A/N; Nothing much to put here, haha… I'm slowly perishing as I attempt to type, type, and type some more… Blah…
Hey, this is chapter twenty. O: I certainly have come a long way in less than a month, no? c;
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"Arya, why did you tell him that it was your wish for him to leave?"
"I do not wish to speak about it, Brom."
"You must, for I do not know how to answer him. I do not know how to explain to him, as I do not know anything about your mind."
Arya sighed with exasperation as she whirled around to face Brom in his entirety. "He is too good for me, Brom. He deserves someone better; someone who is fit for him."
"But you are a princess, Arya. Certainly that is reward enough for any elf?" Brom asked.
Arya looked at Brom and gave another sigh of vexation. "Is that all anyone ever thinks of? The fact that I am a princess? Just because I carry a high standing among the elves does not necessarily mean that I am automatically fit to give my heart to someone and the other way around. Simply… simply take a look at my mother!"
Brom raised an eyebrow at this statement, and Arya immediately wished that she could take it back. Instead of questioning her on her words, however, Brom let it go—a fact that Arya was incredibly grateful for.
"Arya, I have seen the way in which Faolin looks at you. The way he speaks to you and the way he acts around you when you are near. You mean something to him. Something that even I cannot quite name, but I know that he cares for you a great deal—more so than any other will ever care for you," Brom told her, and from the way he spoke, Arya could tell that he believed his words were the absolute truth.
"And I care for him as well," Arya added to Brom's contemplations. She paused here before she opened her mouth to speak again. "Yet… that does not matter, does it?"
"Of course it matters!" Brom snapped, surprising Arya. "It matters more than you can believe! The idea of caring is the very fine line that separates lust from love! You have seen how some of the men in the Varden look at you—now that, Arya, is lust in the purest form! The way Faolin speaks to you, holds you, and, yes, even kisses you—now those are all signs of the very difficult thing to find known as love."
It was quite obvious that Brom was very opinionated when it came to her situation.
"I do not know, Brom. I just do not know," Arya muttered.
"What is there to not know? What is there to know? He loves and cares for you and you, from my perspective, love and care for him! Speak to him once and for all about all of this and clarify everything. Faolin was a decent travel companion on the road, and though I do not admit this about many people—or elves—I have to say that I rather enjoyed Faolin's company during the times I got to speak with him. I would find it a great pity if he were to be sent back to Du Weldenvarden, especially after he crossed mountains and a desert to get here."
"I'm sending him back because I care for him," Arya shot back, though her argument was half-heartedly stated.
"Because you care? Then I suppose you don't truly care about Glenwing's safety, even though he left, like Faolin, of his own accord to join you?"
"Leave me be, Brom. I am tired, and will deal with these matters later."
"No! I will not relent in this matter until you can once and for all come up with a good explanation for why Faolin should return back to Du Weldenvarden!"
"Brom, I am exhaust—" Arya cut herself off here. These words, and the ones she had just said suddenly brought flashbacks to her mind.
Flashbacks of the day she told her mother she had her heart set on becoming the ambassador of the elves.
Her mother had used the excuse of being too tired, before she eventually finally talked after some persistence from Arya. Now, Arya saw that she was in this exact same position—only this time, she had assumed the role of her mother.
It disgusted her.
"Yes then, Brom. I will give you a reason," Arya remarked, waiting for her words to take root in to Brom's mind.
Brom looked at her, brow furrowed at the sudden change of mind that Arya had just displayed. Was there some catch to this, or had she honestly decided to give him a reason? "Then let us hear it," he replied impatiently.
Arya took a deep breath before she began her answer. In truth, she had not planned to say anything. Right now, she was simply speaking through impulse. Though dangerous this was, she knew that it was the truest way to express what she truly felt.
"The reason why I want to send Faolin back to Du Weldenvarden is the fact that I feel as if being here is a danger for him," Arya said, knowing that she was repeating what she had earlier said. Brom made a notion to protest, but Arya silenced him with a reproaching look as well as a gesture made from her hand telling him to stop.
"And though Faolin can take care of himself, I feel as if he sometimes cares more for me than his own common sense should allow him. I know that I need devotion like this for some feats, but Faolin takes it all to the next level."
The more she spoke, the more she disliked herself.
"I care for Faolin—that much can be easily stated. If you care for someone, you should have the feeling that you must always protect him or her. You always want them to be safe whenever you embark on adventures. To wish for them to remain at your side, whether they are willing or not, is selfish, and I will not take it, especially from Faolin.
"He deserves a life back in Du Weldenvarden like any other elf. Glenwing told Faolin and I when we first met him that he wanted to leave Du Weldenvarden. I never gave Faolin much of a chance to truly tell me what he wanted, for I highly believe that when he pledged himself to follow me to the Varden, he was swept to make this rash decision by his emotions."
"He would follow you to the ends of the earth," Brom whispered hoarsely.
Arya nodded. "And if he did, that would guarantee a sure death no matter what. I believe that Faolin should live more of his life back in Du Weldenvarden. If in, say, five years to a decade, he so chooses to return to me and resume his duties underneath me, I will gladly accept him. But for now…"
"You are giving him a free rein." Brom finished for her. He looked at her intently for a few moments, letting the silence in. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak once more. "I can see now that you do not want to let him go, but you see that you must for his sake, whether he truly knows it or not. I understand, and while I may not fully wish it, I do fully support this. I will speak to Faolin."
As he turned to go, Arya touched his shoulder lightly in order to stop him. "One more issue, Brom," she told him. He nodded to show his was listening, and she continued. "Whoever you take to escort Faolin back… Tell that person to deliver a message from me to him once he is on the border of Du Weldenvarden."
"A message, Arya?"
"Yes, a message. Let Faolin know that what I said about my heart belonging to someone… tell him that it was true, and that it belonged to him."
Brom bowed his head in compilation and nodded. With that, he left, closing the door and allowing Arya some time to herself.
One would have expected Arya to simply break out in tears, but she had been brought up to be too much of a monarch to do so. Still, that was not to say that she was at the very least extremely close to tears. When she closed her eyes, they threatened to spill out in a torrent over her cheeks.
Is this really right? It does not feel right, Arya thought to herself as she let out a shuddering sigh.
As she lay her head down on the pillows provided for her, Arya contemplated over the tide of emotions that rushed over her at once, making it hard for her to discern what she truly felt.
She knew for one thing that she felt a large rush of relief engulfing her. Faolin was to be going back to Du Weldenvarden, out of harm's way. There was no doubt in her that he would agree once he saw that even Brom gave his consent.
Relief.
The next biggest thing she felt was a sense of sadness. This was a feeling that she knew would come; she did not know it would have taken on so strongly. She did not cry, though simply the fact that she did not shed tears did not mean she did not feel misery when she and Faolin were to be separated.
Faolin. Her lover, her protector, her savior, and most importantly, her friend.
Relief and sadness. Sadness and relief.
Delving deeper in to her emotions, Arya saw that she was, in spite of herself, rather angry. Yet I don't even know who I am angry with, she thought to herself dejectedly.
She was angry with herself.
She was angry with herself for finding it within her to let Faolin go. She was frustrated with herself for even being able to let Faolin go. She was aggravated with herself for falling in love with Faolin.
She was angry with Faolin for making her fall in love with him.
Relief, anger and sadness.
The last thing she found with herself was passion. Passion, compassion, sympathy, and empathy all put together, in order to be precise.
Her heart yearned for Faolin; it yearned for his touch and his words.
Relief, anger, sadness, and passion.
These four emotions were all bottled up within Arya, and she was not sure how long she could hold it. Though they did not cause her any physical pain, they did cause her some mental agony as she tried to rid herself of all the guilt and rage and whatever else was circulating through everything she thought about.
She had to stop thinking about Faolin.
She couldn't stop thinking about Faolin.
Arya did not know how long she remained like this, though at one point, she fell asleep. Her dreams were touched by nothingness, and for this, she was grateful.
When she woke up, Arya sat there, dazed. She was still in the bliss of not remembering anything, when the events of the day suddenly crashed down on her without warning. She uttered a slight cry of agony before regaining control over the rush of emotions that coursed through every vein and fiber of her being.
Approaching her desk, her eyes fell upon a small piece of parchment on her desk, located next to the vase of flowers still in the process of blooming. For a moment, she mistook it for the note that Faolin had left for her when he had left the flower. When she got closer, however, she realized that it was something else. Picking it up, her eyes flickered through the page and the first thing that caught her eye was the signature.
Faolin.
Going back to the beginning of the writing, Arya saw that the letter was addressed with only her name, with no title.
Arya.
Part of her wanted to simply throw the piece of parchment down, yet the other part of her desperately wanted to read what it said. Biting her lip, Arya glanced down at it and glimpsed Faolin's neat and beautiful script. Instead of reading the message first, Arya simply brought it to her lips and closed her eyes, standing there without making a single movement.
After a while, she opened her eyes, and they first fell on the black morning glory sitting in its crystal container. Reaching out, she tentatively touched the curling petals, feeling the thick and velvet feeling that made the flower so distinct from others.
With that, Arya braced herself and looked down at the letter. She started toward the middle, where there was a clearly spaced out verse for her to read. After reading the first few lines of that section, she realized that it was a poem.
A poem. Faolin had written her a poem.
Softly and sweetly now,
My love,
Watch the reflections,
Of the stars above.
My words can't fathom exactly,
What you mean to me,
Without you, darkness seeps throughout my veins,
As far as the eye can see.
At a lethargic pace,
My mind thinks of memories we've shared,
Problems we've faced,
And adventures we've shared.
It's you who completes me,
I'm by your side,
Through the glorious sunrises,
And the raging tide.
You've slipped through my fingers,
Just once before,
But then there you were,
Knocking at my door.
There are three more words,
I must write that are true,
Though they may sound simple,
I love you.
With that, Arya swallowed tears back and set to reading the whole letter from the beginning.
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Haha!
Epic failure poem! 8D
I actually wrote that a while back… You see, I have this notebook thing where I just write a lot of stuff… That's a poem that I wrote during the summer (haha, I just realized how weird it sounds xD).
It doesn't even have even syllables in each line. Pshhh. xP