He was travelling in the wilderness after Beaumont, the next town after Newcastle, before he finally caught up to her. He didn't approach her right away, just followed her at a distance, keeping an eye on her whenever she could. She seemed like she could handle herself, and he didn't interfere.
Once she was ambushed from the forest when traveling down a road. She handled them quickly and efficiently, drawing a talwar sword from her scabbard and fighting them off gracefully. He had considered helping, but decided to wait and see if she could actually fight before joining. As it turned out, she didn't need him and did just fine.
Afterwards, though, she crept off into the woods. He watched, concerned, as she dropped to the ground – and threw up. He realized that was the first time she had ever killed anyone. He started to approach her – then realized she probably wouldn't want him or anyone else to see her in her moment of weakness.
And it only lasted a few minutes. She wiped her mouth, and took a drink of water. He saw her angrily brush a few tears away from her eyes, and return to the scene to remove their pouch belts.
As he followed her, he began to get to know her, albeit at a distance. She was adventurous, and often laughed out loud. She wasn't shy, but she was reserved. She spent nearly all of her time alone, eating alone, sleeping in common rooms to conserve money. She gave to beggars frequently. She talked to little children and won their trust easily. And she avoided the men who hung around her constantly, avoided them with skill and elan. She didn't seem to be interested in any of them.
One night he was having a drink at a tavern, with his hood pulled up. At the opposite end of the tavern, he could see her sitting at a table having her dinner. Her back was to him, and she was sitting alone. He usually watched her like this when he could, and then ate his own dinner after she had already gone up to bed.
He leaned forward as three men approached her. They said something to her, and she studiously kept her head down. They took seats all around her, swaggering insolently. He saw her half draw her sword, and one of the men firmly put his hand over hers. He saw her flinch, and he summoned the barmaid over and paid for his drink.
When he looked up again, she was being escorted tightly between the three men. Her arm was held in a strange way, and from the slight look of pain on her face he surmised they were hurting her.
He quickly got up and followed them out, at a distance. They half pushed, half-dragged her up the stairs, and she had no choice but to go with them. They went down the hall and as he poked his head around the corner, he saw them go into room four.
No one had noticed this little play, but then no one had been watching as closely as he had. He casually walked down the hall and listened at room four.
For several minutes, he heard droning voices, and occasionally a much softer answer – her voice, he presumed. People walked by, and he pretended to be picking at his nails. He wondered what they had dragged her in there for.
He got the answer soon enough. His reverie was broken by the sound of a palm hitting a face, and a scream. Suddenly the room descended into bedlam, and he started to try and bash the door in – then thought better of it, and withdrew from his pouch a set of lockpicks. If he could sneak in when they weren't watching, so much the better.
His concentration was broken by a shrill scream, though – a scream like he had never thought to hear from her. He dragged his attention back, and carefully inserted the pick.
He heard a grunt and running feet, and then the sound of someone being tripped and a body hitting the floor. He turned the lock, and the door opened. Cautiously he stepped in, closing the door equally quietly behind him, and was greeted by an awful sight.
One of the men was sitting on the floor, his hand clutched tightly between his legs. Another man was standing with his back to the door and Julian, holding a now crossbow.
The third man was laying on top of a struggling Alania. Julian was surprised at the rage which swelled up inside of him. He could see blood pouring from a wound in her arm, where the bolt had hit.
He stepped up and tapped the shoulder of the man in front of him. When the man turned with a comically surprised, "Huh?" he cocked back and smashed his fist right into the center of his face. The man crashed to the floor. He was shocked at how good it felt.
He strode across the room to Alania, whose tormentor had crawled off her and was now backing desperately into the corner, waving his arms. "Nononono! I'm sorry! She wanted it, you know! They all do!"
Julian resisted the urge to belt him. "On the floor, on your face." He did so, and he quickly turned to Alania.
She had gotten up and made for the door. She threw it open, and screamed, at the top of her lungs, "Guards! Rape! Rape! Help!"
He heard the sounds of booted feet on the stairs. Suddenly the first man, the one who he'd belted in the face got up and tried to make a run for it. Alania didn't hesitate. She took a step forward, spun in a full circle, and kicked him in the face. He went down again.
She panted, weeping softly. Her dress was torn, and he grabbed the blanket off the bed on the way over to her. She flinched away from him at first, but then recognition dawned. "Julian?"
Her lip was puffy, too. They must have hit her. He gently wrapped the blanket around her, covering her. "It's all right, now, Alania. I'm sorry I took so long."
She opened her mouth to say something, when the inn guards thundered into the room. They raised crossbows, shouting, "Get down! All of you!" One waved it menacingly at Julian, and Alania moved fast.
In a heartbeat she was standing in front of him. "Don't fire! He saved me! It was them," she said, pointing at the three on the ground.
An older man in a uniform pushed his way through. "I'm Captain Torin miss, of the city guard. Are you all right?"
She nodded. "I am, now. These three men forced me to come up here. They held a knife to my side, and then they tried to accost me."
"And him?" The Captain said, eyeing Julian.
"He came in after me, and saved me."
"Is he a friend of yours, miss?" She nodded. "Yes, Captain. I'll be fine, I think."
He nodded, and motioned his men to pick up the three assailants. "These men will be going to jail. I just need to ask you a few questions." She nodded, but unconsciously her back stiffened. Julian, watching the proceedings, hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder. Immediately she leaned back ever so slightly into him.
The Captain went through his questions quickly, obviously embarrassed to be bothering her at this point. Finally he shut his notebook with a snap, and nodded. "Very well, Miss Marienne. I don't think we'll need you anymore. I'm sorry about all of this."
She nodded, and they left. She turned to Julian. He spoke, first. "Do you have a room here?" She shook her head. "Not yet."
"Come to mine, then." She nodded, and together they picked up her things which had been dropped on the floor.
They walked down to the room he had taken, the blanket still tightly wrapper around her. He kept one hand on the small of her back, and he felt her trembling.
Inside, he set her things down, and drew her over to the bed. He sat down next to her, and put his arms around her.
She stiffened in surprise, and pulled back, but he was stronger than her, and didn't let go. She hesitated, and then rested her head on his shoulder.
He felt her trembling increase. Soon she was shaking, and her fingers curled tightly into his chest as she began, softly, to sob.
She cried that way for several minutes, her head curled into his shoulder, wetting his shirt. She didn't cry loudly, or continuously, just soft sobs which soon receded into sniffles.
Finally she looked up at him. Their eyes met, and he realized this was the very first time he had ever looked into those green eyes with her guard down. No wonder she was always cautious with those eyes. It seemed he could see right down into her soul.
"Thank you, Julian." He shook his head.
"You don't need to thank me, Alania. Are you alright? Your face looks bruised."
She nodded, wiping the tears angrily. "That fat man hit me when I wouldn't..." she reddened. "When I wouldn't do what he said."
He cupped her chin, and as he did so, he noticed the blanket had slipped partially off her shoulders. He was jolted into awareness to realize her dress had been ripped enough to expose one small breast, and the hint of pinkish brown of her nipple.
He realized his body had instantly responded, and he mentally scolded himself. Bending, he kissed her softly on the forehead.
