Disclaimer: I do not own the HOV series or anything. I am poor.

The soft chiming of bells was the only thing that Stefany heard as she ran along the grass in Companion's Field. She was late by at least a candlemark and so she took the obvious shortcut, though she still had enough sense to not destroy anything that might make the Companions mad and stop her from using said shortcut.

Her chin-length brown hair was being tossed everywhere by the last of the winter winds, moving in front of her brown eyes every once and awhile.

She crossed a small brook, and then placed her foot on a piece of wood to cross the next one, only to slip and land in the cold spring thaw up to her ankle. She cursed under her breath and hiked up her blew pants, somewhat glad that they were not skirts, though cursing it at the same time. Skirts were easier to hold up when running, as the trews, as well as the jacket she held in her hand proved, but the gains outweighed any losses. For one, trews would allow her weapon's practice, and tree-climbing, and even a bit of riding with the regular horses down in the palace stables. Skirts never would. She placed one hand on the fence as she came up to it and jumped over it, landing perfectly to continue running. She wouldn't have had to run home every night if her mother had allowed her to stay at the palace grounds.

Unfortunately, that was out of the question.

She had finally convinced her mother to allow her to. In fact, if her mother hadn't just happened to pass by that same night in Westgate, and decided to take in the 'Orphan' because the Orphan had reminded her so much like Stefany herself... Stefany smiled. She could still hear her mother's scolding and her sister's gasps about how she had ruined their chances at marriage. How else was she supposed to get spending money? Sure, there was a stipend, but that didn't pay for the bribes to keep people off her back, let alone save any for herself.

She dismissed the thought as she waved to the Guard, then passed the next level and waved to those guards. She had made a very convincing beggar girl, her plain brown hair frizzy and in her face, large brown eyes with the tiniest hint of green in them. That had been six years ago, though, and now that she was seventeen, well…

She wouldn't be caught dead there at night, because she knew what would happen. She wasn't particularly pretty, but she was clean and passable, and that would be enough for anyone down there. She shivered slightly more from the idea than from the very slight chill in the air. She was lucky to have survived untouched as it was.

Her coat still clutched in one hand and her own notes in another, Stefany passed another gate. This time, she was in a worse area of town. Her house was a few miles from the outer-most wall, but weapon's training and all of the running in previous years had given her stamina, something that allowed her to run the whole way home, only stopping twice.

The first stop was 'The Broken Arms.' It didn't have the best reputation, but it was somewhat honest. She slipped in the back door and changed immediately into a skirt and tunic that was there waiting for her. She didn't do much other than wash dishes and sometimes wait on people, but it was enough for her to pay her bribes. The cook also promised to beat up anyone who wasn't paying her respect. The tunic was a worn brown colour that only made her skin seem a trifle red, and the skirt was as clean black, that only made her seem pale. The persona that the patrons associated with the outfit was a slow young thing that was beyond reach. Only one man had ever tried to take advantage of her in the five years that she'd been working there, and he had left with arms like the sign, bending in four places.

A loose belt was attached under the skirt, one that all the girls wore. It held a place for three knives that they all knew how to use when they wanted to, and a small vial. Hers was filled with vanilla extract, of all things, rather than beer. Stefany had filled it herself, much to the other girls' amazement, and claimed that she liked the smell better.

Tonight it was raining hard, and all that Stefany could do was work, her mind on the task of keeping all of the plates from falling. She did notice, however, a look of concern from one of the sword sellers, as she called them, the people who sold the use of their swords to those who could pay the highest price. The look was something she got quite often, given the good acting of a youngster she was giving. They mostly thought that she was too young to be in a place like this, twelve years old, at most.

She ensured that they thought of her as young by slouching and wearing old tunics that were far too loose. He other girls, Gabby, Maria and Tanya, all wore clothing that was way to tight, trying to make themselves look older than seventeen. Eighteen was the legal age to help customers with 'personal problems' and 'itches that only women can scratch'.

Stefany finished on time, as always, and kept the clothes. She would return on her way in the morning and help clean up before changing and returning to the Collegium for her first morning class. They washed her clothes for her twice a week, saving her mother the knowledge that her girl was wearing pants.

Her next stop was dinner, a small church just a few houses away from the tavern. She helped them at holidays, and they always welcomed her. Then there was the half-a-candlemark sprint home in the near-dark and 'forgetting' to tell her mom where she was working. She found it easier to simply pretend she stayed at the collegium to study.

Fortunately, with spring came lighter days, and she wouldn't have to run so much in the dark. She got home in time to help her mother with the dishes before heading up to the room she shared with her sister to do her homework.

"I do not know why you would want to study more than you have to," her older sister Cadra remarked, her hands busy with embroidery. She was only a year older, her long, almost-black hair braided ornately. Her hazel eyes were watching Stefany intently.

"I wish to be better educated than most," Stefany replied evenly in the same proper speech that their mother had drilled into all four of them. She was trying to wrap her head around the more difficult of the arithmetic problems, but she just couldn't get it. Something about imaginary numbers and algebra.

"It shan't do any good, any ways, for no husband will let his wife read." That was her younger sister, Hoya, small, chestnut hair, green eyes. Her oldest sister was off and married, with three children of her own.

"Meybee I don' wa' merry," Stefany said under her breath, sinking back into the habit of speech form the tavern. It rolled off her tongue much easier and she enjoyed the silence as her sisters tried to figure out what she had said. They probably wouldn't, so that gave her ample time to give up on the arithmetic question and turn in for the night.

The next morning rose bright and early, too early by Stefany's standards. She stopped off at a stream to wash on her way into the city, more unflattering clothes on her slight frame. A bite to eat at the Church and half of a candlemark of work at the Broken Arm's before she felt even slightly awake, and she trudged up to the Collegium and her morning chore of helping Mero in the kitchen.

She was the earliest one, and the only one, who came at that time in the morning. She and Mero were always comparing ideas for new delicacies, and the only time either of them had a bit to spare was then, while she helped him work out menus. They were placed in a second pantry right before Stefany headed off to Geography, her first class that day and her arch nemesis, next to arithmetic. She just simply found it boring. She had even thought of not taking it at all, but she did want to know more about the world she was living in, and so she suffered through it.

There were none of her year-mates in her first class, though she didn't tend to like them anyways. They were usually rich snobs, one in ten being a serious student and therefore not interested in talking. She much preferred the rust clothed students, the Bards and Minstrels. They loved her imitations and tales, and they happily listened when she spoke. They also talked to her, telling her tales of fright and tales of valor, and ones so funny that her eyes danced with tears and she clutched her sides trying to breathe. She hadn't heard any of them sing, though, even if they were all friends.

After Geography was lunch. Stefany grabbed a nice, fresh apple from Mero and took it to the garden, climbing her favorite tree and sitting comfortably in it. It had, at one point, a great limb chopped off of it, so there was a stump of a branch that came out about a foot and a half. This arrangement allowed Stefany to sit with her back against the trunk of the tree and her bum on the stump of the branch, her knees bent and her feet resting on the end. She was relaxed and content in this position, as evidenced by the fact that she fell asleep as soon as she had finished her apple.

Her legs dropped down towards the ground, on either side of the stump, and her whole body edged more and more towards the end before her head was barely resting against the trunk. She had been holding closed a white woolen coat, but it slipped open as her hand slid to hang over the ground below. Next, her whole body began to slide off to the side, plummeting her body towards the ground, two stories below. She woke up as she started to fall, her mind in a panic.

She only started breathing again when somebody caught her in their arms. She looked up to see a somewhat familiar boy, his uniform a white color.

"You!" He said. Stefany looked at him for a moment before she realized where she knew him from.

"What are you doing in blues?" The boy asked.

"What am I doing in blues? What are you doing in whites?" Stefany retorted. She had seen this boy before, though not in a while. Twice while she had been a 'beggar' and once when she had been at the Broken Arms.

"I'm a Herald now." He replied, his eyes scanning over her. She squinted at him, about to say something, and then turned as she heard her friends coming up the path. Sure enough, they soon turned the corner, their faces still with a few crumbs on them. They stopped when they saw her in the herald's arms.

"H-herald Skif, sir," Heklern (poor lad, such an unmelodious name for such a musical boy) said. He was with Gen and Erse, and both boys looked as startled as Heklern had. They quickly covered it, and Stefany became quite embarrassed with her predicament. She lowered herself from the Herald's arms and stood on the ground. She then noticed the look that the three boys were wearing, one that promised to pay up on an earlier vow of vengeance over a prank. Stefany didn't hesitate a moment before she hid behind Herald Skif.

"Oh, c'mon out, Stef. We aren't going to do anything," Erse called, laughter clearly in his voice.

"Oh, I'm alright." Stefany chuckled. She knew better than to treat them to a nice clean target like herself. She just hoped that Heraldic whites were washable. She thought about warning the Herald, but the bardic trainees were already throwing three ripe apples. Skif, the Herald, moved slightly and two were stopped in midair with knives and the third flew over his shoulder and hit Stefany, who had been on her tiptoes to peer over him and see what had happened.

She clutched both hands to her nose and tried not to cry. She buckled over and the Heklern raced over, trying to make sure that she was alright, trying to calm her. She shuddered and shook as she cried, right before she...

"Tada!"... stood up with a triumphant smile, not a mark on her face.

"What!" Gen asked. Erse rolled his eyes.

"The Great Actor," he commented, using her nickname, "has graced us with another performance."

Stef smiled and had a thought. Usually around this time, they would break into and old game of theirs, and an audience member would bring a great new level to the game.

"I hath waited here, for..." Stefany prompted. It was an old game. She played the damsel in distress, one of the boys the Villain, another the hero, and they put on a melodramatic performance. They would never laugh, though, only the fourth person breaking down as he watched.

"My princess, I have come to take you away!" Heklern cackled, rubbing his hands (he played the villain well).

"Oh no! Won't somebody save me?" Stefany placed the back of her hand to her forehead and struck a pose. There was a bit of laughter as Gen and Erse decided who would play who. Erse came forward first.

"My Lady, my dear, my Love! My moon, my earth, my soul! I shall save thee from this bile villain!"

He apparently had decided to step up his performance, for he swung his arms about as he spoke, and emotion was evident. Heklern was not about to be upstaged, however. He hauled Stefany onto his shoulder (while she tried not to laugh), and then hid her behind a tree. She let a slight giggle escape as the two boys fought over her and then watched as Heklern won the fight, even though he should have lost. It was Stefany's turn to do something dramatic, something to upstage both boys.

She ran to Erse and cradled his head in her lap, moaning loudly and lamenting their lost love. He took a deep breath, and sang.

Little bluebird,
Little sparrow,
My shining night,
My dawning light,
Love of daytime,
Love of night...

Love me in Haven's
Blessed sight.

Apparently, he had decided to raise the bar by using his Gift. She smiled before Heklern sang.

You're mine
He's gone
Lay down your sorrow
Look t'ward tomorrow
He's gone

He's gone
You're mine
And I'll never let go
Oh no, no, no

It was sinister, and his gift gave her goosebumbs. Well, if it was a musical...

Why?

The first note was high, pure, clean.

Why?

Higher, more emotion, feeling.

Why did you leave me now?

Sorrow surrounding the listeners.

My heart is in pieces,
shattered with the blade of your knife

The word stabbed at them.

Why?
Why?
Head is in turmoil,
drowning in the blood of your life.

Her eyes were closed as she sang, and Erse began to cry silently.

Memories,
Mocking,
flitter by.
Silently,
Despr'tly,
I do cry.

Need me,
Love me,
I don't care.
Leave me not,
I need you here.

She was crying, as were Gen and Heklern. Skif alone seemed unaffected, though he had a strange look on his face.

You,
You,
You are my love.
Fly,
fly,
fly with me...
...now...

Just don't leave me,
To die,
To die...

To die...

She let the last note hang in the air before she sniffed and wiped her eyes. She smiled at the boys who were looking at her thunderstruck. Skif, the Herald, was looking at her with wide eyes.

"Why are you in blues?" He asked, out of nowhere.

"Pardon me?" Stefany asked, more than a little confused.

"Why are you in blues?" He repeated.

"Uhm.. Because I want to learn stuff..." He was giving her an odd look and she trailed off. She knew the answer was weak at best, but what else was she supposed to say? That she felt 'right' at the Collegium studying?

"You should be in reds. You obviously have the Gift and creativity and-"

"WHAT?" Stefany exploded. The boys were all nodding their heads, but it made no sense to her. "What are you talking about? I can't sing! My mom even forbade me to sing here and... oh great goddess, she's going to kill me when she finds out. I should probably go home." She tied up her jacket and was turning to leave when Skif caught her attention.

"Why are you leaving now? You should at least be tested." He had his arms crossed, as if she was too stupid to realize what he had intoned and that she would be groveling at his feet at any moment.

"Tested? My mom will probably never let me set foot on these grounds again!" She advanced a step closer to the Herald, anger very evident, anger at her mother, at him for thinking her so stupid, and even at herself for what she had done. "The one main rule was that I didn't sing! My mom didn't even want me making friends unless it was boys to marry! Do you know how LONG it took me to make her understand that any friends I made were because they were FRIENDS, and not potential husbands? Do you know how much I had to fight to be here in the first place? And now, I'll never be back, because I got carried away and showed off." She screamed under her breath in pure anger and turned on her heel. There were angry tears in her eyes. The herald grabbed her arm and turned her to face him.

"You have to be tested." He explained, still rather confused. She didn't know that her emotions were being projected through her voice, that he was being hit with them like physical blows.

"No, I don't." She was curt, and Skif suddenly bent over and clutched his ears.

"Stop that!" He commanded.

"Stop what! Let go of me!" He had grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder. "Let go!" She was screaming now, and hitting his back with her fists. "LET ME GO!"

Skif's face was turning purple as lines of pain lanced across it. He took a deep breath and held it for a few moments before letting it go. He WOULD take her to be tested.