Karen of Teal, formally an Errant-Knight to the Kingdom of Idoshia, lay blissfully in her bed, barely conscious. Her body relaxed to the constant pitch and roll of her room, as her mind made note of the humming of the Argo’s fantastic sky machines. Her night was one of the most fantastic she had ever experienced, for she had become a bride. As a woman, she was experiencing life from a different point of view, and had become quite used to it. This acceptance was remarkable, considering she had once been a man.
Upon hearing a set of footsteps above her, on the main deck, Karen opened one eye surveying her cabin. She spotted shadows moving through the cracks of the wood, and heard muffled voices ordering themselves about. The suns were starting to raise midpoint in the course of time, and she felt a small pang of embarrassment that she had been sleeping so late. Then again, the last couple of phases had been exhausting. Her wedding dress and undergarments lay scattered upon a nearby chair. She giggled slightly, remembering how desperately she had wanted them off the evening before.
Then, Karen felt the weight upon her chest.
"To the gods! No!" she whispered, reaching up in a panic.
Karen’s concern could be understood. The last time she had felt such a weight, she had been known as Ka-Ron, a brave knight - a man. She had fallen victim to the wrath of a Wicca Master, who had blamed Ka-Ron for the sad death of her daughter. A daughter Ka-Ron had sworn to protect from all worldly evil. In her wrath, Kai, the Wicca Master, and mother of the unfortunate woman created a most evil curse - a curse worthy of destroying a knight’s life forever. Ka-Ron became a woman. And, in time, the woman became Karen.
However, this time, the woman’s fears were false. She breathed a sigh of relief, when upon reaching up towards her chest, to discover Jatel’s head lying between her breasts. She laughed, realizing that all was indeed quite normal.
Without Jatel, her successful transition from man to woman, and still able to remain sane, would not have been possible. A faithful comrade and warrior, Jatel’s kind hearts and brave manner helped Karen realize what love could be once she allowed the reality of her new station in life to take hold. She became quite amazed, when once faced with the choice to turn back into her former self, that it was love for her squire which had caused her to choose to stay a woman. Jatel, quite possibly, was the loneliest man upon the face of Nown. He too had become a victim of the Wicca Master’s spell - guilty only by association. By the boundaries of the curse, he fell in love with Ka-Ron, as a woman, and helped his master through many challenges, both beautiful and horrific. Only later, did both Ka-Ron and Jatel realize that they no longer needed to be chained by a curse. Their love grew, naturally.
Karen now, would not have it any other way, for she truly, completely, and absolutely loved her husband.
Jatel lay between her breasts snoring and drooling. Occasionally, the squire would let out a grunt or two, but was completely satisfied in his position upon his new wife.
"He sleeps," Karen whispered, rubbing her fingers through his blond hair, gently.
Karen’s attention towards her husband’s weight and position turned quite erotic, when she started to notice that the morning suns had harvested yet another erection from Jatel, and as he absently slept upon her, his sex gently knocked upon the moist and waiting doors of her own. The morning was starting to show promise!
The night before, however, Karen and Jatel had been so exhausted from their adventures, that both had fallen asleep in the mist of honeymoon love. The woman was indeed quite embarrassed, until Jatel’s snoring mingled with hers.
Perhaps, the gods were giving them both this moment to help make amends?
Karen kissed Jatel upon his forehead.
If Karen had to give her husband and squire a descriptive label, it would have to be "common." Jatel was as common as common could ever be, without being boring or totally ignored. He was almost her same height, and somewhat on the chubby side. Not chubby in the sense of being fat, he was just comfortable with himself, and never was he vain. He was brave, beyond question, and his loyalty was second to none. In combat he did what he had to do, and held no revenge toward his enemy once victory had been claimed. When his master needed him, Jatel had always been at her side.
One of the reasons the Wicca Master had included him as a part of her original curse, was due to the fact that although known for his bravery and sense of duty, Jatel was also known throughout Idoshia for his loneliness - for Ka-Ron’s squire was as lonely as a drunken monk.
Now, Jatel was the center of Karen’s world. It was ironic how things always seemed to work themselves out.
"Jatel," Karen whispered, shaking her husband’s head, slightly.
The squire moaned, not realizing that he was lying in a pool of his own drool.
Karen bit her bottom lip, opening up her legs. Then, positioning herself, she allowed Jatel’s body to slowly merge with hers. A slight sigh of pleasure escaped from the knight, as she started to move, enjoying her husband’s company once more.
This last caused Jatel to stir.
"Good morning, my love."
Jatel wiped the spit off his cheeks, soon feeling the delight of his wife’s company. As all young men would do, he joined in on her need to continue.
Karen let out a loud moan, rolling her eyes. As the rhythm of the lovers intensified, she wrapped her legs around Jatel’s ass tightly.
Neither seemed to notice, or realize that the Argo was increasing in speed.
Jatel continued his attack upon his wife’s sex, not at all paying attention to the rushing footsteps overhead. Karen’s screams of delight caused her not to notice that their cabin was starting to tilt dangerously towards their port.
Both were soon interrupted by the sounds of horrific explosions, knocking both from their bed. Naked and confused, both separated from the other gathering up their clothes.
"What’s going on here?" Jatel asked, buttoning up his pants.
"Your guess is as good as mine." Karen stated, positioning herself in a corset.
Again, the Argo shook with great violence. The whistling sound, this time, was quite familiar to the two warriors.
This was the sound of cannon fire.