“You must be mistaken, there is no way she could have POSSIBLY survived.” “Begging your pardon, my King, but I do believe I am alive.” Bela sauntered in, a smile on her lips and a purse of gold at her hip for her patron. The king smiled widely, tucking her into a tight embrace that would have made a lesser person blush. “Ah, Bela! It cannot be true that there were twenty scores of undead, you had no reinforcements…” The king looked at loss for words as he led his hero over to a table set with battle plans and jugs of wine. Bela eased her sore body into a chair and sighed as a woman poured the two a glass of wine. “By the grace of the Father I was able to send the creatures back to death where they belong. No villagers were harmed in the fray…” she reported, all business for her liege. Her body ached and she knew there was a fresh wound on her shoulder that would need to be attended to. “Yes, but you can’t have taken on that many without being injured…surely…” his voice of concern was cut off as another warrior came up and clapped Belamica on the back in greeting, a small wince was all that broken her stoic demeanor, but it was enough for the king to see. “Leslie! Bring Belamica to Maester Jamon, make sure she is taken care of. My champion, go rest, there is time for boasting in the morrow.” With that, Bela didn’t complain, didn’t protest, simply followed the serving woman down the hall. She knew the way to Maester Jamon’s by herself, and Leslie knew that well enough, but she was doing as tasked by her king, so Belamica said nothing. “What on earth possessed you to do such a thing alone, Bela,” the soft voice came from the well muscled man before her. Looking nothing like the Maester’s Bela knew, Jamon was a rare breed. Beautiful and well built, a man suited for battle, but an accident as a child had left him blind, and because of that he made himself known in scholarly circles. Eventually he made his way through the ranks to those of the king, who had kept him as a royal healer and advisor. A shiver went through the paladin as Jamon peeled her armor off, exposing the festering wound underneath. His delicate fingers danced over Bela’s pale flesh and all she could do was bite into her lip to hold back a whimper. No one gave her the sensations Jamon did, and to Bela’s warrior mind, it was unsettling. He cleaned and sewed her wounds with the precision of someone with keen eyesight and let his hand rest on her uninjured shoulder once he was done. “You must not throw yourself so recklessly into danger..” his concern almost made Bela squirm, and as his hand moved to cup her chin, Belamica had to hold back a sound of surprise. His unseeing eyes stared blankly into hers. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you…” His closeness made Bela stand abruptly. She didn’t know how to deal with the warring feelings inside her. “Thank you Maester, for you aid, if you could have a sleeping draught sent to my room for bed, I believe that is all.” The woman gathered her things without so much as another wince and left the Maester grumbling to himself.