis' eyes follow it before snapped back to his eyes at the sound of his voice uttering, "Healing salve – for your comfort and mine." He then applied a liberal amount of it over his own nine inch erection, pumping himself slightly to ensure he was completely covered. He held up the green bottle and announced, "Stamina potion – for our pleasure tonight." He then popped the cork and drank down the small, green bottle.
He knelt before Argis' prone form with two salve slicked fingers and gently inserted one into Argis who gasped at the contact. He ran his finger along the walls of Argis' passage until he saw Argis buck and his cock oozed a little more precum. Grinning, Firjald slid a second finger into his lover and repeated the process watching the other man gasp wantonly.
Firjald stood and pressed the head of his cock against the puckered entrance, looking the other man in the eyes and asking, "Ready?" He received a nod and slowly pushed into the virgin heat of his lover. He got half way in before stopping to get his blonde companion adjust and he watched the slightly panicked look fade a bit before he pressed all the way in.
Argis looked pained and nervous, but Firjald was so lost in the sensation of being inside Argis that he didn't see. He slowly pulled partway out before sliding back in, hitting the prostate each time. He gradually picked up the pace until he had a smooth rhythm down and both men were moaning happily to the beat set by their slapping flesh.
Argis' fingers dug into the sheets on the bed until he felt a hand close around his cock, pumping it in time with the thrusts of his fellow soldier. He looked at the muscular handsome man who was burying his cock inside Argis and grinned wildly because he was living out a fantasy he thought would never come true. With each pass of Firjald's dick in and out, he hit Argis' prostate and made the younger man gasp with pleasure as stars exploded behind his eyes.
The constant stimulation in his ass and the other man's hand on his dick pushed Argis over the edge and with a sharp cry he came all over his abs. Firjald felt his lover's passage tighten around his cock and gods did he ever want to pound into that extra-tight heat. He waited though, not wanting to hurt Argis and so he stayed still while the other man's pleasure rode itself out. It ran its course quickly, and Firjald began with a few slow thrusts before resuming his pace. Argis gasped as Firjald's hand kept working his oversensitive and now very wet cock. He stopped holding his legs up and wrapped them around Firjald, wanting the man as deep inside him as possible.
Firjald bent over to kiss Argis, and he only moved his hips in small increments as he kissed and made love to the other Nord. The head of his cock rapidly passed over Argis' most sensitive spot, and Argis released a large grunt as his cock pulsed madly in Firjald's hand, releasing what little seed it had left on the bellies of both men.
Firjald broke off the kiss and resumed his previous rhythm as he grinned and saw the two loads of jizz splattered in Argis' slightly hairy chest and belly. By Ysmir, he loved virgins.
The dark haired man could feel his own climax building below his gut. Grunting as his thrusts became rapid and erratic, Firjald came deep inside Argis who gasped as the liquid heat filled him. Thrusting a few more times to milk himself clean, Firjald pulled out and let his companion's legs slip to the ground. The two sweaty men regarded each other, breathing heavily. Firjald contemplated making Argis suck him clean, but decided not to push the other man too much.
Taking a cloth and the water left in the room, Firjald tenderly cleaned up both of the men. He kissed Argis once before laying down next to him to get some sleep in the few hours remaining before dawn.