A/N; I'd like to start this Author's Note by giving a quick shout out to all my readers and reviewers and to that little dinosaur in the corner… haha, pshhhh…

ANYWAY, here's…

Drum roll please?

-coughsplatdie-

…?

Drum roll, maybe?

-splatdiecough-

Druuuummmm….

Neverminddddd. ;P

Just enjoy! ^^

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More years passed, adding more time to the experience that the two elves had on the earth. They lived in a measure of simplicity, and neither of them had any complaints to it. Both Arya and Faolin had already tapped in to the inner mind, gaining the ability to control flows of magic. Arya, more focused at the task than Faolin, excelled at a rapid pace, although Faolin himself managed to maintain a decent grasp.

While sheltered in the metaphorical bubble from the rest of the world that Du Weldenvarden was, Arya found herself longing to see the area outside of the forest belonging to the elves. She voiced these opinions to Faolin, and a sense of delight fluttered in her heart when he found that he agreed with her.

There had been one time, when she was younger than her now present fifteen years, when Arya had heard murmurings and whispers about something that concerned the Dragon Riders—Shur'tugal. Back then, Arya had paid no attention to any of it. Now as she was becoming more strong headed, she recalled these thoughts and attempted to pursue them even further.

"Faolin, do you know anything about the Shur'tugal?" she questioned the male elf one day, peering at him intently from a face framed with her dark locks of hair. Curiosity burned within her mind, and she made her desire for her questions to be answered quite clear—Faolin saw it quite easily as he turned to fix his gaze on the female elf.

"I've been told bits and pieces of the story," he said slowly, "and I've managed to piece some of it together…" He sat down gracefully on the ground, patting the area next to him as a gesture for Arya to join him before he continued. "From what I've been told, the Dragon Riders… well, they are—well, were­—humans and elves who bore a special connection with a certain dragon. So special was their connection, that the dragon would die if their Rider died." He paused here, making sure that Arya was understood all of this.

"The year you were born was a year full of turmoil, although both you and I don't remember much about it, you being just a newborn baby, and me just being a youngling of three years," Faolin continued. "But troubles were brewing, and the Riders were betrayed by Galbatorix, a former Rider who went mad from the loss of his dragon. He, indeed, tried to secure another dragon for himself by honorable means—but to no avail, as the Council of Elders who he consulted disagreed with his reasoning. Bitter and angry, Galbatorix set to planning the fall of those he hated.

"He took control of yet another Rider. Morzan." At this point, Faolin was all but seething with fury as he told this story. Even Arya had a hint of anger flashing through her eyes, though she remained quiet as he resumed telling the story. "Together, they brought the other Riders at their mercy. Those who refused to join his forces immediately found themselves a life of torture, then death. To those who did join him, however… together, they all numbered thirteen—an unlucky number, you could say. Together, these thirteen grew in power, taking the name of The Forsworn for their title.

At this point, there were only just so many Riders left. The Forsworn, with their combined power, took the remaining Riders down, which, despite the large number of the Forsworn, was quite a feat, as the Riders were no weak fools. Still, the Forsworn prevailed, and…" Faolin paused here, trying to gather his thoughts in order to come up with a proper ending. His face was downcast, a rueful look spreading across it quickly.

"…And, the rest is history," Arya murmured softly, looking attentively at Faolin. She looked completely composed; the only thing that betrayed her emotion was the slight tremor that could be detected in her voice if one listened very closely.

"Aye, and," Faolin remarked, "the Forsworn still live on to this day."

A mixture of emotions made their presence known in Arya's mind as she wrestled with what to think. There were obviously the evident feelings of compassion for the fallen Riders, as well as sadness, but there was also a feeling of irritation and frustration that her mother had never told her any of this before. All this time I could've been doing something; I could've been educated about the rest of Alagaesia… But no! I've been sitting here, lounging away in the sun like… like… well, like something lazy and no good!

"Why didn't my mother tell me about any of this?" Arya asked. "Can she not trust me? Does she think that I am unfit to possess such knowledge? That I am too young?" Her eyes narrowed here as her voice rose in tone, then fell as she regained her composure once more.

Faolin didn't respond, as he didn't quite know what to say. Instead, he let nature take its course in soothing Arya. The two were currently seated at the edge of a small stream, dangling their toes in the gentle rush of lukewarm water. Trees, as always, were the bringers of shade and of fragrant scents.

The two sat in silence for a few moments longer; Faolin sitting in contemplation while Arya fumed to herself. When Arya had finally had enough of judging the situation, she exhaled deeply in the form of a sigh. Running her fingers through her hair in a bemused way that suggested at a habit, she encircled her arms around her knees, hugging them to her chest.

"Faolin?"

"Yes?"

"Can we go on another run?"

"Yes."

It took this very simple exchange for both of them to stand up and to begin speed up their pace in unison. Wordlessly, their hands met, and they held on lightly.

The day was another clear day, with the sunlight streaming in freely. The mood between them lightened considerably as Arya gradually forgot about the disappointment she felt at her mother for not telling her about the Fall of the Riders, although Faolin knew that the subject would most likely come back in to play again. For now, however the elf was content to run alongside Arya.

In the middle of a small clearing, Faolin abruptly stopped. Arya, however, kept on running. Before she had gone a few paces more, however, Faolin grinned and, using Arya's hand as a leverage point, picked her up and spun her around in the air twice before returning her back to the ground. All the while, Arya's bell-like peals of laughter rang generously, with no restraint whatsoever.

The female elf twirled around in the tall grass that made up the clearing, stopping every once in a while to touch a tree, or to bend down to try to capture the scent of a bloom. Faolin watched with a sense of amusement as the princess danced back to him, glad that she was out of her annoyed state.

"Faolin?" Arya asked, abruptly sobering down immediately from her happiness-drunken state.

Faolin, surprised at the unexpected change, simply blinked down at her.

"Faolin, do you ever think about love?"

This question, just like Arya's sudden mood swing, threw Faolin off balance. He stared at Arya, completely bewildered. The question was just so out of the blue… what was he supposed to answer? Was it a rhetorical question? Searching the depths of Arya's eyes, he saw that, no, there was no teasing voice to this inquiry at all… just a hunger for an answer.

"I—I don't really know," was his stammered out reply. "It just seems kind of… weird."

Arya took a step closer to him, and Faolin breathed the scent of crushed pine needles. It was a sweet, spicy smell that usually brought a smile to his face. In this case, however… he wasn't exactly sure what to think.

"But do you ever think about it?" Arya asked, ever persistent in her pursuit for him to answer. For a moment, Arya had begun to close the gap between them, and it looked for a fleeting minute that she had been about to kiss him, but she took a sudden large step away from him, separating them. What am I saying? She asked herself, confused. Looking back at Faolin, she began to apologize. "I—I… My apologies, Faolin. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable as a result of my inquiries," she murmured, casting her eyes downward.

"Uncomfortable?" Faolin muttered darkly, averting his eyes from Arya as a sense of exasperation unfolded in his mind. "That was utter madness what you just uttered right now!" he snapped, startling both him and Arya at the harsh tone in his voice.

Arya tried to catch his eye, but failed. "I'm sorry, Faolin," she said, her voice barely audible, as it was at a tone just hardly above a whisper. "But there have been some… feelings I've felt for you lately that I'm unsure about…"

"Feelings?" Faolin asked with an arched eyebrow. "Feelings are classified in to joy and anger and fear, with certain levels and measures of each. That is the basic and most true definition, so let us simply leave it to that!"

"But—I—"

"No more!" Faolin's voice boomed, and, once more, he was stunned at how ruthless he was being. Arya is your princess; therefore she has a higher ranking than you. Remember that! "Whatever feelings you may be feeling, princess, I suggest you keep them to yourself and don't trouble anybody else with them!" With that, he stalked off, leaving Arya to stand in her misery and confusion.

As she watched Faolin's retreating figure, thoughts began to plague Arya. Is he right? Did I let my emotions take too much control over me? Do I do that often? Is that why my mother doesn't come and visit me often?

More and more of these thoughts piled up on one another. Tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to come out, but she kept them in. It was confusing—one moment, Faolin had been laughing with her, the next, when she mentioned her feelings, he rashly proclaimed that he wanted nothing to do with her emotions.

Arya was completely unsure on how she should further act. Should she go rush after Faolin and apologize profusely? Or should she leave him to think over his actions, expecting him to come back to her instead?

At this point, a certain resolution had reached its way in Arya's mind. From now on, she would learn from her lessons, even if they did not involve memorization or facts from a book. From now on, she would guard her heart well. From now on, she would not let anyone else know how she felt about him or her unless they had to know. From now on, she would change her demeanor.

From now on, Arya Svit-kona would no longer share her feelings with the world.