The Beauty of Courage

~Seven~

At least part of him should have been surprised but he had seen something in her eyes the night before. He had thought nothing of it at the time, it was only while he slept that it haunted him and woke him up with a strong unsettled feeling in his gut. His first action is to go directly to her tent and step within. Blood for a moment seems as if it is everywhere. It drenches her dress, and is splattered down the skirt already muddied by travelling. It darkens her hair framing her face with an evil tint and crusts over her skin like a disease. For a moment he is sure that she had taken it upon herself to do a permanent form of escape. However as he moves forward he sees her flinch just slightly and white appear in amongst the red.

Eyes squint at him and he holds the tent flap up higher. She shies away from the light, eyes watering. His brows draw together, his mouth forming a harsh line. He drops the flap and strides to her. He grabs her wrist and pulls her to her feet. His next action is much gentler; his other hand cups her chin and tilts her head slowly from side to side. She hisses in pain but otherwise stays detached. He takes her other hand that is fisted tight and he prises it open. Inside her bloodied palm he finds the weapon she has used, a sharp small knife stained dark red.

He mutters curses under his breath as he pulls her after him forcing her into the light outside.

His men gathered around the camp fire preparing their breakfast glance over and freeze. Their eyes widen considerably and their mouths drop open. It is a reaction she has gotten many a time before but not for this reason. He waits for one of them to offer some words but no dares speak.

"You all had one job. To deliver her unharmed and unsullied to our King. Each and every one of you has failed because you allowed her to pick this up." He lifts her weapon of choice into the air and he sees the men cringe. "You know full well what He does to failures."

As they all continue to sit and stare at the two of them he growls. "On your feet! At least try to repair the damage. Now!" As he growls the last word it releases the men and they leap to their feet. Before they can run around like headless chicken he orders, "Boiling water. Cloths. Clothes. Needle. Thread."

He turns away from them sure that they will carry out his orders to a reasonable degree. He throws the knife away from him and looks her in the eye. The knife imbeds in the ground. It is the most unexpected move coming from her but she did it and she seems to hold no regret for her actions despite little skin being uncovered by thick red.

"You have done a lot of damage to your pretty face." He must be mistaken. A small insane smirk appears on her bleeding lips at his words. It is almost as if she understands him.

"He may still want you. He will keep you in the shadows now rather than by his side." He tests his theory but only receives a cold stare in reply. Some irritation seeps through in her eyes but that could be explained by him still speaking to her in a tongue she does not understand.

"What made you do this?" he asks her.

"Why ask a question you already know the answer to?" she retorts quietly.

Still holding her wrist securely he guides her down to sit by the fire and watches her carefully. "We may need to bind her hands together again, she clearly cannot be trusted," he tells Navi.

Navi places a pot of boiling water beside him and hands him a few clean cloths. "Be gentle, cleaning her face will hurt and most likely cause more bleeding. I will prepare her food to help her regain her strength," Navi directs him.

"I believe she has plenty of strength already," he replies bluntly but does not stop Navi when he goes about preparing breakfast.

He dips the cloth in the water and wrings it out, ignoring the tremendous heat against his palms. He kneels before her and with one hand on her chin he cleans away the blood with the other. She flinches slightly and tears rise into her eyes but she remains silent taking all the pain without complaining. The cuts she has gouged into her cheeks and forehead are deep and will most certainly scar. She has gone to great lengths to no longer be deemed beautiful. The cloth is soon drenched with blood and he wrings it out and starts again. Along the way he removes tiny splinters of wood and watches as she closes her eyes and clenches her jaw.