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Emotions Rage

It had been a little over two weeks since Fallon had first arrived with Salomon at Castle Dor. Due to the pleading of Bragnae, Lord Marke had offered her a job as a serving maid. Having nowhere else to go, Fallon accepted. Since the first two days of her arrival and stay at the castle, she had avoided Salomon like the plague. Now that she was one of the maids, she did not dine with Lord Marke and the other nobles, so she did not have to worry about running into him at her meals. And throughout the day, if she saw him near, she would run down the nearest corridor, not caring where it went just wanting to stay away from him. The words he had said when she asked him how they were going to prevent something happening between them again played over and over again in her mind.

"I don't know if we can."

She didn't know if they could either. That was why she avoided him. But every time she saw him, just before she found some place to hide, a fleeting part of her wanted to run to him and throw herself into his arms. She wanted to tell him how foolish she had been for making him stop that first night. She wanted to beg him to take her to his rooms and make love to her again and again. But then cold reason would wash over her, and she would know that she couldn't do that. That they could never be.

Fallon forced herself to rise from her bed. She looked longingly at the trunk that rested in the corner of the small bed chamber. Her mother's dresses were in there. She wished she could put one of them on. They made her feel so beautiful, so elegant. But maids didn't wear that sort of thing. Instead, she reached for her drab brown servant's frock. Two weeks ago, before she had ever left her small country home, the dress would have seemed normal, maybe even better, but after having spent a few days in the beautiful silk gowns of her mother, they seemed like rags.

She looked at herself in the mirror as she laced up the bodice, unlike her mother's gowns this one laced in the front. She did have to admit that it flattered her plump breasts. Salomon had certainly stared the other day. She blushed and mentally berated herself. Why was it that every time she got dressed in the morning, she thought about what he would think?

With only a single knock as warning, Bragnae rushed into the room in a whirlwind. Fallon turned from the mirror, and regarded a panting Bragnae with a raised eyebrow.

"Fallon," she huffed without even giving Fallon the chance to speak, "You must come quickly. You are needed."

"Good morning to you too, Bragnae," Fallon mumbled as she pulled her long black hair over her shoulder and began to tie it back into a braid. "Tell me what I am needed for while I attempt to finish this."

Bragnae sighed exasperatedly. "Hurry, hurry!" she commanded, "We need to go make ready the Lady Gwen's bed chamber."

Fallon turned to Bragnae with a scowl. Her relatively good mood had disappeared upon hearing that name. "I thought she wasn't arriving for another two days at least," she mumbled sullenly.

"That's what we all thought," Bragnae replied, unaware of Fallon's swift change of mood, "But Lord Marke has just informed me that she and her father and their escorts have been spotted and should be arriving before noon. We don't have much time to prepare. Hurry!"

Fallon quickly tied off her long braid and followed Bragnae out of the room. She walked close on Bragnae's heels, her anger growing hotter as they neared Lady Gwen's room. She was angry with Gwen ferch Cynyr for arriving, angry with Salomon for marrying her, and angry with herself for being angry.

They spent the whole morning readying the lady's chamber. Fallon wished she had a snake or some bugs on hand to put in Gwen's bed. She would take much satisfaction to her Lady Gwen scream in terror and revulsion.

She knew that she shouldn't be jealous. She shouldn't care. She had known from the beginning that Salomon could never love her, much less marry her. She had known he was to marry Gwen. She knew it was for the best.

Then why was it that when she heard the trumpets sound, announcing the arrival of the Lady Gwen and her father, that tears of hurt filled her emerald eyes.

Bragnae came to stand beside her at the window that looked out at the front of the castle grounds. Fallon watched as a young woman with long curled golden-red hair dismounted her sleek white horse. She could tell even from that view that the woman was beautiful. Beauty and wealth? Certainly nothing she could hope to compete with. A small tear trickled down her cheek.

Bragnae looked at her as she tucked strands of gray hair back into her bun. She followed Fallon's gaze down to Gwen ferch Cynyr. "Fallon," she said softly, "You knew this would happen."

Fallon laughed mirthlessly. "That's what I've been telling myself all morning."

"You mustn't do this," Bragnae persisted, "I won't have you ending up like your mother."

"You need not advise me, Bragnae," Fallon said bitterly, "Nothing will come of this. Lord Salomon will marry Lady Gwen. I will play no part in it."

Bragnae regarded her for a long time. "You know it is not that simple," she said finally.

"Why would it not be simple?" she asked, becoming angry, "He doesn't want me! He wants her! Well he'll have her! What's not simple about that?"

Bragnae drew her into her arms as she was succumbed to childish sobbing. To her embarrassment, she blubbered like a babe in the older woman's arms for far too long. Why did she ever leave her home? None of this would have happened if she had just been content to stay put. Why couldn't she have been happy where she was?

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Salomon sat to the left of Marke and across from his betrothed, Gwen, that evening at supper. He was a lucky man. At least he wasn't to be joined with an ugly or repulsive woman. No, Gwen was very desirable. She had long flowing golden-red hair, sparkling blue eyes, an attractive figure. What more could a man ask for?

But she's not Fallon, reminded a small voice in his mind.

He shook his head slightly, vainly trying to silence the voice.

That doesn't matter, he insisted, She doesn't matter to me.

But he knew as soon as he thought it that that was most definitely a lie. Fallon mattered a great deal to him. For a reason inexplicable to him, he felt as if he belonged with Fallon, that they had always belonged together. Every time he looked at her, every time he thought about her voice, every time he thought about her smile, his heart felt as though it would burst. He thought, despite having only known her for a short time, that he was falling in love with her.

That notion was reinforced by the fact that although Gwen was a pretty and desirable enough woman every time he looked at her he felt like he wanted to throw up. Every time he looked at her and saw her light hair and blue eyes he wanted to run from the room. He wanted to run from the room and find the enchanting maid with dark hair and green eyes who had stolen his heart.

He remembered that it would seem impolite if he didn't at least speak to Gwen. "Are you very tired from your journey, Lady Gwen?" he asked out of politeness. His thoughts were elsewhere.

"No, not very, milord," she replied in a soft timid voice. She was nothing like Fallon. Fallon was strong and brave. She had been defiant and outspoken to him even after she found that he was a noble. Gwen, a noble herself, was weak and soft spoken. He didn't know how he would be able to live with her.

"That is well," Marke cut in when an awkward silence descended on the table, "Your wedding will take place in two nights. I trust you are ready."

Gwen's father, Lord Cynyr Ceinfarfog answered for her. "Yes, Marke," he said in his gruff voice, "She is ready. If she's anything like her mother, she'll bear strong children. Your cousin is lucky to have her."

"Most certainly," Marke responded.

Then the door opened and Fallon walked in carrying another basket of rolls. Salomon willed desperately for her to look at him. He wanted to speak to her, to look into her eyes. But, like she had been of late, she avoided meeting his gaze.

"Wench!" Lord Ceinfarfog called just as she was about to exit the room, "More wine."

"Yes, milord," Fallon said as she retrieved the wine pitcher. She obediently walked over to him and filled his cup full. As she was turning to walk away, he reached out with one of his meaty hands and pinched her bottom. For an instant, Salomon saw anger and indignation flare in her eyes, but she quelled her emotions and walked away without a word.

Salomon started up from the table, fixing Lord Ceinfarfog with furious glare. His mouth was open ready to pour forth a tirade of wrath, but he felt Marke's hand on his knee under the table, trying to restrain him. Salomon looked to his cousin's eyes and red what the older man was thinking: Don't let your heart get ahead of your sense.

Salomon gritted his teeth against the rage and tried to calm himself, but the image of the grubby old man's hand on Fallon kept forcing its way into his mind. He kept his silence through the meal, sullenly staring down at his food. He knew that if he looked at his soon-to-be father-in-law too much, he might explode.

Later that night, Salomon bid goodnight to Marke, Lord Ceinfarfog, and his betrothed and went desperately searching for Fallon. He had to at least see her. He wanted to tell her of the revelation that he had had, that he loved her, but he didn't know if he should. What good could come of it? Maybe she didn't even return the sentiment. And even if she did, he still had to marry Gwen….. But still, he wanted her to know.

He raced up and down the long corridors. Every time he saw a woman in the castle's maids livery, his breath caught in his throat and his heart leapt, but then she would turn and it wouldn't be Fallon, and he would begin his search again.

It was getting late, and he almost considered giving up, but as he rounded the nest corner, he saw another maid. His heart didn't race for he knew this could not be Fallon. This woman's hair was iron gray and pulled back into a bun. It was Bragnae.

"Bragnae!" he called as she began to walk away.

She turned back to him with a look of surprise. "Yes, milord?"

"Bragnae," he replied out of breath from all the running he had been doing, "I'm looking for Fallon. Do you know where she is?"

Bragnae bit her lip, and her wrinkles deepened as she creased her forehead in indecision. "I don't know if I should do that, milord. I…"

"What do you mean you shouldn't do that?!" Salomon shouted angrily, "I am to be King of Cornwall when my cousin passes. You owe me respect! Now, where is she?"

Bragnae regarded him warily. "Milord, forgive me, but may I speak freely?"

Salomon gritted his teeth in anger, but he reminded himself that Bragnae was not the cause of his frustration. He let out his breath slowly, trying to calm himself. "Yes, Bragnae. What would you like to say?"

She took a deep breath. "I care deeply for Fallon. She reminds me of…." A nostalgic look came into her old eyes, but she shook her head and returned to the present. "Someone. I love her like a daughter. The last thing I want is for her to get hurt. Do you take my meaning, Sir?"

Salomon stared at her sadly for a moment. "Yes, but…." He trailed off. He didn't want to stand there and pour his heart out to one of the maids. "I don't want to hurt her," he finished.

"I know you don't," she replied, "But just because you don't want her to hurt doesn't mean she won't."

"Will you please just tell me where she is?" he pleaded, "I need to see her."

Bragnae sighed. "Nothing good will come of this," she muttered under her breath. Then louder, "She is finished with her duties for the night. She just went out to the garden. She said she would be there for a while, so you shouldn't miss her."

"Thank you!" Salomon called over his shoulder as he turned and ran towards the garden.

When he got outside, he had to pause and take a deep breath of fresh air. It was such a lovely night. A wonderful night to be out strolling the gardens with Fallon. He looked up and saw that there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The stars twinkled down on him. He took another deep breath, and prayed that Fallon wouldn't try to get away from him tonight.

He found her sitting on a bench staring up at the beautiful sky. She had undone her braid, and her raven locks fell in waves over her milk-white shoulders and down her back. He longed to walk behind her and run his hands through that beautiful hair, but he restrained himself. Instead he went and sat down beside her.

She gave a startled jump and then moved as if to leave. But Salomon caught her hand and said in a soft voice, "Please stay, Fallon."

To his pleasure, she relaxed back down onto the bench. When she tried to pull her hand away, he held onto it and brought it up to his lips. He gently kissed it. Fallon blinked at him in bewilderment.

"You… you know we cannot do this," she said sadly.

"And why can't we?" he asked, even though he knew the answer all too well. He placed another kiss on her hand. This one was more passionate, more needy.

"You are to be married," she whispered.

He looked into her emerald eyes. They were wide and shining with unshed tears. "But I'm not married yet," he protested as he held her gaze.

"But you will be!" she argued hotly, wrenching her hand from his grasp and standing up, "And then what? Then I'll just be some woman you come to when you tire of your wife! I will not be your mistress, Salomon!"

Salomon stood up, still looking at her. "But don't realize," he entreated, "That you already mean more to me than any mistress ever could? Don't you realize you mean more to me than… her?" He couldn't even bring himself to say his betrothed's name.

A big tear rolled down Fallon's cheek. "Don't play games with me, Salomon," she said softly, "You proved very well what you wanted from me on the first night I was here."

Salomon couldn't suppress his groan. He wished that he had never let himself get so out of control that night. He didn't want her to think that he only wanted her for a bedmate. "Fallon," he said, taking a step closer to her, "I already apologized for that…. I was thinking. Of course I want you in that way, Fallon. But please believe when I say I want much much more from you."

She was crying openly now. "More that I can't give, Salomon!" she sobbed, "You're a promised man!"

Salomon enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly to his chest, wondering how he managed to keep from crying himself. He ran his hands over her silky tresses and down her back as he murmured soothing words to persuade her to stop crying. When at last, her sobs had dwindled down to soft whimpers and sighs, he whispered, "I love you, Fallon."

She liked up at him then. Her lip quivered and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her senseless, but he waited for her reply. "Oh, I love you," she moaned, "God forgive me, I love you." Then he kissed her.

In that moment when his lips were pressed to hers, he was in heaven. It wasn't like the first kiss they had shared, not a wholly sexual, lusty kiss. This was a kiss of passionate love. Neither of them was holding anything back. Neither of them was putting up any resistance. Salomon held her against him with one arm, and he held her head tilted up to his with one of his big hands. He murmured her name against her mouth as he traced her high elegant cheekbone with his thumb. He loved the feel of her soft lips against his. He loved the taste of her mouth.

They parted some time later. Fallon rested her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist as she recovered her breath. "What are we going to do?" she asked him softly.

Salomon stroked her hair silently for a moment before replying, "I wish I knew."

She nodded and pulled away. "I must go," she said, "Bragnae will certainly be waiting to see when I retire." She hesitated a moment. "When can I see you again? I mean, like this, alone."

Salomon's spirits soared at her words. He was so happy that she was willing to be with him despite everything. "Tomorrow night," he replied hurriedly, "And the night after that. My next two nights are yours." The statement that after that time, his nights would be Gwen's hung unspoken between them.

She nodded and smiled sadly. "I love you," she said softly then turned and quickly ran out of the garden.

"I love you, Fallon!" he called after her. He turned back and sat on the bench with is head in his hands, not yet ready to retire to his rooms.

Neither of them had seen the third person watching them from behind some nearby bushes.

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Gwen ferch Cynyr stormed back to her chamber furiously. The little scene she had just witnessed in the garden played over and over again in her mind, enraging her. How could this be happening? Here she was, trying to make the best out of an unwanted marriage, and her husband-to-be was already running to the arms of some other woman! And not even a noblewoman! A serving wench! The whole situation was preposterous to her.

She was so angry that when she got to her room, she slammed open the door, and it rebounded from the wall with a thundering boom. Rowena, her personal lady's maid, who had been sitting on the edge of Gwen's bed, jumped so high that she nearly fell to the floor. Gwen didn't so much as utter one word of apology.

"The nerve of that pig!" she exclaimed as she through herself down beside Rowena, "How dare he do this to me?!"

"What is it, milady?" Rowena asked in her timid voice.

Rowena was her own age and had been her friend as well as her servant for many years, so Gwen did not mind speaking of personal matters with her. "Lord Salomon," she said through gritted teeth, investing buckets of scorn into the title, "Is tumbling one of the serving wenches." She didn't actually know if he was bedding her or not; she hadn't been able to hear all of their conversation. But she had heard enough.

Rowena gave a small giggle. Gwen barely kept herself from smacking the other woman silly. "Forgive me, milady," she said, "But that is not so bad. Most men have mistresses. 'Tis a known fact."

"I know that," Gwen growled, "But he told her he loved her. That I cannot abide!"

"Well," Rowena reasoned, "He is young, and he is probably bewildered by this arranged marriage. He is probably just turning to this servant for comfort. He doesn't know what he's saying. You just wait after we're married. You're a beautiful woman. He'll want no one else after he has you."

Gwen snorted. "You obviously understand nothing of men, Rowena. They want what they can't have no matter how good what they do have is."

"Well, you are much smarter than me, Miss. What are you going to do?"

Gwen thought for a moment. Then she decided on a plan of action. "I'm going to make that little wench regret ever looking higher than her station," she said, more to herself than to Rowena. Then louder, looking to her maid, she said, "Make sure that a young maid named Fallon attends me as often as you can, Rowena. I will quell this little relationship before it gets too far."

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How did you guys like it? I was going to do a little more, but I figured I would save it for the next chapter. I'll try to update as soon as possible. Please please please review and tell me what you think. Sorry if there are any typos and such, I checked, but it was like 3 in the morning when I finished this so I might have missed something.