A/N; Agh, I'll be glad for when NaNoWriMo ends and I get to slow down the everyday updates… Ick. x.x;
But, for now… c:
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The sun began its trek downward through the sky. Rose-colored hues blended with the blueness of the sky, and creatures began crawling back in to their nests for another peaceful night of rest.
All of this was unbeknownst to Arya as she escorted back to her room by Brom. Down here, she realized, there were not many places where you could catch a glimpse of the sky. Something in her fell when she acknowledged this fact, but she simply pushed thoughts on it aside, eager to not ruin her experience here.
Instead of taking her down a direct path back to her quarters, Brom led Arya on a small tour of what Arya believed to be only a small section of the resistance inhabitance. She was amazed to see the skill that had prepared this place, especially due to the fact that, as Brom said, it was created with a matter of great haste.
Arya was not so captivated by the design work, however, to miss the sight of passerby making their way down another route. She offered only smiles to all of these humans she saw, but not a single one of them returned her gesture of friendliness. Though her face remained in a smiling position that was difficult for her to maintain, her smile felt wrong and out of place, and certainly not the genuine smile that came upon her face whenever in the presence of someone like Faolin.
Through her false beaming, Arya had to admit that she felt somewhat slighted at the non-existent greeting that the resistance was giving to her. Should she not be a savior to them, considering the fact that she was trying to form ties between the Varden and the elves?
To them, obviously not.
This idea frustrated Arya, and when she came upon the next person, who shot her a glare, she had to try hard to resist the urge to grab that person and shake some sense in to them.
Meanwhile, Brom talked on and on. Sometimes he would talk about the resistance, but other times he would simply talk to fill the silent void that stretched between him and Arya while the elf princess was fuming over how she was being received by the humans. It was at this point that Arya remembered something.
"Brom, you said that there were dwarves living here as well, are there not?" she asked, once more shaking off yet another scowl directed toward her.
Brom did not falter, and swiftly delivered a response. "Yes. They, in fact, crafted the whole of Farthen Dur, and they support the resistance as well. Many dwarves reside here in Tronjheim, as well as in the rest of the Beor Mountains. They live underground, mind you."
Arya found herself puzzled by the dwarves already. "But how can they live without the sun and the sky? The moon and the stars? The trees?" she asked, matching Brom's even pace.
Brom chuckled at this. "Elves are very partial to their scenery, I suppose, even more so than humans." Seeing Arya's look at this statement, Brom quickly added, "But humans like being in a comfortable habitat as well." Arya nodded at this, and Brom proceeded to speak. "Elves are born for the open air space with trees and the sky overhead. Dwarves, however, are accustomed to the ground and the earth, burrowing deep to make their homes."
Arya had nothing to say to that, although she still did not quite understand. Seeing her still bewildered expression, Brom attempted once more to explain. "Dwarves have many straightforward beliefs, and they find it customary to remain living in the ground. They believe and worship their own gods, and find anyone who speaks against their beliefs rather strange."
This answer suited Arya even less. "I understand that dwarves have their beliefs," she began, thinking of how to word what she wanted to say. "But now, you have mystified me. How is it that dwarves can believe in gods? Gods are nothing but a figment of one's imagination, as no one has even seen so much as an apparition of one."
Brom chuckled once again. "You have strong beliefs, Arya," he said and then added in a softer tone, "And I must admit, I admire that quite a bit."
Arya resisted the urge to flush at the praise and gave a nod to show her acknowledgement of Brom's words.
After a few more moments of silence while they walked, Brom halted and when Arya looked up, she saw that they had reached the door to her quarters. "Thank you, Brom," she told him, giving him a nod as she reached out to open her door. She stepped in to the room and was about to close the door, when Brom stuck his foot in to prevent it from shutting.
"Ah, one more thing, Arya. I know that the scornful looks cast upon you during our little venture did not go unnoticed by you. I ask that you not take these glances to heart, and that you know that eventually, those looks will be ones of amazement and wonder," Brom said. With that, he withdrew his foot, ducked his head, and ambled down the hall.
Arya shut the door and she had to admit, she did feel a slight bit better with Brom's words to reassure her.
Looking around her room, Arya saw that a new change of clothes had been laid out for her on the bed, and that an assortment of other outfits were piled next to her bed on the floor. Stepping forward, she picked up the tunic and pair of leggings picked out for her.
Just as she was about to change, a knock came on the door. Still clutching the new clothes, she opened the door slowly. Who she saw on the other side caused a smile to spread across her face.
"Faolin," she murmured softly, reaching out and taking his hand.
Faolin, however, was not quite in the mood for any romantic exchanges just yet. Instead, he invited himself in to Arya's room and looked around. Tilting his head, he looked back at her, still holding her hand.
"So how are you fairing in this nest of humans? And dwarves as well, though I still have not seen one around yet," Faolin remarked, tugging on Arya's hand lightly and drawing her toward him.
"It's all right," Arya responded, trying to sound nonchalant about it. The only issue with this, however, was that Faolin knew her too well to fall for her feigning how she felt.
"Really, Arya? Honestly and truly?" Faolin pressed, tucking his hand under her chin and bringing her head up so as to make her look at him. "You know you can talk to me about anything."
Arya stared in to Faolin's eyes and beheld the innocence and caring in them.
I don't deserve him, she thought to herself cynically. He's too good for me.
"Faolin," Arya murmured, pulling away from him. "The humans here are not sympathetic toward the elves and… I worry for your safety."
"My safety?" Faolin asked, his tone hinting to a more incredulous sound. "My safety is nothing when it comes to protecting you, Arya Drottingu. You know that. As the next heir to the throne, you are too precious and valuable to lose."
Arya refused to take this as an argument. It was at this moment when she decided what she was going to do.
"Faolin," she began, raising her head and looking him directly in the eye. "It is for your own well-being that I give you this request of mine."
Faolin kept his gaze fixed on her intently, and Arya wanted nothing more than to forget about what she was going—and what she had—to say.
"Though I will sorely miss you, Faolin, I dismiss you from my service. You are no longer bound to having to protect me, meaning that it is best you return back to Du Weldenvarden now." Each word was an utterance of pure torture to Arya; with every single syllable she said, she wanted to simply throw down the gauntlet and renounce all she had just voiced.
But she couldn't. Not for Faolin's sake, whether he knew it or not.
"But why? What about Glenwing?" Faolin demanded, stepping off of the bed and facing Arya, staring at her with his penetrating gaze. Eventually, Arya had to look away.
"For your safety. Glenwing can take care of himself." was the only response that Arya managed to get out. Her voice did not quiver, and she once more calmed her nerves enough to appear strong. She did not quite know, however, that it was this exact action that made Faolin want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her firmly to try to get her to understand.
"My safety!" Faolin cried out. "Back to all of this business of safety! Arya Drottingu, you have known me for many years now. I can take care of myself, and while I take your concern to heart, I believe that I can remain alive for another day. Is there some meaning behind your words that I am supposed to discern the truth from?"
Is there? Arya thought to herself, and she felt as if things were crashing down all around her.
She did not know.
Faolin took Arya's prolonged silence as a sign of hesitation to answer, therefore a hesitation in giving him the answers he wanted. "If you loved me, you wouldn't be telling me to go back," he whispered, gray eyes still trained upon Arya. "So now, I ask you. Do you, Arya Drottingu, love me?"
Yes.
With the intensity of the moment, Arya saw that Faolin did not ask this question in the Ancient Language, which was for the better, as she knew that she could not lie if forced to speak in that tongue. Though she could respond with any words with utter ease in the human language, it still pained Arya to deliver the only answer she knew would hopefully persuade Faolin to leave her and the danger she had already put themselves in to.
"No," Arya answered, and the anguish that spread across Faolin's face tore at her heart.
Faolin seemed to shake at the impact of her single worded rejection of him. The male elf seemed to struggle to regulate his breath. Though he barely contained himself, Faolin managed to restrain his words. "Then, Arya Drottingu," Faolin stated icily as he reverted back to the Ancient Language, emphasizing Arya's title with a sense of frustration. "I will speak to Brom to make arrangements in order to fulfill your request."
"Faolin, I—"
"What ever you have to say, Arya, I will listen to, as is my duty. But as of now, I must go speak to Brom. Just tell me one thing."
Anything, Faolin, for you deserve it.
"Does your heart belong to someone?" he asked, eyeing her warily as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
What could she say to that? He was still speaking in the Ancient Language, and he obviously wanted for her to answer in the same tongue. She knew that she could give Faolin a great deal more pain if she spoke in the Ancient Language, but she did not know any other excuses she could make.
"Yes, Faolin. My heart does belong to someone else."
"Very well," Faolin responded, his voice turning even colder as he turned his back and left the room, leaving Arya to feel utterly defeated. Despite the fact that she had succeeded, for the most part, in protecting him, she still felt as if she were doing the wrong thing.
With that, Arya shut her door and locked it once more. Moving to her window seat, she leaned her head against the cool glass and closed her eyes. Tears pricked gently behind her eyelids, but she refused to cry, even though she was not in the presence of anyone else.