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Julien seems almost afraid.
Aranessa wouldn't necessarily have noticed, considering the circumstances, except for the fact that part of him almost seems like it's afraid of her. The idea of that is almost laughable. Aranessa as she currently is certainly does not cut an intimidating figure—swaddled in too-loose borrowed clothing, tripping over boots several sizes too large, hair haphazardly pulled back into a lopsided braid she has never had to manage for herself before. She has been too nauseous to eat for days, every bite tasting of the ghoulish blood she'd desperately bitten down on in the Palazzo Davinos on what very well may be the worst night of any of their lives, and she is sure that lack of appetite is taking more of a toll on her body than she can truly afford. Even Occtis, who is not only literally dead but also right now has Pincushion tucked into his elbow like he's holding a little baby, inspires more confidence.
But Julien is struggling to meet her eye in a way he has only once before, and when they make camp for the night he drops his pack to the ground on the opposite side of the small fire Thaisha is coaxing to life and announces that he's going to do a perimiter check in a tone that leaves no invitation for accompaniment. Aranessa knows him—she probably knows him better than anyone left alive, at this point—and she knows when he's on edge. She can hardly blame him for it, but it has also been close to a week now, and she is well aware that there is only so far a mind can be pushed before it breaks.
She almost wants to say something, but present company suggests that doing so would be unwise.
Thaisha's sparks have flickered into a proper blaze by the time Aranessa has managed to situate herself semi-comfortably in her chosen spot, aching shoulders freed of the pack that had taken much convincing for Julien to permit her to carry. The angry bruises across her torso have largely faded in the days since the fight, but the soreness still lingers.
She's beginning to think that she was not built for travel. Aranessa has never been this tired in her entire life. Her legs are trembling with exhaustion. She cannot keep her mind off of how badly the bandage around her arm itches. Rightfully, she probably does not need it anymore—the wound has reduced itself to a neat scab, thin enough that if she is lucky it may not even scar—but Julien has insisted on rewrapping it for her each morning, checking for signs of infection each time, and Aranessa allows it because it seems to be the only thing that quells the shaking in both their hands. Just because he's barely spoken aloud since the beginning of their journey does not mean he's any less devoted to serving his Lady as best he can. She gets the sense that he his clinging to his knightly duties so strongly because there is nothing else to catch him in his grief.
Nothing else except for her, that is—and yet he will not confide in her. Something about that hurts more than the blisters between her toes.
Their camp is silent. Any conversation they may have wanted to make as a group had largely petered out by the second day of travel, and nowadays they're unlikely to speak any more than strictly necessary to organize watches or split up their rations. Aranessa's fairly certain they all need some time to grieve, and that is not the kind of thing that is easy to do around strangers.
Still. Between the rest of the current circumstances and Julien's uncharacteristic stoniness, Aranessa finds herself feeling… lonely? That is even less justifiable than Julien's possible fear (or worse, she is beginning to think, maybe ire) of her. Surely her defense of Occtis Tachonis has not made Julien wary of her, too? She would like to think that would not be the case, but her entire worldview has been shattered ever since Thjazi's death, and she is no longer sure what she believes.
Under normal circumstances, that would never do. Aranessa is a woman of her station, and if she cannot act sure of herself, she has very little left to hold onto. Of the many lessons Aranessa's mother had imparted on her as a child, this had always been the most important one. A Lady of House Royce does not show fear. A Lady of House Royce must stand as a beacon of confidence for those who look up to us.
Not that there's anyone here to worry about being looked up to by. Thaisha is clearly at home in these woods, pointing out plants that are safe to eat or poisonous or can be crafted into all sorts of medicinal uses, trekking her way along unmarked trails and across all manner of terrain hazards as though she was born to exist in the freedom of the outdoors. Occtis, even with the lack of his entire heart (an image Aranessa is quite certain she will never fully manage to get out of her mind) doesn't seem to have too much trouble keeping up, evidently entirely used to this mode of travel. Vaelus is doing… however Vaelus is doing. Julien would probably march himself to death at this point if the others let him, not a hint of tiredness (or any emotion, really) on his face.
Aranessa's clearly the problem. She is slow, she tires quickly, and she has absolutely no idea what she's doing, which makes her useless at best and actively in the way at worst when it comes to setting up camp for the night—and while nobody's said as much, she's reasonably sure that they've been doing that far earlier each night than they would have needed to had she not insisted on coming along. Their pace is already behind Thaisha's prediction, even if the other woman insists it had been an overly optimistic goal. Aranessa is slowing them all down. If they are pursued, and caught, and killed, she will probably be the one to blame.
Part of her longs to turn to Thaisha for comfort, but a more insistent part of her professes that she ought to be above such desires. A Lady of House Royce does not show weakness. She is causing her sister-in-law enough problems already; she can hold herself together for a few more days or weeks or months until she has managed to truly assess exactly how much she has to grieve.
The cracking of a stick causes her to flinch, hands freezing in place where they'd been attempting to rub some modicum of relief into the upper part of her calf right below the right knee. Thaisha and Occtis, too, have stilled, eyes slowly scanning their surroundings in a synchronized, practiced sort of way that suggests they've done this before. Vaelus is still doing whatever she always seems to be doing, which involves a considerable amount of aloof mysteriousness, but Aranessa's fairly certain she would be able to tell if Vaelus looked concerned or anything, which she doesn't.
Before she can question that any further, though, Thaisha and Occtis also relax. The source of the sound was only Julien—honestly, that broken branch was probably even deliberate on his part, because they're all on-edge enough for any potential jumpscares to pose a serious danger to whoever had shown up unannounced—and the loaded silence falls over them all again as though it had never been broken in the first place. Julien rifles through his pack for the briefest of moments, pockets something, then circles the fire, nodding to Thaisha and Vaelus, scowling at Occtis, and firmly planting himself on the ground just barely less than an arm's length away from Aranessa.
"…Oh," she whispers. That was certainly… unexpected.
She raises her head in an attempt to meet Julien's gaze. It's a futile effort, of course. Currently, his eyes are fixed onto her hands, which are still clutching at the sore muscle of her leg. His mouth presses into a thin line. It's clear he wants to say something. Aranessa could probably spare him the effort of asking what she needs and just tell him herself what she wants, but—
A Lady of House Royce is always proprietous.
Aranessa says nothing. They are not alone here.
"My Lady?" Thaisha calls softly from the other side of the fire. Aranessa's eyes shift to meet her gaze. She's half-heartedly holding something out in front of her, dirt-stained fingers wrapped around a small bundle. "We still have some of those wild carrots from last night. Would you like them?"
It takes more willpower than Aranessa would like to admit not to shudder at the thought. She may have barely eaten this morning, but she still feels so uncomfortably full that just the thought of swallowing something is making her nausea redouble. Those carrots in particular also have a strong, earthy smell and taste that she doesn't think would bring her much comfort right about now. "No, thank you."
She tries to offer an encouraging smile as she says it, though it's clearly a futile effort. No matter. Soon enough they'll be out of these woods, and not too much longer after that they'll reach the Golden Orchard, and then no matter what she finds there she will at least have answers, and maybe that will be enough to allow her to feel like she's alive again.
Thaisha's concerned gaze lingers on her for a moment longer, but she doesn't push the issue. Maybe she trusts Julien to take care of it.
Evidently, she trusts right.
Julien's outstretched arm reaches into Aranessa's field of vision, offering a morsel of something pale like a lifeline. It's clearly something else that went uneaten this morning, tightly wrapped by Thaisha's careful hands. "Have a potato."
He doesn't phrase it as a suggestion. Unbidden, Aranessa's voice makes a sound that halfway resembles a laugh, halfway chokes out a sob. "Please, no." She is so sick of cold potatoes. She is so sick of everything.
There's something unreadable behind his eyes. "My Lady…."
It's hardly the first time he's done this. As children, Aranessa had frequently needed reminders to eat, and Julien had taken that task upon himself with all the duty only a child with impossible expectations on his shoulders can muster. She wonders whether that might have anything to do with the amount of protectiveness he still feels for her even now.
A Lady of House Royce does not starve herself for no reason.
It was never for no reason, not that that had ever been an acceptable excuse to anyone except Julien, but it's far too late for that to matter anymore. Besides, a Lady of House Royce probably does not become sick in front of her companions if she can help it, either, but surely just one bite won't kill her, and maybe eating something will assuage Julien and Thaisha's clearly growing concerns just a little longer. Dense, bland foods are more manageable than most, a fact that Julien has always remembered about her and is clearly doing his best to provide for now.
Aranessa accepts the potato, obediently taking the biggest bite she can tolerate and trying to chew it slow, as though her consumption of this vegetable is going to make any difference in whether or not they all live to see another day. It takes her a moment of deliberation before she manages to swallow. It feels like cold tar going down. "Just like at home."
She'd been hoping to startle a laugh out of him for that. Evidently it doesn't quite work, but he does actually look at her, which is better than she'd really expected. Days-old tavern food is a far cry from the lavish banquets of their childhood, even if Aranessa had never had much interest in those either.
What a pair they make—he orphaned and she widowed on what may as well have been the same night, for how little sleep either of them had gotten in the interim. They have always been far more similar to one another than anyone seems to realize.
"What can I do?" Julien asks, voice so soft the question is clearly meant only for her.
Aranessa doesn't want to ask anything more of him. He has been through so much already. She has put him through so much already.
A Lady of House Royce is not selfish. But House Royce no longer exists.
"…Stay near?" she asks, hating how childish the request sounds, hoping it will be accepted all the same.
Julien's eyes, finally, meet hers. There is something unreadable in his expression.
"…Of course, my Lady," he says. "Always."
It's impossible not to believe him.