A/N; Happy turkey day to all! :) Give lots of thanks! ^^

I, as a part of my thanks, give another shout out to all my reviewers whose reviews continue to psych me to type more. ^^

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At some point, Arya knew she must have fallen asleep. Her breathing was calm and deep, though this was unknown to her, as she was lost in the land of dreams. Her mind was filled with images, some pleasant, and others… not so pleasant. As each image fluttered past her subconscious vision, she would give a small reaction, whether it was the corner of her lips turning up slightly or her fist clenching.

A slight skidding noise awoke Arya, and she jolted up, looking around her wildly as she scrambled to mentally capture all her thoughts once more in order to remember everything. She did not have to wait long, for the memories at once began flooding back in to her mind.

Looking around, she acknowledged Glenwing's presence, but also saw that Loraes was standing in front of the two of them, looking rather uncomfortable as he attempted to avert his gaze away.

It is not like that, dear Loraes. Faolin is my lover, not Glenwing, Arya thought to herself as she looked intently at Loraes as if trying to convey her message mentally. Loraes still appeared uncomfortable, however, and Arya knew that he did not quite get it.

Standing up, Arya flashed a slight smile toward the boy, and he reluctantly looked at her. "My lady," the boy began, pausing for a moment to brush a way a strand of his shaggy brown hair. "Deynor requests you to return."

Arya stiffened at this appeal. "But Mia…" Arya trailed off here, and Glenwing gave her a curious glance. She shook her head in response, and waited for Loraes to answer.

"That is partially the reason why Deynor requests your presence, my lady," Loraes replied respectfully. He looked thoughtful for a minute and then added softly, "Please go, lady. Deynor truly did look like he wanted to say something to you."

Arya peered at Loraes carefully, unsure whether to trust the boy's judgment or not. In the end, she gave a resigned sigh and waved him on forward. "Go on, then," she told him, then set to follow him. A sudden thought entered the elf's mind, and she looked over her shoulder for Glenwing—only to discover that the elf had already disappeared.

Furrowing her brow at this, Arya gave a slight shrug and simply turned to follow Loraes. The boy was moving at a reasonably fast pace, though not as quick as before.

"Loraes," Arya suddenly began, continuing to follow him through a maze of halls which Arya made yet another mental note to study. "What happened after I… left?"

Loraes seemed to mull these words over for a few moments. "Nothing much, my lady," he answered, though Arya felt as if this was not a complete answer.

Silence lapsed between the two, and Arya began to feel relatively frustrated that Loraes was not saying much. Without meaning to, her mental consciousness stretched out and probed his lightly. When she discovered what she was doing, she held back—then went back to attempting to accomplish it. Maybe she could figure out something from Loraes.

She stopped when she hit a thought of his. Exhaling deeply in the form of a sigh, she addressed the boy once again. "Loraes, you do not have to treat me like a lady—you do not have to worry about repeating events to me. It is better that they are gruesome then untruthful."

A look of confusion crossed the boy's face, and Arya realized that she had made a mistake in confronting the boy so boldly, as he had no idea that she had just been in the shallow depths of his mind. Still, Loraes was good at not asking questions, and instead compiled to Arya's wishes after a little while more of contemplation.

"Mia had half mind to chase after you when you left, but she was held back by Deynor—though not before she, in her rage, turned and slapped him…" Loraes trailed off here, then he returned to speaking. "…Quite hard, if I may add."

Arya winced at the prospect of frail, petite Mia summoning up the ability to hit someone—especially the leader of the Varden. She has more inside of her than she lets on.

"Deynor is good about situations like that, however… he managed to keep his control, and attempted to speak with Mia. He reasoned with her to figure out whom she truly was mad at. Who truly deserved the wrath of all of this."

Arya waited, biting her lip.

"And Mia… well, she quieted down a little, but when someone mentioned burying Silas—foolish person indeed—she lost it once more. Began muttering and screaming and crying about how she couldn't live without her Silas… and she grabbed a dagger out of the folds of her dress since most of the women here have that as a security measure, and, well…"

When Loraes once more trailed off here, Arya felt the urge to scream with impatience. Why did he leave her hanging like this? Surely he didn't need to treat her like another lady—after all, he lived in the Varden where many women who didn't need pampering surrounded him. Why should she be any different?

At this point, Arya realized that she was holding her breath. Closing her eyes and simply following the boy's footsteps, she coaxed herself in to releasing some of her tension—enough so that she could at least breath in and out easily again.

"She made a move to hurt herself, but Brom noticed at the last second and jumped forward to knock the blade out of her hand. He succeeded, but not entirely when it comes to the measure of safety—by accident he managed to cut his hand considerably well. And that was when they sent me to get you. By now, they probably have Mia somewhere where she cannot cause any damage."

Arya was surprised at the amount of ease Loraes seemed to be in as he delivered all of this news to her. A boy of… ten can deliver this news to me with a calm face, and I cannot even listen to it without cringing?, Arya thought to herself darkly. You have some work to do, Arya.

Suddenly, the factor of Loraes's age hit Arya like a resounding slap. "Loraes… you said yesterday that you would be eleven the next day…" she murmured, her voice trembling slightly.

Loraes glanced over his shoulder. "Yes," he answered simply, his look on his face demonstrating his confusion at why Arya suddenly seemed to be choked up about this fact.

"And today, you are eleven, are you not?"

"Yes."

Eleven years old. So, so young…

Arya now looked at Loraes with a new pair of eyes. He was certainly a small boy and needed a good deal of physical growth… But already, he was mature beyond his years, for living with the Varden had shown him things a normal boy should not have to see and hear until he was considered a man of at least sixteen, as was human custom.

"I admire you, Loraes," the elf princess murmured, her words nearly inaudible—yet Loraes managed to catch them. When he processed what he had heard, his expression changed from immediate perplexity to a look of bashfulness. Coming from an elf—not to mention an elf princess—this surely was a good deal of praise.

"Thank you, lady," Loraes mumbled, ducking his head even lower to hide his embarrassment. He quickened his pace, most likely eager to get out of this situation. Arya did not take this personally, however, as she was still deeply immersed in her own thoughts.

What kind of world is this, where a young boy just turned twelve can see such hardships up close without having to ask anyone?

"Lady?" Loraes said.

Arya looked up, and saw that they had arrived in the room once again. She gave a mental grimace and stepped inside. Eyes turned on to her, and though she did not want to, she forced herself to meet every single gaze, whether they were menacing or sympathetic or simply unemotional at all.

Unsure of what she was do, the female elf dropped her gaze to where Faolin still lay. She took a hesitant step forward, but then halted when the sound of a cleared throat reached her ears. Looking up, she met Deynor's eyes, which possessed a certain level of unhappiness and frustration.

Arya couldn't blame him.

"Arya…" the leader said, wiping a hand across his brow as a sign of his distress. Otherwise, however, Deynor tried very hard to let no one see how frightened the situation had truly made him.

At once, Arya dropped her gaze to the floor as a sign of how ashamed she was of herself. "I am sorry, Deynor," she whispered. "I did not know she would react like that. If I had known…"

"No, Arya. There was no way you could have known—there was no way any of us could have known," Deynor sighed, though when Arya stole a glance at the man through her lashes, she saw an accusing look flash through his eyes before it was blinked away quickly. "Loves does strange things to people, and I happen to know that Mia was very much in love with Silas before he… entered the void."

"You have my apologies for this casualty," Arya said respectfully. Right now, all she wanted to do was crawl up in to a ball—a cowardly instinct, yes, but she could not truly help it. "And for any others I may cause while I am in service here," she added in a rueful tone.

"It is not your fault," Deynor said, repeating his thought from before, though in different words.

As Arya raised her head to meet Deynor's gaze, she saw that the accusatory look was gone from his eyes, replaced with only sympathy and forgiveness. Though this should have caused major relief to sweep through Arya, it didn't. Instead, it caused her to feel rather… irritated.

She had done him a disservice. She had antagonized someone underneath his leadership, whether she had done it willingly or not. He should be furious with her.

But he wasn't.

He was too understanding—or at least too willing to understand. Where were the harsh words she saw were coming? Turning her eyes to Brom, she saw that the same level of sympathy existed in the man as well.

Cannot at least one of them be infuriated with me? In some ways, that would make me feel better, Arya thought to herself remorsefully.

"May I speak to Mia?" Arya suddenly asked, as the impact of wanting to make everything right suddenly hit her. She saw Deynor's eyes study her warily, and her stomach lurched when he shook his head.

"No, Arya. I think it is best if you leave Mia to herself for today, though I will assure you that I will allow you to speak to her soon," Deynor answered, his face now betraying no emotion.

That's right, Arya. You have caused enough damage for today, a voice sneered in her mind. With much dismay, Arya knew that that was the truth.

"Wait—what? What am I…?"

The sudden voice addition to the room caused Arya to look around wildly. Her eyes rested on the cot, and she saw, with a rush of gratitude and relief, that Faolin was awake. Hurrying over to where he lay, she pressed a cool hand to his brow. "You're alive, Faolin." And you're back with me, where you belong.

Arya was aware of those in the room watching her and Faolin now, but the fact that he was now awake seemed to make everything else melt behind in the distance. It was of no importance now; all she had to focus on was the expanse of Faolin's silvery gray eyes. In some ways, they were what kept her sane, and Arya began to wonder how she had ever managed to find the heart in her to send him away.

Though his presence itself was magical, it was the eyes that Arya had trouble forgetting. It was his eyes that kept her there. That kept her gripping on to reality.