Belladonna had never been one to fancy blood, despite how much her mother had made her accustomed to it.
Perhaps that was where her hatred for the color even steamed from.
Although she liked to tell herself that she hated it because it clashed with the color of her eyes and made them ache, but what if there was more? What if it reminded her of every time her mother had caused her to bleed? What if some part of her found that color repulsive because it triggered memories she would love to believe that she had overcome?
What if...
She had never thought about it before, but after cleaning so much blood and having the metallic smell cling to the roof of her nose and her tongue to the point that she could almost taste it, the thought was crawling all over her mind.
Lady Kestra had worked smoothly and the injured victims had stopped coming in a long time ago.
Anok had gone to help them, although at first he didn't want to leave her side until Lady Kestra had stepped in, and assured him that everything would be alright.
He seemed to have a lot of respect for her but who wouldn't, her reputation preceded her and from the way she was organizing everything perfectly, questioning her capabilities was stupid.
The memories kept coming.
Suffocating her while she pushed through it and tried to help as much as possible. The sound of the water trickling down into the bowl, the red liquid she looked down into, the smell that clung to her nose, and the sound of pain from the people, they all clashed into her mind, although with memories of whips and cleaning that she had done in the past.
The pain.
It was familiar.
It was suffocating.
It was too much.
But she continued fighting, wanting to help.
Till a hand moved against hers and pulled her out of the hall.
The warm air that hit her nose without the metallic smell made her hold her knees.
Her breathing was heavy and she could feel beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.
Someone was patting her back gently, saying something to her that she couldn't really hear but the touch was comforting and the pat was pulling her out of her memory.
Finally, she sucked in a breath, opened her eyes, and looked at Anok whose face was filled with seriousness and a linger of displeasure.
"Are you alright, My Lady?"
She straightened up and gave a nervous chuckle.
She had already given up on trying to make him refer to her informally, but it was obvious that he would never listen.
She shook her head.
"I just felt a little overwhelmed earlier."
"I didn't know the blood would affect you that much, My Lady. I apologize for not stopping you sooner."
"I wanted to do this. You don't have to apologize for that, I'm fine."
He smiled.
What was so funny about that?
He found the strangest things amusing. At least, that was what she had figured out today or it could be that this was because he was used to this sort of thing.
As a General, the blood and the groans of pain must not be bothering him.
"We should get back in." She started walking in the direction of the hall but he stood in front of her, his hands folded behind him.
"We are done for today. They can take it from here. I am done with my last stitch---"
"But---"
His hands held her shoulders. They felt unnatural, and the way he carried them showed that he wasn't used to this kind of situation.
"What are you doing, Anok?" She whispered.
Was this some kind of ritual?
It was a naturally acceptable contact but coming from him, it didn't feel so natural.
He sighed, pressing his hands down but they didn't hurt.
"I, along with some others, used to think that you were a weak and pathetic woman that couldn't do anything for herself but always need protection. A miserable burden."
Belladonna frowned.
She wished she still had that needle, she would have poked it into his eyes.
"I still think you need protection but I don't think you are weak and pathetic anymore."
"Thank.... you?"
"Reserve your gratitude, My Lady, I am not done yet."
By Ignas, how interesting.
He sighed again.
"I still think you need protection but I no longer think you weak and pathetic. We watched you struggle through your pain to help us today and our perspective of you has changed for the better."
She parted her lips to say something but she couldn't find the right words so she kept quiet.
That felt a compliment mixed with insults, something about it felt good though.
"On behalf of everyone, I express our gratitude for putting your safety at risk for us."
His eyes held a glint that she could have sworn she had never seen before.
There was respect.
It seem she had just earned it.
"Shall I accompany you to your room, Lady Bell?"
A smirk crossed her lips and her earlier confusion faded away.
He was a strange one.
Calling her by her name when she had finally seemed worthy to him.
He left shortly and came back with a bottle of water and she took it for him.
"You must be thirty," he said while they walked down the hallway and headed down the stairs.
She shook her head and thanked him.
She was indeed thirsty, but if she was to drink water right now, she might get sick here and all that respect he had just earned, would go down the drain, along with her dignity.
She couldn't risk that.
Her steps halted and her shoulders fell, when they approached the stairs.
"Do you think he will be alright? Is he not at least supposed to---" her voice trailed off. "Do you think he will come out today?"
"I don't know, My Lady."
"We should go and check."
"It will not please the King if he were to ask of you and I have nothing to offer him but a burnt sacrifice. That is if I can lay my hands on that. My head would have to tell my neck and the rest of my body a hurried goodbye."
The image of that would have been amusing, and she would have laughed if she hadn't imagined Eli being in the burnt situation Anok had described.
"The King can take care of this, no one can do it better. I trust him, you should too."
"I do but---"
There was a growl and Anok's hand shot to her, pulling her along with him without a second thought.
He was always reluctant to touch her, just as fear was always reluctant to make it into his eyes, but both had happened at that moment.
Fear.
Gripping, paralyzing fear.