Hi! I apologize for not updating this story often! Originally, this story was going to be a one shot, but Arella's rage changed that into ambition.

If one were to ask any of the witnesses as to why Arella was striking in rage at the air in front of her, one would get a plethora of answers.

The common folk would claim it to be madness.

The medical healers would claim it to be due to her wandering womb.

The clergy would claim it to be angels and demons fighting over her soul, and that Arella was currently in fisticuffs with the devil's minions.

Yes, these are the answers one would receive if asking what was wrong with the foreign blonde girl from France.

And the solutions to these answers?

Many a common folk would simply say to have her get married, for surely a woman could not function without a husband.

Many a medicine man would simply say to get her pregnant, for surely that would calm her wandering womb, and still the little beast.

Many a clergy would simply say to let her be, and let her fight for her own soul.

Yes, there are the solutions that would be given, if one asked.

And what of the nobles? Pffff. They did not care about the seeming madness of a peasant girl, balling her hands into fists that were too soft for war, and throwing them clumsily into the hot air. They did not care about the film of sweat that had broken upon her skin, strands of blonde hair plastering to her face, clinging to her fair features. They did not care about the trickle of crimson that ran in thin streams from her uncalloused palms into the heated sands, her nails biting into her skin. They did not care for reddened flush upon her cheeks from the heat of the day, a scent of sweat wafting from her person and staining her clothing. They did not care that her tongue was so dry, she could barely speak. They did not care that her arms were fatigued, heavy and sore, from fighting an invisible battle.

No, they did not care.

No one cared that the little foreign girl from France was in such an intense dance of fisticuffs with an invisible force that she neglected her health.

No one cared that the blonde was currently fighting a war that she was never going to win.

Well, all but one.

Indeed, Baldwin had been watching the girl from a distance, trying to understand. Trying to find logic in her actions.

He could not.

This girl, indeed, was a very baffling woman, and for all the questions he had asked, none of the answers-nor their solutions-appeared to match. Not of what he knew of the young blonde woman, anyway.

And thus, someone cared.

Someone cared about the odd foreign girl from France to ask but a simple question: "Why do you strike the air as if you are at war?"

Upon hearing Baldwin's voice trickle through the wind and to her heated ears akin to a gently flowing stream, Arella gave her arms rest-if only for a little while. The blonde attempted to answer, but found the air she breathed in and sucked into her lungs stole her breath, and her voice.

When she tried to speak, she could not. Not at first, for all that came out was soft clicks and wheezes-which she ceased by taking out a canteen, and downing all the liquid inside as if she were a rabid beast.

Only then, did the young woman find her voice, "...I am at war..." Arella responded, attempting to drink more from her canteen, but alas, found not a drop to be spared.

The answer to his question caused Baldwin to tilt his head, sunlight illuminating from his mask and hurting the girl's eyes, white fabric draping limply over his shoulder, "With whom?"

The little foreign girl from France paused to wipe the glimmering sweat from her brow, a film of perspiration coating the back of her hand, "With God," Arella spoke, wiping the film upon her trousers, "The one knight said God is all around, everywhere. So, if God is everywhere, and everything, all around, I can fight Him...and if I fight Him hard enough, maybe I will finally my answer."

The Leper had to suppress a chuckle at the girl's foolish antics, which was quite a feat, given the circumstances. He did not wish to appear rude. It was just her way of mourning, he assumed, "The answer as to why your father passed?"

Arella faltered in her answer, hesitated, the reddened flush upon her cheeks from the heat only seeming to intensify, as if she were suddenly embarrassed, and realizing the fault of her actions, "Yes. It is just...the anger. The rage. I need to get it out, and I cannot keep busting my fists open on the cathedral floor...I want to do more." The woman's face then shifted, molded into into a gnarled sneer of wrath, "I...want to. Do. More." The blonde's tone twisted into a hiss, rage hot on her tongue.

Her blue eyes then flicked towards the masked man, her tone suddenly becoming less caustic, more tame, more firm, "Kind King, I apologize for my actions. I have made up my mind, regarding your suggestion of serving as maid to your sister. I shall accept. However-and forgive me if I am too bold-I wish to serve you as well, Kind King. I have worked under the medicine men here for a very short time, but I have learned much. I do not want my knowledge hindered, and I wish to aid you. I could not help my father, but I can at least help you, if you will allow me, for you have been most kind when I have been most foolish. Like now...or, rather, just a few minutes ago. And prior at the church."

Once more, Baldwin's head cocked, a brow raising underneath his mask. How queer. This woman went from a nervous bird to a lion. Far different from their previous meetings-however brief, with her talk of little flowers called dandelions and talks of France. Anger appeared to be her power, "You stated your father is your closest of kin, correct? And that you have no one back home? If that is the case, I will accept your service to both myself, and my dear sister." I wouldn't be quite fair to send this girl back home with no male relative to give her succor. And with war causing strife across the land? She would more than likely perish in her journeys.

For the first time in a long time, Arella grinned, teeth showing and shining under a film of saliva. The girl jumped lightly in place by her ankles, feet never leaving the dry ground, "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you, my kind liege! I shall serve you well-I swear it upon my father's honor!"

It was so strange. Arella had not been in this city for very long, and so much has changed so quickly-herself included. A shy, sheltered merchant's daughter, innocent to the world, naive and stupid. Now, with the anger...ever since the anger...It was just a strange feeling. Before, everything was confusing and scary. Unknown. Now, everything was clear, and firm, and strong. Arella knew what to do now.

She would not fight God with her foolish ways of the fist.

She would fight God by helping this sick king.

She would fight God by denying Him this man's soul, by prolonging God's claim over this kind man.

God may have claimed her father, but she would not let Him claim the Leper.

She would heal, and soothe, and calm with fury and rage.

How foolish she was! To believe Jerusalem was the answer to everything! To believe that God answered all prayers in Jerusalem!

How foolish she was! To believe God was kind and just! Her father was kind and just-and God took him away from her!

Never again.

Never again would Arella allow that to happen.

That was her oath.

That the Angel would protect the Leper.

Thank you for reading! I apologize for the shortness of the chapter.

I was going to write a rather simple story regarding these two that would be if Jordan never died, and Baldwin and Arella developed some type of romance, to which her father found out about (more than likely from Baldwin asking for the man's blessing to simply be with his daughter). It would have basically revolved around Jordan heavily disapproving, fretting over his daughter's sexual purity (and health in general due to Baldwin's disease), and forcing Arella to go back to France to be married off, with Baldwin and Arella largely keeping in contact via letters throughout her arranged marriage.

As a story-not too complex-but heavy on emotional distress. I tried writing it a few times, but just found I couldn't, as much as I would love to.

Otherwise, you might see a random one shot series regarding my shitty OC (Arella), hopefully me updating this story more, and maybe (hopefully) the Scarlet Letters story.

Thank you all for supporting this story, and I apologize for the waits in updates.

Arella's anger lit a fire under my ass. :)