Author’s Note: This story was inspired by the image Hutch on the Iron Throne, which was one of Day 17’s gifts on the 2017 Advent Calendar.
I’m indebted to Wightfaerie for coming up with the image, the suggestion for the second-story (The Iron Throne – Ambassador Stavish), and then for the betas. Many thanks to Flamingo, as well, for her editing.
My name is Haajensen, and in this summer of what my gods-worshiping advisors tell me is the last decade of the eighth century — how they know that is beyond me — I am a king. However, the territory over which I rule is small and menaced on all sides. I am alone and very tired after months of fighting off repeated incursions across our borders. With the efforts of my excellent knights and soldiers, I have been able to maintain a tenuous hold on my throne. There is a solid merchant class and loyal peasants under my protection; I have no reason to feel this hopelessness that threatens to overwhelm me.
Despair is an emotion I must conquer, especially today, since I have granted an audience with a new ambassador.
I dress without conscious thought or assistance. My squire, Axel, is as weary as I am and I won’t have him fussing over what I should wear. The meeting will undoubtedly be of no consequence and a waste of time, as all others have been. I dismissed the boy earlier so that he could take a bath, have his wounds tended properly, and eat a decent meal, possibly the first one he’s had since our return from the battlefield.
I sit to pull on my best boots, then remain seated, suddenly without the energy to stand. My gauntlets lie across the arm of my chair and I haven’t the strength to don them.
Two days ago, we lost more of our knights and foot soldiers than we can afford and, for the first time since my honored father’s death, I am hearing the wolves howling in the mountains. Their soulless cries haunt my hours of rest. I cannot call it sleep, for I fear to sleep. The expectations of those who look to me for leadership through the maelstrom of requests from our supposed allies — many of whom appear to be our friends but are, I suspect, the opposite — weigh heavily upon me.
“Did you feel these burdens, Father?” I ask the empty room. It always seemed as if he bore the weight of his crown easily. Of course, he had the counsel and companionship of Lars Knutson, Lord of the Northern Marches. Lars was my father’s closest friend and his equal in all but royal blood.
We lost them both, standing side by side and holding off the enemy, while my squadron and I ferried the survivors of the village and the battle’s wounded across the river to safety. When the King and Lord Knutson died, I feared I was not prepared to take up my father’s mantle.
I had childhood friends but no close comrade, no one with whom I could share my hopes, my dreams, even my fears. I was a prince and expected to bear up under the pressures of, one day, inheriting the crown. The past year has been lonely with no boon companion to share my concerns, or even my happiness, when I could find any. I longed for someone like Lars. I don’t believe Father ever understood how important his friend was; how dependent they were upon each other.
“Perhaps I give you less credit than you deserve, though, Father,” I murmur. “It’s possible you did.”
I hear people scurrying in the hallway but the door remains closed. I’m sure, knowing I needed these few minutes by myself, Axel is keeping everyone away.
“I have done my best, Father,” I tell the listening shadows, “but the year has been dreadful. I am beset on all sides by avaricious petty kings who seem to have broken off their disagreements with each other, in order to focus on our small beleaguered territory. They sent representatives to your funeral, as was fitting, but I only saw political cutthroats conspiring with each other when they thought my back was turned. My knights and I have been staving off one raid after another. I believe our enemies plot with each other in secret and every foray has been a feint to test my resources and resolve.”
I reach over my shoulder and lift the belt of the sheathed sword from the back of my chair before laying the weapon carefully across my knees. “Except this last invasion.” With reverence, I raise the hilt and kiss the brilliant blue gem in the pommel. “I maneuvered the coward who had attacked our farthest village in order to lure you and Lars to your deaths, into a confrontation. I took the Sky Sword he had stolen from your corpse out of his filthy hands and slew him with it.”
The Sky Sword. Grandfather had had it forged from the remains of a fallen star. “I couldn’t rest, Father, until I had recovered it.”
Slowly, I rise and belt the weapon around my waist. I will unsheathe it for the meeting, as it has a presence all its own and has been known to cause prevaricators to speak the truth, sometimes without their intent.
“Why, though? Why must I meet with yet another envoy, ambassador, whatever he calls himself? Have I not shown admirable patience this past twelve-month, Father? Have I not demonstrated commendable restraint in allowing all these false emissaries — well, most of them — to live? They lie with silver tongues and expect me to give up everything we have struggled to gain, so their lords and masters can lay claim to this land.”
I begin to pace the confines of the room. “Oh, each of them says those they represent want only the best for our country and all who live here. They pledge that they will assist us against our foes and give aid to our old, our sick, and wounded. They offer succor in our time of need.”
My energy fails and I sit again. “And the only thing they would require in return is my fealty, and the sworn allegiance of my subjects, to those they represent.”
I lower my head into my hands, unhappy with myself for my weakness, even as I’m unable to fight it off. I am hounded on all sides and am afraid to close my eyes. I don’t believe I have ever felt quite so alone.
Realizing I am delaying the inevitable, I rise again and leave my chamber. A servant disappears into a doorway, leaving the hall empty before me.
As I approach my private entrance to the throne room, the guards come to attention. They appear as worn and spiritless as I am and I straighten my shoulders. I don’t wish them to think I have lost hope. Responding to my more rigid posture, they stand straighter as well. I meet each of their looks and do my best to smile. It is probably wan but they seem to draw strength from it.
One of them opens the door for me and I pass through. They do not follow; their duty is to guard that passageway behind my back.
The Iron Throne is truly an intimidating object. For generations it has stood here, its grizzly assemblage of captured swords a testament to the lives it has cost to secure our small kingdom. Now rival despots are gathering and I am afraid I won’t be able to hold what my ancestors have entrusted into my keeping.
“Great Thor,” I breathe, thankful that no one is close enough to hear, “send me a champion, for, in truth, my people and I are in dire need.”
I pull on my gloves and unsheathe the Sky Sword, discovering that simply holding the hilt gives my arm renewed vigor. Hearing in my head, the fable of the weapon’s birth, I silently offer the gratitude my ancestor deserves. “Thank you, Grandfather.”
I sit on the thinly padded seat and, touching the sword’s tip to the wood square laid flush with the slate-clad floor, I nod to my chamberlain. He opens the double doors, pushing them wide and into the hands of waiting guards as he turns to face me.
“The peace ambassador, diplomat, and warrior, Stavish,” he intones, before taking a step to his right and clearing the way for this new emissary to enter. Echoes of the unusual name bounce off the unadorned walls.
Stavish. Is that Polish? I wonder. I have no idea and I wrench my inquiring stare from the chamberlain to this man who, when he requested an audience, stated that he wished to be of service.
As soon as my eyes meet his, I know Thor has answered my prayer.
The newcomer is tall, within an inch or two of my own height. He wears no head covering and his dark hair curls lavishly around his well-shaped head and cascades nearly to his broad shoulders. His tunic clearly isn’t new but is made of excellent material and will probably serve him for numerous years yet. The color is a deep indigo that matches his eyes.
And those amazing eyes are fastened upon my own. Within the space of a single breath, my heart is light and almost free of tension and fear. I know that, somehow, this man will be our salvation. More, he will be my Lars.
I keep my tone as calm and normal as possible. “Approach.”
I don’t blink as he crosses to me and he doesn’t either. I have never seen eyes that intense shade of blue and, instinctively, know I will never tire of looking in them.
“Majesty.” His voice is like honey over my raw nerves.
Even as be begins to kneel, I catch his right arm with my left hand. “Never.” I suppose the word could have been misinterpreted but I know he heard my complete thought: Do not ever kneel to me. You are my friend, not my vassal.
Although I don’t break eye contact with Stavish, I’m aware that those who have crowded into the room are surprised. I cannot remember my father voluntarily giving up his right to have a subject kneel, but I will not begin my relationship with this man that way. Let them make of it what they will.
I stand and although I don’t raise my voice, and speak only to him, the silence in the hall lets me know that every word is heard. “I should have felt your coming, but I did not.” I sense it as he absorbs my unspoken thoughts. “Nevertheless, and I say this with all my heart, you are welcome, Ambassador Stavish.”
He and I get through the remainder of my official greeting and I’m sure I say the correct and proper words because everyone in the hall, and those within hearing outside, begin to cheer.
With my arm around his shoulders, we walk through the crowd and out onto the landing at the top of the stairs. We converse quietly, unheard by anyone but ourselves, in a way that makes me feel as if we have known each other forever. And, although I am not a religious man, something tells me that, even though he and I are meeting for the first time, our souls and hearts have found each other in countless previous lives. However, that is for debate among priests and philosophers. All I know is that I am no longer alone.
What a wonderfully original work. Really enjoyed both the story and the artwork.
Thank you so much, Annie Booker; I’m glad you enjoyed it. The image captured me the moment I saw it last year and and I just knew I had to write a backstory for it. I greatly appreciate your reading, and then taking the time to leave your kind comment.
Oh! I LOVE this!!
How appropriate!
Can’t wait to read the second part!
KUDOS!!
Thanks, Nancy; I’m really glad you liked it. I LOVED writing it because Wightfaerie’s image really spoke to me! I’m grateful for your lovely comment.
Thanks so much for a super story!
You’re welcome, katc! Thanks so much for letting me know you liked it!
Thanks so much for a super story!
If you’re the same ‘kat’ as ‘katc,’ I’m doubly grateful because you thought enough of the story to leave your comment twice. If you are a different ‘kat,’ THANK YOU so very much for reading, and then for leaving your super comment!
Love this, sweetie. Amazing story. Fits image perfectly. Thank you for writing it.
You know you’re more than welcome, WF; your haunting image generated it and I’m grateful. So glad you enjoyed this little tribute. Thanks for reading and then, even more, for your lovely comment.
You’re welcome, sweetie, and thank you. You more than did my image justice. Both stories are so amazing. Love them, and your tribute x
I see this as a story of redemption. The new king is nearing the end of his rope and is saved by the ambassador. Their friendship was meant to be and the gods chose this time to reveal it. Excellent tale!
I very much like your vision of what the story’s about, Choc! Yes, the gods must have chosen this time and it was *definitely* meant to be. I’ll cherish your ‘Excellent tale!” Thanks for reading, and for leaving your lovely comment!
This is beautiful, and such a perfect companion to this outstanding artwork! Thanks for sharing.
You’re very welcome, Jenny. The artwork inspired the story and I’m glad you enjoyed both. I greatly appreciate your taking the time to let me know you liked them.
Awesome work.Loved this.You have woven an exceptional story around the image.The story is apt and befitting to the image.Thank you so much for your efforts.
You’re very welcome for my ‘efforts,’ Beena. After I’d seen wightfaerie’s image, last calendar, I couldn’t NOT write this. Thanks so much for reading and then for leaving your lovely comment!
Oh, I love this story. I am a big fan of Hutch/Starsky AU and this is brilliant. Having it in the King’s POV adds to the angst and then hope of the story.
Thank you, mvernet! I’m not usually an AU fan myself but that image just demanded a ‘backstory.’ Actually, I wrote the other part first and wightfaerie suggested the king’s POV was needed as well. Once both were written, Flamingo thought this one should be read first and she was right! I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I’ll treasure your ‘brilliant.’
So glad the king found his other half.
Indeed! Thanks for reading and then commenting, Dawn; both are greatly appreciated.
It’s so satisfying to see someone who is so weary finally find a companion to share the burden. I really enjoyed this! I liked that Hutch had a model of friendship with his father and Lars. I liked the sword made from a fallen star. And I liked that Hutch didn’t let Starsky kneel to him because he instantly saw an equal!
I can’t thank you enough, Garrideb! Not only for reading, but then for taking the time to enumerate the specific things you enjoyed about the story. As a writer, I find such details help me a LOT. So I THANK YOU!
This is such an original story. I can feel the moods (despair, determination, hope) so strongly through your story telling. I am looking forward to reading the second part!
What lovely things to say, Elaine: such an original story; feeling the moods. I’m grateful for your reading and then, even more, for your kind words. I sincerely hope the second part lives up to your expectations.
I do hope this story will continue! I can’t wait to see this relationship grow!
Stavish’s POV is ‘next door,’ Lisa, and thanks to the encouragement of you and other commenters, I’ll be working on the next installment. I appreciate your taking the time to read and then write. THX!!!!!
Image and story match perfectly. Thanks pat! Hugs
You’re very welcome, Hutcherie; I’m so glad you liked the words I put to the music of that image. Thanks for your lovely comment.
Love these stories, with their echoes of Game of Thrones. Love the image of Hutch turning Starsky to face the audience and saying that Starsky is his brother. I’ll be looking forward to possible future chapters, if you are going to do a series.
I’m glad you enjoyed this ‘first installment,’ Jen! Guess I’ll have to read Game of Thrones now, won’t I? (Any echoes were unintentional, since I’ve never read the book. Books? More than one? Shows you what I know.) I very much enjoyed writing the scene you mention; it seemed to be important. I hope you like the second ‘chapter.’ THANKS for reading and then for your kind comment.
That was awesome, Pat! So original and beautifully written. I could picture all the scenes and the emotions playing in Hutch’s mind.
It’s soooooo good to hear from you, Sammy; I’ve missed you! And you’ve come back with such lovely things to say about my little story I’ve got a great big smile all over my face this morning. Thank you so very much for reading and then for taking the time to leave your kind comment. ‘Seeing’ the scenes and ‘feeling’ the emotions was what I was hoping for. So glad they worked for you. THANKS!!!
Pat, once again your talent to create an AU and keep our guys true to themselves both entertains and amazes me.
What lovely things to say, MatSir; thank you so much. I’m so glad you think I kept the guys ‘true to themselves,’ that means a great deal to me! And I’m more than happy to entertain and amaze whenever possible Thanks for reading, and then writing; both are appreciated!
Pat, you never cease to surprise me! I’m so glad you took up the task of writing a story to the image. The forlorn king who gets hope from the man who joins his quest is just perfect. I loved that he instantly connected with the newcomer. Great story. Really got a chuckle from “Is that Polish?” Kudos!
I hope ‘surprise’ is good, Laura; thanks so much for reading my little backstory and then taking the time during this busy season to leave your lovely comment. After I saw the image last year, the stories came to me. Actually, Stavish’s side, the person who’s looking at this forlorn (perfect word!) king, came first and wightfaerie said Haaj’s POV was needed, too. I loved writing them both and I really appreciate your kind words; I’ll treasure them!
Lonely and forlorn
until hearts meet and eyes click –
no longer alone
Surprise is always good when I read your works. You always come up with a fresh take while staying true to the characters.
I love your haiku, as well.
“You always come up with a fresh take while staying true to the characters.”
I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said about my stories, Laura, THANK YOU. It is my main goal in everything I write: being true to the loyalty, support, and love the guys showed us for four years, and are still showing us today!
THX, again!!!!!!!!!!
Wow is an understatement to describe how much your story The Iron Throne has impressed me, Pat.
I have read Norse mythology since I was a child. I know a great deal about the ancient customs. That’s why it was a thrill to me when I did a DNA test and learned I am part-Norwegian. On that site I met a cousin I did not know I had. She has researched my father’s lineage so extensively she proved that we are related to two of the earliest kings of Norway. When I learned this it explained my lifelong fascination with royalty of any country or era.
How you captured the burden of being a king besieged by enemies from without and traitors conspiring within Haajensen’s realm tracks with every historical account I have read about kings of lands throughout the world since ancient times. You astutely paralleled the plight the Vikings faced when they were being conquered by Christian invaders very well.
The Vikings practiced ancestor worship in ancient times like the Chinese still do. You captured this when you mentioned the significance of the Sky Sword and Haajensen’s reverence for his ancestors gave him.
You created a fictional sword to rival Excalibur. I wish there WAS such a object that could make people honest like Wonder Woman’s lasso or truth and your Sky Sword does!
You made the reader feel the admiration and the grief Haajensen has for his dead father. I like how you avenged his death and used his friendship with Lars to make Haajensen want the same kind of companion. You created a noble king who is worthy of finding his Hephaestion or his Patroclus. Stavish sure qualifies!
Your description of his first meeting with Stavish was riveting. Oh, how I wish Paul and David could act your story out! You made us see it and feel it with every word. I dub thee Our Christmas Sorceress for evoking such a wonderful holiday fantasy.
I liked how you emphasized Stavish’s independence when you wrote: I am attached to no specific land and no leader has ever been able to convince me to stay, once I feel my mission has been accomplished.
The origin of the Sky Sword being spawned by a fallen star gave me goosebumps. The symbolism truly resonates. You make me curious to know what the details of the act of treachery was which allowed the enemy to steal that sword….
How Stavish senses and responds with such intrigued compassion to King Hajensen’s fatigue is so Starsky. Those intense eyes missed nothing. Starsky always noticed things in a glance, especially Hutch’s moods. You captured Starsky’s concern & protectiveness beautifully, Pat. Way to make your readers melt…
How you described Hutch’s eyes and the effect his mercurial mood changes have on Starsky (and fans) was as mesmerizing as when you described the effect Starsky’s expressive eyes have on Hutch (and us) as well.
I love how you described the electrifying effect of Haajensen’s touch on Stavish. When that that happens in RL it is a startling and unforgettable sensation. You added depth to the tactile by explaining their emotions so eloquently. How you described the psychological and emotional impact of that scene was perfection when you wrote: Has this king not previously waved the normally required gesture? Perhaps not, and I immediately vow never to dishonor the gift he has given me.
I unraveled inside when you wrote: His earnest stare warms a part of me I hadn’t realized had been cold.
Shameless Begging For You To Continue This Remarkable AU Will Now Ensue…
PLEASE TELL US THAT THIS STORY IS A PRELUDE TO MORE ADVENTURES!!!!
The only way to clamor online is to use ALL CAPS.
I like how you used the blade of the sword to create their unity and foreshadow how it will be defended against all enemies.
Girl, you made me swoon with this part: And, for the first time, his beautiful face lights up. My heart, which was already in his keeping, shatters into a million pieces, over which the honey of his radiant smile flows. Although it normally beats quietly, it now drums in time with the pulse I feel through his glove. Every ache, injury, and wound I’ve ever taken is instantly healed. I am whole.
You ended the story perfectly if you intend for it to be a one-off, Pat. But you also left the door of your imagination and your readers wide open to the possibility of sequels featuring more AU adventures.
“Vennligst skriv mer!” (That means: ‘please write more!’ in Norwegian. Remember, I am the ancestor of two Viking kings. I may not own a magic sword, but I have your private e-mail addy.
I give you fair warning: I WILL clamor for more Haajensen-Stavish adventures!
Hugs & Happy Holidays,
Ursula
WOW, Ursula, I’m speechless! (Well, nearly speechless, I guess, since I seem to be speeching, don’t I?) I am blown away and thrilled by your detailed comment. I labored over both of these POVs for almost a year and it makes my heart glad that you mention every section I worked and re-worked so that each word felt right and I felt I had captured what I wanted the characters to be thinking and feeling. And readers also, of course. The several sentences and sections you quote are some of my favorites, too!
Wightfaerie planted the seed for a sequel as soon as she read the first draft and other commenters have noted a desire for same, so beseeching will not be necessary – ‘The Future Adventures of Stavish & Haaj’ is in the works. I’m really flattered that you’d consider clamoring; what a sweet thing to say.
THANK YOU for reading, Ursula, and then, even more, for taking the time to explain the research you’ve done and your lineage; that’s pretty darn amazing! Congratulations on being descended from kings!!!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you and yours!