"Well, my dear Lady Rosaline, I believe it would be improper to keep you from your rest any longer. Allow me to walk you back to your quarters?" Benvolio watched his betrothed out of the corner of his eye, fighting to smother a grin. Oh, how far they'd come since their marriage had been arranged by the Prince. Where she'd once looked upon him with disdain, now he would catch her softening and even, at times, smiling when she saw him.

This, it turned out, would be one of those rarities. She shook her head with affection in her eyes and turned to him. "You know that I am but a lowly serving girl, my lord," she murmured, suddenly somber. Her choice of words brought to mind their first meeting, and his own affection warred with surprisingly personal bitterness towards the Lady Capulet.

"No," he growled. Rosaline's breath caught when he stepped forward into her space, but he couldn't bring himself to care that it might be deemed inappropriate. His hands came up to cradle her face, and his eyes bored into hers to ensure he had her full attention. "Your Aunt may have attempted to smother you beneath the title of servant following the death of your parents, but you and I both know she will never succeed. Your passion, your fire cannot be stifled by that wretch, and once we are wed, you will never suffer at her hand again."

"Benvo-"

"And what, pray tell, do you expect will come of her when her dearly betrothed is cut down in the streets?"

The pair spun to face their intruder, Benvolio stepping easily in front of Rosaline and dropping his hand to his sword. Rosaline's hand settled on his bicep. The slight tremor in her touch set his protective instinct racing, and he tried to place the man before them. "We want no trouble, sir."

"That is unfortunate, Montague, because trouble will be yours. The Lady Capulet will not stand to see filth like you staining the honor of our house. Even if it is with a lowly serving girl." The stranger nodded to someone behind them. Rosaline yelped, and Benvolio would have leapt to her defense had the man before him not attacked at the same moment. The clashing of their swords nearly drowned out Rosaline's cry of "Benvolio!", and it took everything in him to keep his focus on his own fight.

"If your quarrel is with me, then let the lady go! Lord Capulet will not be pleased if she is killed for his wife's vendetta against my house!" Taking an opening, Benvolio kicked his attacker back and glanced over his shoulder. Rosaline was struggling against two other men, one of whom held a dagger to her throat. The sight had the Montague seeing red.

His distraction was just enough, and Benvolio saw horror take over Rosaline's face an instant before agony erupted in his back. She screamed, begging someone to come to their aid. "The Lady did instruct us to leave her alive...but she said nothing about unharmed." The taunt, too loud in his ear, had panic jumping into Benvolio's throat. An arm came around his chest to hold him upright and the sword was jerked free. The young lord groaned and would have collapsed if not for the assistance. "I will so enjoy taking your little serving girl while all you can do is watch...and die."

Benvolio was able to keep himself on his feet for several seconds once the support was removed, and his eyes locked on Rosaline's. Tears filled her warm brown gaze, and his increasingly sluggish brain registered the emotion in them to be grief...not fear. Grief for him. "Forgive me," he pleaded. The impact of his knees hitting the ground jarred his wound, and he curled in on himself. His vision tunnelled, and he swallowed thickly.

"No! Let me go!"

"Shut up, whore! Your protector is not long for this world, we need to have our fun while we can." Even as a fog seemed to settle over his mind, Benvolio fought to keep himself conscious.

"Get your filthy hands off of me! He-"

A sharp slap echoed through the alleyway, and the soft sound of pain that escaped Rosaline was enough to jolt his system. Drawing in a shaky breath, Benvolio drew on any remaining reserves of strength he possessed, and surged to his feet. Without a word, he stumbled towards the distracted thugs. He drew his own dagger, dispatching one of the three men before the others even noticed that the Montague was back on his feet. The next thug fell to his sword, before Benvolio was stunned by an abrupt punch across the jaw.

"How gallant...not behavior I would have expected out of your pathetic house. This time, I will put you down for good, like the dog that you are. Say goodbye, Montague." Benvolio snarled at him, bracing himself for death now that Rosaline only had one adversary to dispatch herself.

The swift end did not come, though, and the man before him cried out in agony. Benvolio looked up in surprise just as he fell. Rosaline stood behind him, a long blade trembling in her hand. Seeing her before him, defiant, alive, the fight abruptly dissipated from his body and left him wavering once more. Rosaline seemed to notice this, and dropped her weapon to catch him by the elbows. "Benvolio?" She eased him to the ground, cradling him against her. "You need a doctor."

A hollow and weak laugh broke from his chest. "I am not sure there is time, dear Rosaline. You are safe, that is what matters." Her silence registered in his tired mind, and Benvolio looked up to see her staring down at him with fresh tears sliding down her face. He reached up to brush them away with his thumb, and was filled with a resigned sadness. "I believe that...we would have been happy together, given time," he whispered.

"Though the world may not see it, you are a good, kind soul, Benvolio Montague. I do not believe, however, that this is where our journey will end." Her fingers stroked his beard tenderly, and she leaned closer to him. "I have seen the might of your stubborn will...use it now. I need to go and get help, but I need you to fight. Fight for me, for us...stay alive. Your duty to protect me is not yet complete."

It was an underhanded move, but one that showed him just how worried she was for him. He himself had not understood until the attack just how much he had committed to protecting his betrothed...that while there was still breath in his body, he would fight to ensure her safety. Physical or otherwise.

It was that last plea that kept him clinging to consciousness, despite the waves of agony radiating from his back and the darkness threatening to drag him under, until Rosaline returned with two others. He did not have enough awareness to determine how long she'd been gone, nor to identify the newcomers, and once they jostled him even the slightest, he lost the feeble grip he had on reality and slipped away to the soft murmur of Rosaline's voice.