Belladonna - Holiday Traditions

The sight before me was an omen. A sign certainly that we were in for it again. I had the sudden urge to call down Pen, to ask if there were more tears in the thread of the world. To walk into the streets and personally test every lantern there was, looking for signs of burn out or infection. It was a knee-jerk reaction but one that I didn’t feel anyone could blame me for.

In front of me, Belladonna sat on my sofa, clad in a pair of oversized sweats and a large hooded shirt. Her hair was wrapped up messily on the top of her head, and her makeup had been wiped away entirely. It left her pale, the firelight flickering across her face in an orange smear.

“Could you pour me some more wine, dear heart?” She didn’t even look up as she held out the glass.

I had been out most of the day. Visiting friends. Checking on the status of areas of the market. The Yule season was upon us and I wanted to make sure that everything was going accordingly, given how things had a tendency to go holiday awry this time of year.  The last thing I expected, as I crawled through my apartment window, was Belladonna. The very very last thing I expected, was Belladonna sans even a hint of leather and lace.

“Hi,” I said dumbly. Because I was still not certain this was her. Or if it was some odd dream. Perhaps a changeling coming to take her place a whisk me away in the dead of night.

The only thing familiar about the entire ordeal was the fact that she had a book in her lap.

Still not looking at me, she shook the wine glass. “Wine, my heart. I’m just getting to the good part.”

Slowly, I walked over to her, my feet cautiously, taking it one step at a time until I could reach out and grab the glass from her hands. Her nails weren’t even painted.

“Uh, Bella?”

“Hmm?” She turned the page of her book, only half listening.

“You okay?”

“I would be better if I could finish this chapter.” It was the subtle little cue from her that I needed to shut up. I had heard it before and had once not backed off. She turned vicious when her reading time was interrupted.

Needing a moment to think about what I was seeing, I turned back to my kitchen where three bottles of wine sat neatly. Two of them were blood wine and one a bottle for me. I poured some of the blood wine in her glass, smelling the copper tang of it and watching as it stained the crystalline sides. Belladonna had mostly been working this week. Something about the Baron council in chaos for land reorganization issues. It was all a petty dispute, from what I could see, but Bella had been put in charge of redistributing who had say with what. And it caused more than a few Baron’s to put up a fight. I hadn’t seen her more than a handful of moments for what felt like a moon cycle. I hadn’t even known she was coming here tonight. I had been content to potentially spend the holiday alone and give her the gift I had found for her, when I next saw her. But, as always, Belladonna had different plans.

When I came back to her, the crinkle of the next page echoed through the room as she wordlessly held out her hand. I handed her the glass, watching as her eyebrows rose at whatever was on the page, and she took a healthy sip of her drink. A small smiled curled at each corner, either at the taste of the wine or the words on the page, and finally, she closed her book and turned to look at me.

“Well, hello, my heart. Happy Yule or whatever it is we are celebrating.”

I blinked at her. “You’re here.”

“I would think so.”

“And you aren’t wearing an evening gown.”

She tipped her head to the side, a bemused expression flitting across her eyes. “Is that what has got you in such a tizzy. The state of comfortable dress has nearly got you shaking like a leaf.”

“I’m just not used to it,” I told her.

Taking another sip, she set her glass aside. “I suppose I should have sat here naked. That may have been a more common sight to you.” With a flick of her finger, she beckoned me forward. I could feel the very slight pull of her thrall as I stumbled to the sofa, coming to sit beside her. And while normally, she pulled me against her, this time, she curled against my side.

“Okay, seriously. Are you okay?”

I could hear her throaty chuckle. It reverberated through me like a warm caress. “I am fine. I am merely letting you in on a tradition of mine.”

“Oh?”

“Once a year, normally around this time, I like to remember my roots. What it was like to be human. So, I don clothes that are far too large for me, and far too cheap for my liking, take off all the trappings of Belladonna Malady, and curl up with a new book.  Most of the time, I read through the evening and then am useless the next day, but it is worth it.”

I craned my neck to look at her. “Was this a holiday tradition you had when you were alive?”

“It was. My parents couldn’t afford much, but they made sure every holiday eve, to give me a new book. I would then go to my bed and curl within it, fighting the cold for the rest of the night while I read by candlelight. I have not missed a single year of it.”

Part of me relaxed. Every so often, a more human side emerged from Belladonna. It made me remember that underneath the cold exterior and the sultry voice, had once been a woman who was the daughter of a priest and who worked the farm with her mother. It was a secret. One that the two of us shared. And each glimpse into her human life brought me closer to her because I knew that she was not sharing that part of herself with anyone that she did not trust implicitly.

“If I had known this was a tradition of yours, I would have gotten you a book for tonight.”

Her eyes ticked towards the mantle. “That wrapped gift up there is not for me?”

“Not for tonight,” I told her. “You have to wait until morning.”

There was a small pout to her lips. “But I already know it is a novel. Couldn’t I open it now?”

“No,” I laughed. “Morning. It’s tradition.”

“Who’s?”

“Mine. Starting now.”

Turning, she narrowed her eyes. “I could just steal it, you know. Walk over there, pluck it up and tear into the paper.”

“You could,” I agreed. “But that would mean you would have to put back on the trappings of Belladonna,” I reasoned. “And since you got into, how did you describe it, cheaply made clothes? It seems like such a waste if you are going to go through all that effort just to toss them back off.”

Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and that was how I knew I had won.

Laying back down, she situated herself until her head was in my lap, grabbing her book again. “Your punishment is you are not allowed to move for the rest of the night. I will be reading, and you will be my pillow.”

“Who is going to get you your wine?”

She rolled her eyes. “You need a butler. I’ll put the paperwork in for one tomorrow.”

Laughing, I scooted down on the sofa so the two of us could sit more comfortably. “And what am I to do while you immerse yourself in your book?” It wasn’t a wholly serious question. I would have been content laying there and watching her read all night. But Belladonna shifted a little, getting more comfortable as she cleared her throat.

Her words washed over the room as she began to read and I felt myself transfixed. This beautiful, bright, intelligent woman could tear apart anyone with a look. With a word. She ruled her domain fiercely and quickly shut down altercation she didn’t find worth her time.

Yet, there was such softness to her now.

A softness that was all mine.

Sighing, I closed my eyes, listening to the crackle of the fire and the way she wove a story. Already I was looking forward to next year.