A/N; Victory in my NaNoWriMo is nearing—I can sense it. O:

-isexcited-

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All for the rest of the day, Faolin continued to slip in and out of consciousness. On the inside, this frustrated Arya, though she did not let any sign of it show. Instead, she simply remained by the elf's side, staring out in the distance when he was not awake.

It was at this time Arya began to think about the many aspects of… well, her life.

It was a subject that had remained untouched for a while now, for anxieties of other issues had come before it all. Now, however, while she squandered the rest of the day stubbornly staying by Faolin's side—there was not much else for her to do. In truth, she had not originally started with this topic. Instead, she had thought about other, more lighthearted subjects, but eventually, she drove herself in to a corner, not knowing what else to contemplate on.

In the simplicity of a nutshell, Arya had uprooted her former, peaceful life in Du Weldenvarden in exchange for being able to uproot the somewhat tranquil surroundings of the Varden. She knew that she, for the most part, had no intention of doing so—but she had still accomplished feats like that, and no one would forgive her if she simply told them she did not mean it.

The next days passed slowly—almost unbearably so. Still, Arya gritted her teeth and coped with the events that passed her by. Due to the former events, Brom had postponed his promise of taking her to learn about the true political affairs in which the Varden conducted itself through.

Currently on a mini excursion through some of the halls of Tronjheim that Brom insisted she take, Arya was not particularly happy about leaving Faolin's side, though she did it once Brom guilt-tripped her more than once.

She attempted to voice her opinions on this little trip, but silenced them. It would do no good to complain—when Brom's mind was made up, Brom's mind was made up.

Loraes had been chosen as her guide, and once more, the boy was walking ahead of her, sneaking glances at her in order to see if she was still following him. She knew how uncomfortable he must be; yet Arya could do nothing to help.

"And this," he was saying, "is one of the many halls that leads to the dragon coop, and, of course, Isidar Mithrim."

Arya looked up and nodded, acknowledging the boy's information. She made sure to make a mental note to herself—this knowledge might mean the difference between life and death one day, should she be fleeing from an enemy.

This was apparently a very busy hall, as many people, human and dwarves alike, were passing through. Arya noticed this and hid her ears—the most probable sign of her being an elf—with her hair, but to her dismay, not everyone was fooled. She still had looks thrown in her direction, and as she was in the company of Loraes—a mere boy—words, vulgar and angry, were thrown in her direction. Though they were too quiet for Loraes to hear, Arya managed to pick them up, what with her enhanced ability to hear, like all elves.

"Every single man she deals with ends up hurt, or worse," a woman hissed to her neighbor as they passed through, looking at her through narrowed eyes. This hurt Arya considerably, but as more and more snide comments identical this one began to pile up, she developed a sense of ignoring most of it. She even managed to find some part of her that laughed—until a different assortment of comments began to join the latter ones.

"She will bring ruin to all of us." Not too terrible; Arya already thought this deep down in her mind.

"She is no different than her mother, who hides behind her own protectors." That one stung, as Arya had no intentions of carrying on her mother's personality traits in to her own life.

"Keep your man in check, Annabel, for if he catches sight of that vixen… it will be the end of him." Remarks similar to this were the worst for Arya, as she had no intentions of capturing anyone's heart—for lust or for love. It was the man's own fault if he chose to give in to whims; she had no control over any of it.

Just say it to my face, she thought cynically, resisting the urge to strike down everyone who spoke ill of her. Cowards, all of you.

Arya would have confronted each and every one of them, yet she felt as if she could not. It was not her place—it was not her place to keep them in check. She would not yell or reprimand them, nor would she complain to Brom or Deynor—she would deal with her problems on her own, and if this meant bearing all of these harsh words in silence… then she would do so.

"Hey Loraes! Gotcha a mighty pretty she-devil headed straight for damnation there, don't you?"

It took a while for Arya to comprehend that these words were said quite loudly so that anyone passing through the halls could hear. A large amount of laughter could be heard roaring at this statement, and Arya could see Loraes's flushing as he bit his lip. He threw her a glance over his shoulder very briefly, and she could see that tears were brimming.

It was one thing for someone to talk rudely about her—it was another for someone to talk to Loraes in such a manner. Clenching her fists, Arya threw her head up, and her eyes alighted on a man who appeared extremely pleased with himself. Seeing her looking at him, he winked at her as if the two of them were sharing some joke.

"Wait, Loraes," she hissed to the boy, and began making her way through the crowd toward the man.

"Lady, it's not worth it," Loraes mumbled feebly, but halted and stared after her as she made her way to the man, his eyes wide with fear.

"Sir," Arya addressed the man icily, standing at exactly five paces away from him. Around the two of them, everything had gotten deathly quiet.

"Lady," he responded in a mocking tone, a grin still plastered across his face, making it evident that he was still basking in the glory of having come up with his earlier statement.

"Sir," Arya repeated once more before continuing. "You may call me as many names as you wish—I do not mind. I do not quite know what you are attempting to achieve, but if it is for me to hate you… well, sir, you have already made that all too easy for me." She paused here, choosing her words carefully in case the man was had a quick wit and was good at finding loopholes in what she said. "But, while I can find the patience in others finding flaws in me, that is all I will abide by. If you so happen to wish to ridicule Loraes, who has done nothing wrong, again… then there will be a consequence, to say the very least."

With that, Arya winked at the man, all the while having a mental voice shouting in her mind to stop being so impudent and reckless. You do not need any more enemies here than you already do!, it hissed at her, and she knew that what it was saying was true.

But revenge was oh, so sweet.

Turning away—but not before pouting in the direction of the man in a playful expression—Arya made her way through the crowd that seemingly melted to the sides. Touching Loraes's shoulder lightly, she nodded in order to tell him to move on—which he was all too willing to do. He set off at a very brisk pace, and only slowed down when they were out of sight of everyone else.

"That was a foolish thing to do, lady," Loraes whispered hoarsely to Arya as he kept his eyes trained ahead of him so as to not look at her.

It was just the opinion of a youngster—yet Arya felt as if it bore a large amount of wisdom. She resisted the urge to hang her head, but she knew, deep down inside, that what she had done was not only even more damaging to her reputation—but it had also been immature, and something that she did not quite have to resort to. Loraes could take care of himself.

"But I admire what you did," Loraes suddenly added, looking over his shoulder and giving Arya a wide grin, a grin that Arya did not know the boy was capable of giving—to her, especially.

"Thank you, Loraes," Arya murmured hesitantly, feeling her heart warm at the sign of Loraes's beaming face. "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome, lady," Loraes answered, ducking his head in embarrassment for what seemed like the millionth time to Arya. Still, it was an endearing action, and Arya knew that Loraes would not quite be the same without that habit.

Silence made itself present in the moments that followed, and a brief thought trailing through Arya's head made her realize that silence was now an even larger part of her life than it had been before. She received silence from her mother—which was most likely the worst of all. She also, however, received silence for when she did not speak—but she also received silence when she did speak, as demonstrated by her recent confrontation of the man.

It was rather ironic, as instead of infuriating her, the silence seemed to work with Arya. Something inside her seemed to coexist peacefully with having close to no sound surrounding her, and Arya thought that if everyone could stop talking and doing whatever they had to do and just listened… well, it was possible that things might be different, and people could find it in their hearts to understand one another.

This was an odd theory, and Arya contemplated about it as she followed Loraes. Sooner or later, however, she found herself increasing her step slightly so that she drew up behind him, walking alongside him. She found this to be more pleasant, and she felt considerably better, as she was now not giving the appearance of someone who needed a guide. Now, walking alongside someone, she truly felt confident.

Angling her glance down toward Loraes's face, her eyes picked out a scar marking his left cheek. Reaching without asking permission, her fingers lightly brushed along it. "You got this when you fell before," she stated simply, and Loraes nodded. She felt him stiffen at her touch, and immediately withdrew.

"I could heal it for you, you know," Arya offered, continuing to walk alongside the boy. She was surprised to see him shake his head.

"I don't know about you, lady, but as a boy, scars are rather… admired," Loraes responded, and while it did not show on his face, Arya could hear a note of pride in his voice. The boy reached up and touched the raised part of flesh, and though Arya winced at this sight, he simply looked rather pleased with himself. "And, of course, whenever someone decides to ask about the scar… I can say that I received it while underneath the service of the elf princess." He turned his face and flashed Arya a grin before looking down and suddenly becoming deeply interested in studying the ground.

Arya herself had to smile at the boy's words. So eager, so innocent, she thought to herself wistfully. In some ways, Loraes reminded her of a younger version of Faolin—and rightfully so. Both of their personalities matched, as they were both sensitive to other's feelings, yet there were times when they would show flashes of being someone that Arya could love—though, of course, it was different in Faolin's case. Faolin was her best friend and lover, and Loraes… well, Loraes was someone Arya knew she could depend upon.