A flash of lightning tore the sky apart, momentarily lighting up the castle’s ramparts. The storm was still far away over the sea, but the approaching clouds would release showers of fine spray, wetting the stones. The young king continued his walk around the ramparts, checking that all guards were in place. He cursed the blast of wet wind that hit his face. Why had his father’s grandfather built his castle in this godawful place. He knew the answer. Situated on this promontory with sheer cliffs on three sides plunging into the breaking waves, no ship could draw near without being dashed onto the large boulders jutting up from the roiling ocean. Only a third of the castle could be approached by land, and was therefore easily defensible. Another lightning flash caused the king to flinch. He cursed again. His thoughts returned to the problem he faced. Custom dictated he choose a wife from the pool of approved candidates, none of whom appealed to him. The time he could wait had passed and a decision must be made. He decided to give up his tour and return to his bedchamber. As he reached the next portal he noticed the guard standing duty. He was only a couple years younger than the king. He was dressed in a glistening metal breastplate and a short leather skirt, leaving much of his young hard body exposed to the cold wind and rain. He wasn’t wearing the required helmet, and the king wondered why. He could see his handsome face in the light of the flickering torch mounted on the wall to his right. Cold he must be, but he stood stoically and smartly saluted the king as he drew near. The king paused and said, “Ease soldier. A brutal night, no?” The soldier remained looking straight ahead. “Yes, Sire. Brutal.” “Aye, and it will get worse before the morn,” the king said, looking out through the blackness toward the invisible horizon. The king pushed past the young soldier and went down the dark damp passageway, down the curved stairs and along another corridor to his chamber. There was another soldier standing guard outside the door. This Avrupa yakası escort bayan one was a brute of a mature man with a nasty scar running down one cheek. The king stopped with his hand on the door handle and turned back, saying, “Soldier, follow me.” He retraced his steps down the corridor, up the stairs and the other corridor to the entrance. He said to the elder soldier, “I’m changing your position. Stand guard here.” To the young soldier he said, “Follow me.” The young soldier replied, “Yes, Sire, at your service.” The older guard frowned and grumbled under his breath, but no one heard him over the howling wind. The king led the way back to his bedchamber. Upon arriving he told the young soldier, “You’re to stand guard here tonight, to protect your king.” The soldier stood at attention, saluted and said, “Yes, my Liege, at your service.” He revered his king. It never occurred to him that his king was only a couple years older than he was. He was like one of the gods. The king went into his chamber, closing the heavy wooden door. Even here in the deep interior of the castle it was cold and damp, but there was no wind. There was a fire burning on the grate of the grand fireplace, and the walls were hung with heavy drapes and tapestries depicting victorious battles fought by his ancestors, so some of the chill was abated, but the damp smell persisted. The king unhooked his cape and threw it onto the chair. The old man that had served the previous king and now was the young king’s personal servant had long ago retired to his cubicle behind one of the heavy drapes and was fast asleep. The king struggled to undo the metal breastplate that covered his firm muscled chest, but the clasps were awkward to reach. He cursed quietly, and then gave up. He went to the door and pulled it open. The guard was standing erect, holding his spear in his left hand. “Guard,” the king commanded, “come in here. I need your assistance.” The guard turned and followed the king into the room. The Escort Ataköy king said, “Shut the door behind you. And bolt it.” The guard did as told. The king wondered again why he wasn’t wearing a helmet, but his immediate concern was getting out of his restrictive clothing and into his bed. “Undo these accursed buckles so I can get out of this gear,” he said. “Yes, Sire,” the soldier answered. He leaned his spear against the long oaken table with its one chair where the king breakfasted. The spear slid to one side and clattered to the stone floor. He quickly bent and retrieved it, too flustered to know what to say. “Lay it on the table and leave it,” the king sighed. The young guard undid the buckles and watched as the king disrobed. He stood naked before the fire, and the soldier didn’t know where to look, but he noticed the fine physique of the king, with the golden hair covering his chest and stomach glittering in the firelight. “Hand me my nightgown,” the king requested. The soldier picked it up from the bed and helped the king drop it over his head, covering his nakedness. The soldier waited to be dismissed so he could return to his post outside the door. The king walked over to the bed, as though he had forgotten the soldier was there, but then turned and said, “You can guard me from here in the room. I feel alone and vulnerable tonight. You do not have to stand. You can sit in that chair, but remain alert.” The king climbed up onto his large bed with the heavy brocaded curtains hanging at each corner post. The guard turned, picked up the discarded cloak and folded it and placed it on the table. He took his spear and sat down in the chair with his back to the fire, his spear across his lap. The king did not extinguish the candles burning by his bed. He lay there for a few minutes, not closing his eyes. He alternated between looking up at the canopy over his bed, watching the flickering shadows cast by the candles, and looking at the young buck sitting in his royal chair. He looked at the Şirinevler escort strong legs extending from under the short leather skirt, and the muscular arms that the silver colored breastplate exposed. He wondered about the hidden chest. Out of the dim silence the king spoke. “I am tired and achy tonight. I do not think I am able to sleep in this condition. I need my back and neck massaged. Come here and tend to it.” The surprised guard stood, laid his spear carefully on the table and went to the bed. The king sat up in the middle of the bed and pulled his nightgown off over his head. The guard stood immobilized at the side of the bed. There was no way he could reach the king from there. The king looked at him. “Soldier, you’ll have to get on the bed to get behind me. The bed isn’t sacred. Get on it!” The soldier bowed his head and said, “Yes Sire, at your service.” He started to climb onto the bed, but remembered his sandals that were laced up his legs. He sat on the bed and undid them, kicking them free from his feet. He got behind the king and began to massage his back, not sure he knew what he was doing. The king sighed and said, “That feels good. Do my neck.” The solder moved his strong hands up to the king’s neck and the king leaned back into him, but then jumped forward. “Your armor is cold and scratches. Take it off.” “Sir?” asked the soldier. “Take it off,” repeated the king. “But Sir,” protested the soldier. “Divest yourself of it, soldier!” demanded the king. The soldier got off the bed and slowly removed his covering, revealing his naked body. The young king looked at him. He was thinner than the king, but with hard muscles. His body was smooth and hairless except for a dark patch that surrounded his manhood, which hung down thick and limp. “That’s better,” said the king. “Now continue.” The soldier climbed back onto the center of the large bed and resumed his ministrations to his king. After several minutes of massaging his neck and back the king grasped the young man’s hands and pulled them around so they were on his square chest. “Massage my chest muscles. Let me feel your strong hands there.” The soldier did as commanded, occasionally letting his hands slide down, caressing the king’s stomach, and back up to his chest, feeling the soft ringlets of hair and noting how the king’s nipples had grown hard under his fingers.