The screech of metal against stone filled the dark, wooded halls of the Oak King’s palace. He stood at the\u00a0grinding wheel, foot pumping, honing his blade. After so many thousands of years, the twining knots on the center were almost nonexistent, but if he held it just right, the moonlight would catch them, revealing the sword’s former glory.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
He told himself that lie every Midwinter. He knew the\u00a0designs would come back, brilliant as ever. But not now.\u00a0Now, his power was weakened. No amount of polishing or\u00a0grinding would change that. But, just as it was his place\u00a0to greet the sun at Midsummer, so too was it his place to\u00a0fight this fight on Midwinter, no matter how unfit his\u00a0blade.<\/p>\n
A few final passes over the sword. It would get no\u00a0better. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The last\u00a0remnants of his power lived there. While everything else\u00a0had turned to gray death and slumber around him, the\u00a0ceiling of his palace remained green, full of wave-edged\u00a0leaves, fluttering in the too cold wind.<\/p>\n
“My apologies.” He held out his hand and watched the\u00a0leaves wither and fall. Their light flowed into him. Their\u00a0warmth filled him. And, for those few moments, he could\u00a0once more make out clearly the tooled patterns filling the\u00a0flat of his claymore. But it faded, as it always did. His\u00a0rejuvenation felt empty, not enough for his tastes.\u00a0But after the battle, he would see the Holly King\u00a0again. And that alone gave him the will to slip into the\u00a0useless, brittle oak armor.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
It was nearly Midwinter. Minutes away. And still, the\u00a0Oak King stood alone at the top of the mound. What would\u00a0happen if he stayed alone, if they never met? What would\u00a0become of the wheel of seasons, then?<\/p>\n
But he wouldn’t find out. Not this Midwinter. The\u00a0Holly King’s light preceded him up the hill, casting long,\u00a0spidery shadows from the lifeless trees. The Oak King\u00a0gripped his sword in both hands and waited, tried to ignore\u00a0the stirring anticipation in his midsection.<\/p>\n
Glowing, rapier held to the side, the sight of the\u00a0Holly King caught the Oak King’s breath in his chest. Pale skin like fresh snow. Long, languid limbs that seemed never\u00a0to end. The pale, peachy armor of holly wood, carved with\u00a0the same knots as the Oak King’s sword. But these knots cut\u00a0deep, visible even from across the hilltop.<\/p>\n
The Holly King stopped a few feet away. “Evening.”<\/p>\n
Streaks of bright red from the holly berries slashed uneven\u00a0across his cheeks, matching the bright color of his eyes.\u00a0Empowered. “You came, then.”<\/p>\n
“I must.” The Oak King looked up at the moon. “It’s\u00a0nearly time.”<\/p>\n
“I know.” The Holly King took another step closer, his\u00a0sword held off to the side. “Must we fight?”<\/p>\n
“It’s for the humans.” How often had the Oak King\u00a0asked himself the same question over the centuries? “They\u00a0expect to see the battle.”<\/p>\n
“No one pays attention, anymore. We’ve clung to this\u00a0meaningless ritual too long.”<\/p>\n
“It’s not meaningless.” More lies. They both knew the\u00a0Holly King was right. The battle meant nothing, it only\u00a0served to keep the respect of the people. What mattered\u00a0came after, when the crowds cleared.<\/p>\n
But there were no crowds anymore.<\/p>\n
Another glance to the moon. The Oak King backed\u00a0up. His claymore felt so heavy, tonight. Perhaps he\u00a0could just abandon this. But pride wouldn’t let him. Not\u00a0that night. “We don’t have anymore time for discussion.\u00a0Midwinter is here.”<\/p>\n
The Holly King sighed and spun his own sword\u00a0around. “Very well.” He rushed ahead and thrust. The Oak\u00a0King spun aside and sliced out with his sword but the holly\u00a0armor deflected the blow. It shouldn’t have, should have\u00a0shattered under the weight of the claymore. But not on\u00a0Midwinter.<\/p>\n
Metal clanged against metal, filling the night air.\u00a0Every movement of the Holly King shifted the light an\u00a0shadows across the hilltop. Sweat already built on the Oak\u00a0King’s forehead, ran down under his armor, slicked the grip\u00a0of his sword.<\/p>\n
He swung again, throwing his body into the movement.<\/p>\n
And the claymore slid out of his hands, skating across the\u00a0hilltop and well out of reach.<\/p>\n
The Holly King pressed the tip of his rapier against\u00a0the Oak King’s throat. “You give in.” It wasn’t a question.<\/p>\n
The Oak King nodded. “I always do.”<\/p>\n
Slowly, the rapier lowered. The Oak King stared into\u00a0the bright, vibrant eyes of the Holly King. Stunningly red.<\/p>\n
Looking at him felt warm, like taking the last power from\u00a0his oaken palace had. A ball of light and heat expanding in\u00a0his chest.<\/p>\n
The Holly King’s long, pale fingers brushed down\u00a0the Oak King’s cheek. “I’ve missed you.” Down his hand\u00a0went, untied the breastplate, the pauldrons, the faulds.\u00a0Soon, the Oak King stood in the night air, nothing but his\u00a0leggings and tabard between him and the cold.<\/p>\n
But he stripped those off, too, let Midwinter embrace\u00a0him. And the Holly King joined him. They lay together, bare\u00a0on the hard dirt and stone. The Holly King’s light washed\u00a0over him. Their lips met, locked together. Cold against the\u00a0Oak King’s mouth. Each touch felt like the lightest drop of\u00a0a snowflake against his skin, only a whisper of chill.<\/p>\n
Long fingers walked down the Oak King’s body, wrapped\u00a0into a fist around his shaft. Up and down. Soon, the cold\u00a0dissipated into hot, silken skin. Up and down, hardening\u00a0the Oak King’s shaft, lengthening it. Up and down.<\/p>\n
The Oak King scooted lower, down until the Holly\u00a0King’s curving cock sat even with his lips. He slid the\u00a0length into his mouth, down to the back of his throat,\u00a0tongue swirling and spiraling over the soft flesh. The\u00a0Holly King shivered and groaned, tangling his fingers in\u00a0the Oak King’s coarse, dark mane of hair. The shaft tasted\u00a0of icy winds, mingled with the earthiness of winter nuts\u00a0and pine. His white-blonde bush smelled of spicy leaf rot\u00a0and smoke. All signs of his grandeur, all synonymous with\u00a0winter.<\/p>\n
All perfection, to the Oak King.<\/p>\n
The Holly King pulled himself from the Oak King’s\u00a0lips. Those long, thin fingers moved under the Oak King’s\u00a0thighs, lifted him up, exposing his bare opening to the\u00a0chill night. Soon, now. Soon, Midwinter would take hold,\u00a0and the Holly King would rule.<\/p>\n
Two fingers pressed against the Oak King’s hole. He\u00a0relaxed, letting them slide in. The Holly King spit on them\u00a0as he worked in and out, loosening the muscles. “I’ll tryto be gentle.”<\/p>\n
“I know.” He said that line every year. But their\u00a0battle was not gentle. The change of seasons was not\u00a0gentle. Thus could their love never be gentle. The snow and\u00a0the sun must always clash.<\/p>\n
The Holly King slipped his fingers out and hoisted\u00a0the Oak King’s legs and ass higher still. His hard shaft\u00a0pressed against the Oak King. Harder. Harder. In. Quavering\u00a0waves warped through the Oak King’s body, all from that\u00a0point. His back arched off the ground. He always felt that\u00a0bite of pain, no matter the Holly King’s intentions.<\/p>\n
But slowly, it subsided. He fell into the fullness of\u00a0the shaft inside of him, the gentle ebb and flow as the\u00a0Holly King’s speed built. Coarse hair pressed into the\u00a0Oak King’s ass, then pulled away, taking that glorious,\u00a0powerful fullness with it. Then back again. Ever faster\u00a0until finally, skin slapped skin. Each thrust of the Holly\u00a0King’s hips rocked through the Oak King’s body, digging a\u00a0rut into the earth beneath him. This, he longed for every\u00a0year. Not the weakness. Not the fight. Not the submission.\u00a0But the closeness. The fullness. Even through Midsummer,\u00a0when the roles switched, he would think of the pressure\u00a0moving inside him. He would ache for it, grow hard at the\u00a0mere thought of the Holly King within him.<\/p>\n
The hardness grazed across a spot inside the Oak King.\u00a0He gasped as new waves of ecstasy warmed him, cooled him,\u00a0toyed with him. The tip of his cock glistened with wetness,\u00a0strands of it falling to his belly. Crystalline tethers in\u00a0the light of the Holly King.<\/p>\n
Fingers tightened, pressing into the Oak King’s\u00a0thighs. The Holly King’s words stuttered out past quavering\u00a0lips. “It’s nearly finished.”<\/p>\n
The Oak King resisted the urge to rail against it. Not\u00a0to preserve his tenuous hold on the seasons. To prolong\u00a0their coupling, even for a few minutes more.<\/p>\n
The Holly King’s body tensed. His light intensified.\u00a0A choked moan rattled out of his mouth. His nails dug deep\u00a0into the Oak King’s legs, scratched down as his grip slid\u00a0free.<\/p>\n
A piercing cold shot through the Oak King’s body. A\u00a0chill of sheer ecstasy. The Holly King’s essence filled\u00a0him. One shot. Two shots. Three. Four. Each time, the\u00a0chill pushed deeper. The domination of winter over summer,\u00a0the thriving holly over the slumbering oak. The cold\u00a0seeped from the Oak King’s body, glowing down into the\u00a0earth. Winter taking hold. The Holly King’s palace would\u00a0bloom from the power, dark green leaves and brilliant red\u00a0berries, bright snow scattered over it all. Breathtaking.<\/p>\n
But the Oak King would get only one night there before\u00a0returning to his own halls of dormant, dark gray oak.\u00a0The Holly King pulled out and wiped himself clean on\u00a0the back of his hand. He smiled as he helped the Oak King\u00a0to his feet. “Thank you.”<\/p>\n
“My pleasure.” One he would not know again until next\u00a0Midwinter. The Holly King’s seed dripped free, a tiny,\u00a0jagged-leaved sapling sprouting from the ground where it\u00a0fell. “I would like very much to visit your palace, now.”<\/p>\n
The Holly King nodded, kissing the Oak King hard on\u00a0the lips. “Of course.” He picked up his tunic and slid back\u00a0into it. “My bed is welcome to you, Lord of Midsummer.\u00a0Whenever you wish to visit.”<\/p>\n
But it wasn’t. The magic prevented that. He only had\u00a0Midwinter’s Day. But the Oak King was no fool. He would\u00a0make the most of those short hours. He would feel the power\u00a0of the Holly King again.<\/p>\n
And soon.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The screech of metal against stone filled the dark, wooded halls of the Oak King’s palace. He stood at the\u00a0grinding wheel, foot pumping, honing his blade. After so many thousands of years, the twining knots on the center were almost nonexistent, but if he held it just right, the moonlight would catch them, revealing the … Continue reading Advent Calendar: Midwinter by Raven de Hart<\/span>