A/N; Peace, everybody. ;D Are you ready for the second chapter? Heehee. C:
I must thank all my lovely reviewers—they make me feel special and wanted, as well as warm and fuzzy inside. Like a peach! 8)
Uhhhh.
Hold on…
o.o
NEVERMIND THEN—JUST READ.
8D
The days passed by at a languid pace, much too slowly for Islanzadí's taste. Day in, day out, she did the same thing over and over again. In truth, her life had always been a repetition like this, but she hadn't ever realized it until now.
Although she had just given birth to a child, the queen still had duties that bore down on her. Even though her subjects tried to give her a break by attempting to solve their little problems on their own, there were still pressing matters that had to be brought to her attention no matter what.
Day in, day out.
It wore the queen's patience out, although she never complained once. She simply bit her lip, handed Arya over to a trusted nursemaid, and dove right in to a different assortment of issues that seemed to trip over one another presenting themselves to her.
Day one, day two.
Physically, Islanzadí was tired, yes, but she was recovering quickly. Mentally, however… well, she faced certain difficulties, as troubles plagued her morning and night. These troubles ranged in many forms, but they mostly centered around one elf: Arya. Islanzadí was never quite sure what to do with her daughter. Instead, she just allowed Arya to be taken care of by her servants and whatnot. It was a harsh way to grow up, yes, but Islanzadí could see no alternative, as Arya would most likely receive better care—in terms of affection, at the very least—in their hands. It pained the queen to admit it, but it was true.
Occasionally, Arya would receive visits from her mother. They were never very tender, and could even be described as rather uncomfortable for both of them. The elves noticed the bond between mother and child breaking quickly, but none dared to voice their opinions aloud, for fear of facing Islanzadí's wrath.
Day three, day eight.
Time ticked by, one second at a time. One minute at time. One hour, two hours, three, and then four…
One year, two years, nine years…
The once relatively frequent visits soon died down to simply a few words of conversation for a few moments during rare occurrences, although Arya herself didn't feel any worse for it. Another elf child, two years older than her, served as her playmate—and he served her well, at that.
While her mother was tending to business, Arya was often out and about with this playmate. He was two years older than her, making him eleven.
The two were inseparable, which was understandable, as there weren't any other elf children close to their age. Together, they joined forces, unleashing their 'power' through fantasies and wonders conjured up brilliantly by the imagination. Faolin, from the beginning, proved himself to be a master storyteller, and he and Arya would oftentimes sit beneath a splash of shade, with the sound of him weaving his stories lulling them both in to a serene state.
At the moment, the two were laying in a meadow colored eagerly with the assortment of flowers that sprang up from the depths of the moist soil. The sun shone down from overhead, illuminating the area with its golden light. A breeze swept by lazily, faintly blowing a few petals off fragrant blooms that encased the open clearing.
"Faolin?" a soft voice ventured, coming from Arya.
"Mmm?" was the casual response coming from the male elf, evidently named Faolin.
"Do you know anything about humans?"
"Of course I do. Don't you?"
"Yes," Arya quickly lied, not wanting to make it seem as if she were ignorant of such matters. After all, if she inherited the throne, she had to know these things in order to act as a good sovereign.
"Then you'll know that with humans, the females are considered weak and incapable of doing labor and that the they are basically given the simple tasks of cooking and cleaning and caring for the children… Oh, what a bore…" Faolin trailed off here, his voice hinting at a teasing tone as he turned his head to look at Arya. A look of amusement crossed his expression when he saw her give a start when she heard his fact about humans.
"They—what? Why?" Arya demanded, then faltered for a moment. If she knew about humans, she wouldn't be stuttering right now. "I mean… of course," she remarked, attempting to cover up her earlier outburst. Then, deciding to continue on and to change the subject before she made a fool of herself anymore, she observed, "But they're humans. We're elves, meaning that basically I can do anything that you can do."
"We'll see about that," Faolin said, a grin spreading its way across his face as he sat up. Getting to his feet, he paused momentarily to lean down and offer a hand to Arya. The few words he had just said, however, had sparked something within her, making her determined to do things without his help. She simply ignored his hand and got up, laughter dancing in her eyes.
Suddenly, Faolin darted forward, running quickly. "Catch me if you can!" he called over his shoulder in a teasing tone. Arya, already sensing the point of what she was supposed to do, sped after him.
The two ran across the meadow and then changed their course in to the forest. The trees there were tall, taking the sunlight that managed to penetrate the leaves and using it to throw shadows everywhere. If she hadn't been with Faolin, Arya admitted to herself that she might have been a little scared.
They ran for a while, covering a large part of Du Weldenvarden. Everywhere they went, they could be heard, from their footsteps treading lightly on the ground, to the laughter that erupted from both of them. Even Arya had to smile at the way her bell-like laughter tinkled and somehow harmonized with Faolin's booming laugh that seemed to somehow possess some level of delicacy to it.
Eventually, Arya caught up with Faolin, and sliding a hand in to his, they ran side by side—not as lovers, as both of them thought the idea absolutely repulsive, but as friends. Elves milling about the forest instantaneously had a smile brightening their faces when they saw their princess with her playmate running by. They called out various greetings and titles after the two, beckoning for them to stop and enjoy some refreshment, but the two declined politely—or as politely as you could while running at a breakneck pace.
Faolin and Arya continued to run for a while, until they were both panting with exhaustion. Both of their faces were flushed, and Faolin flopped down on to the ground, while Arya preferred a more dignified way of lying down. Once they had both made themselves comfortable on the grassy area, they looked up at the sky through the large nest of branches that seemed to spread to everywhere. While still holding hands in a friendly manner, the two fell asleep.
That was how Islanzadí saw her daughter and her daughter's playmate when she by accident stumbled upon the two when going for a walk to clear her head. Surprise was obvious in her face, but then turned to a kinder look. The scene was one that nearly melted her heart.
Arya's raven black hair was draped on the ground, some of it resting on Faolin's broad and relatively well-muscled shoulder. Her head was inclined towards his shoulder as well, almost leaning on it. Faolin's large frame curved slightly toward Arya's more petite one, making Islanzadí's smile widen even more.
As if knowing that someone was watching, Arya stirred, making Faolin also awaken. Faolin was first to acknowledge the queen's presence; he quickly let go of Arya's hand and leapt up, addressing Arya's mother formally while Arya simply watched. In truth, she knew that she should also have said something formal to her mother, but her mother didn't particularly react to it, so the princess reckoned that it was all right.
After returning Faolin's hastily made salutations, the queen surveyed the two together in the peaceful surroundings. "You two would make a good pair on the throne, I believe," she stated in a light tone before walking off in to the forest. As Islanzadí walked off, she pondered over the truthfulness in her words. In the deepest meaning, it was true. Arya and Faolin balanced each other out—Arya with her quietness and seriousness was equally matched with Faolin's good-natured, knee-slapping humor. Both were considerably attractive, even at their young state—Faolin and his blond hair bordering a rather unusual silver tinge with his large gray eyes and light skin seemed to go along as a compliment with Arya's dark hair, green eyes, and fair complexion. These reasons brought a rather mysterious looking smile to Islanzadí's face as she continued her walk.
Arya and Faolin, however, didn't quite get this. The two exchanged a glance, watching until the queen disappeared in to the thickness of the trees before daring to say a word.
"What do you think she meant by that?" Faolin mused, turning his gaze back to Arya.
In return, he simply got a shrug, as Arya was just as confused as he was. Even though Islanzadí was her mother, that didn't exactly mean that Arya understood her any better than Faolin—or any other elf, for that matter—did.
"Well, I guess that will eventually come back to bite us later as most things will, but I suppose we can just forget about it for now," Faolin declared with a nod, sitting down on a tree stump. In a matter of moments, the thought was gone from his mind, and he let the silence envelop him. He knew that he would eventually have to have a conversation started, as he didn't exactly like being quiet when there was someone else who he could converse with. At the present moment, however, thoughts of swords clashing and horses rearing during battle swirled in his mind—a fantasy that he often nurtured in his mind, for Faolin was of the daring and bold kind. A daydreaming look engulfed Faolin's face, which wasn't unusual, as he was always dreaming about gallivanting about on his pure white horse, saving lives and accomplishing good deeds…
Arya, however, stored what her mother had said in her mind, for some type of curiosity within her had been unlocked, longing to be satisfied with an explanation. It was a strangely new prospect, this. Tilting her head, she picked a few blades of grass and began weaving them in to an intricate pattern. It was a task that completely captivated her mind and her concentration, but something within her began to drift away from the task at hand and began to wonder once again at her mother's words.
A pair… Arya winced slightly as she realized that her mother had just addressed the two of them as a pair—which meant to objects together. A pair. Just like a pair of shoes. This reference seemed rather comical to Arya, and she bit her lip in order to prevent a giggle from sounding, as when she looked at Faolin, she could see that he was thinking deeply about something. She longed to ask him what, but from past experience, she knew that it was no good to try to awaken the male elf from his reflections.
Willingly or not, a soft tune issued from Arya's throat. It was a pleasant melody, with little quirks and jumps that made it seem rather… playful. The mirth she gained from this was rather surprising. Suddenly, a peal of laughter rang out in the air, and it took a while for her to realize that it had come from her.
Faolin had been jolted from his thoughts, and his face entered a hardened state as he heard laughter—unmistakably coming from Arya. Was she laughing at him? His eyes briefly skirted over her, and when he realized that she wasn't ridiculing him, he relaxed.
A little melody reached his ears, and almost out of instinct, he answered with a harmony to it. As the sun began setting and spreading pastel colors across the sky, Faolin and Arya proceeded to celebrate the coming of the night with a continuation of their duet.