Kim Pritekel: Passion's Fool

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Kim Pritekel Passion's Fool
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Disclaimers: They’re mine so don’t steal them. J


If you’d like to tell me what a wonderful writer I am or that I royally suck, feel free

Happy April Fools!!

Passion’s Fool

by Kim Pritekel

The church was set up, and it was time to go. Sarah looked into the mirror, looking into green eyes that did not reflect the happiness of a bride-to-be. Quite the opposite. Today she was to marry a man she had never met, and all for the happiness of her father. He stood to gain a great deal from this union, except his daughter’s favor. But then, when had he ever cared about that?

Sarah was a woman. Of no consequence to him. Only Oliver was. First born, first boy.

"Bloody hell." She sighed, looking at the dress that her handmaiden had made for her. It was beautiful, and she hoped that her husband-to-be liked it. She knew his name was Fallon of Aragon, but that was all. He was from a prominent family with lots of land and wealth, all of which would be added to the Everston family’s fortune by the joining.

With a final sigh of resignation, she turned to her handmaiden, Mary, who had been with her since her birth seventeen years ago.

"Are you ready, milady?" Mary asked, her face sad for her mistress, but happy that she’d at least be able to join her in their new home at Camden Castle.

"No. But what choice have I?" Sarah placed the veil on her head, Mary straightening it, and making sure she looked her best. She was a lovely girl; long blonde hair, reaching to near her waist, and bright green eyes. Mary had always marveled at the color. Much like the sea – always changing.

She was beautiful, and the handmaiden just hoped that this Fallon person could appreciate it and treat her well. In 1540s England, this was not usually the case.

Fallon of Aragon also stood in front of the mirror. Blue eyes scanned the carefully tailored armor, made for just the ceremony. A decorative sword hung at her side, the leather armor in place. Dark hair, cut at the shoulder, made an enticing figure. She was dashing, having acted as a man since she was a small girl.

Fallon’s real brother had been killed by the Celts before she had even been born. So, she had been made to take on his identity so the family did not seem weak. And now to complete the life-long ruse, she was to marry an unsuspecting woman.

She did not mind this marriage, truth be told. She would like to have the companionship of the lady Sarah. She had heard of her beauty and wisdom.

Fallon looked down at the slight bulge in her trousers, a small smile forming in the corners of her mouth. She would be expected to take her new bride to the bridal chamber, and her father had made sure to outfit her in a way that would make this possible. She was nervous about that. Never having so much as kissed a woman, she was expected to make love to one.

"At least she is beautiful," she said quietly, placing the ceremonial band around her head. She was ready.

Sighing her last nerves out, she headed toward the door that would lead her toward the church.

Sarah took a deep breath, waiting to see what this man she’s supposed to marry looked like. But more than that, she just prayed that he would treat her well. She knew that she had little purpose other than to help join their lands, and have his children.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah saw her father waiting for her. He would lead her down the aisle, and to her destiny.

"How are you my love?" he asked quietly in her ear.

"I want to turn back, father. I’m scared," the blonde admitted, keeping a perfect smile pasted to her face as they entered the main sanctuary of the huge, ancient cathedral.

"No need to be, my darling. It’s time for you to be a woman, my love. Fallon is a fine match. His people are kind and generous." Her father tried to assure his daughter, praying that what he said was indeed true. His daughter had very few choices, but he did want her to be happy all the same.

He knew that her future husband was exceedingly handsome, and Sarah would be grateful for that. He saw the strapping young lad waiting near the priest at the altar.

Fallon waited, none too patiently, for her bride to make her way up to her. She could feel the heaviness of her dress sword at her side, and the stiffness of her new leather breeches. She tried to not readjust the foreign bump at her groin, and could hear the quiet squeaking of her knee-high boots as the leather soles met the smooth, polished marble of the cathedral’s floor.

She studied her bride as she got closer on the arm of her father. The girl was beautiful. She had her long blonde hair back in a braid that reached her lower back. Her eyes were lowered, so Fallon had no idea of their color or depth. She noted the slight rosy tint to her cheeks, and wondered how much was from nervousness. The tall brunette hoped that her young wife was as nervous as she.

Frankly, the warrior felt sick.

Though it seemed to take hours for Sarah and her father to reach the altar, finally Sarah’s smaller hand was being taken from the safety of her father’s familiar forearm, and placed on the muscular one of her husband.

Shy green eyes looked up, a small gasp escaping her lips when she saw the beautiful, intense blue looking down at her. She took in the face, the sharp cheek bones, full lips, naturally red and inviting, the strong jaw, dark hair.

Fallon gave her bride a small smile, looking down into the most amazing green eyes she had ever seen. They were the color of the sea, a beautiful and unusual blue/green in color, though mostly green. She was beautiful.

Fallon couldn’t help but notice the small stature of the girl, and her beautiful body. She knew that she’d be seeing at least a little of that body later that night. More of her conversation with her father returned to her:

"Do not be rough with her, Fallon. She is young, and will be pure. You can hurt her, so be gentle. She should dress in a proper dressing gown. You only need lay her on her back, and raise the gown just enough so that her womanhood is visible. Be sure to use your fingers, daughter. Get her ready for you. To do this, stroke her womanhood until you feel that she is properly wet. This wetness is only for lubrication purposes. Once she is properly lubricated, you climb atop her, and guide your ‘manhood’ inside her."

The tall brunette shook her head to shake these images from her mind. She had much to do before the wedding night. She so hoped that she could be friends with her wife.

The priest said his blessings from God in Latin, and the bride and groom listened and answered in the proper language and tones, each well educated and versed in such ceremonies.

They took their communion, each taking in their share of the Holy Spirit, and then said their vows of eternal devotion and faithfulness.

Sarah took her husband’s hands in hers, feeling the calluses from his fighting days. They were large, but warm and gentle with hers. She hoped that extended to other husbandly pursuits as well.

She looked up into his eyes, noting that a ring of dark blue was around the sky blue irises. He was handsome, and almost could be called beautiful.

He gave her a small smile of encouragement, which she returned.

"You may now kiss your bride," the priest instructed, and Fallon complied with a small nod. She bent her head down and lightly brushed her lips across those of her new bride.

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