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Bette woke first, sunlight now streaming through the open window holes. She blinked, a slight headache on the edges of her brain that she realized would have been a lot worse if it wasn’t for the awful tasting powder Lady Christina made her drink the night before.
She must have shifted in the night and her head was tucked in the back of the Lady, right between her shoulder blades. She breathed in that wildflower and lilac scent one more time then pulled away, rolling off the bed to use the restroom again, troubled.
Troubled by her desire to be close to the blonde, to shed the image she so carefully constructed over years and years of sailing the seas. Troubled that she wanted this badly, after only one day of being around the Lady Christina.
I am a fool, she thought. Foolish and weak.
Allowing anything more than a healing relationship would undermine everything she had built, strived for. She would be exactly what her father had shouted at her on her last day at the castle. A foolish girl with her head in the clouds.
When she returned, Lady Christina was sitting up, rubbing her face. Her blonde hair was tousled, and she looked really pretty, so Bette busied herself with getting ready for the day. She went to a floor length mirror and considered her outfit, rather liking the black shirt on black leather pants and boots. She turned to Christina and held up her hand.
“I can’t have it bandaged like this. I can’t be a formidable and mighty one handed Captain. No one is scared of a one handed swordswoman. Can you make the wrapping smaller?”
Lady Christina blinked, wondering if the first thought the Captain had in the morning was always about herself, not knowing that Bette woke up wondering what exact elements made up the blonde’s smell.
She nodded. “I will just… I need to use the restroom…” Bette nodded and waved absentmindedly towards the door, more interested in strapping her many knives back in place than she was in the blonde’s morning routine.
Lady Christina looked at herself in the small, dirty mirror hanging on the wall in the restroom. The bruise on her cheek was faint but still present and she thought about the night Lord Eric first hit her, the night she refused his hand in marriage. She thought she was safe in her father’s castle, but Lord Eric proved that wrong.