A/N: This is actually a NaNoWriMo, so if this chapter is kind of boring because I type a lot… it's because you basically have to write 2,000 words a day. That's right… 2000 words, not just 2000 characters.

Anyway, this story is just like… Arya's life. This begins from her birth, and is going to lead up to… well, I don't know yet. xD

Now, I know that this is probably really boring to all of you since there really isn't much action going on, but if I could receive one or two reviews… well, it would hearten me a lot more. ^^; I'm still going to continue this story no matter what, however, as it's a NaNoWriMo, so… uhhh… yeah. ^^;

The light of the paling moon silhouetted the forms of the forest, creeping up behind and illuminating the trees with a silvery glow. The moon's light was beginning to disappear, however, soon to be replaced by the light of day. A peaceful breeze fluttered briefly through the expanse of the area, suggesting that dawn was approaching at a rapid pace. As if to confirm this, the midnight blue of the sky began to lighten with the first golden waves belonging to the tiara of rays that crowned the sun.

Small creatures began stirring in their habitats. Some remained still and stared wide-eyed at their surroundings, while others immediately jumped in to action. Those having the latter characteristic could be heard scuttling around, doing whatever they needed to do. Even amongst all the rustling and tiny noises made, a sense of peacefulness and tranquility had itself draped tightly throughout the forest.

A few notes of bird song rose timidly from a nest, no doubt hidden deeply within one of the trees hidden in the span of the shady glade. It was a sweet sound, this bird song; a pulsing sound that wove itself in to little intricate melodies that captivated most. This song was soon joined in a duet with the burbling, splashing music that erupted happily from a small creek making its way playfully through the ground. Someone who entered would most likely be enthralled at the place—there was really no other way to put it. From the abundant amount of foliage to the notes of music that seemed to be living in every single creature, one would think that the place was enchanted—and, from a certain perspective, it was.

This place, much different from the desert that bordered it, was well known, and was much sought out by many. This place, north of the Hadarac Desert, was nothing but a fairytale to many. This place, surrounding Ellesméra, the capital belonging to the elves, was nothing but reality to many.

The forests of Du Weldenvarden.

The name itself bore a majestic tone to it, and rightfully so. It contained two words—two words that had the duty of representing all the greenery that the elves had taken and had gradually, over time, expanded.

It was in this exact forest where elves lived harmoniously—for the most part, anyway. It was in this exact forest where elves worked together to create more and more wonders for the rest of the world to marvel over. It was in this exact forest where, today, the queen was laboring with her own toils, although these weren't toils like working out in the fields (elves didn't exactly have to do things like that anyway).

The queen was struggling with procuring the next heir to the throne. Elf children were rare enough as it was, and the queen was lucky to have already accomplished the first step to bearing a child. Although she was still in a mourning state for her lost husband, she knew that she had to remain strong for the sake of appearance, at the very least, as well as for the sake of her unborn child.

Being in her state, even the simple task of breathing in and out was tough labor. Beads of sweat continued to collect on to her brow as she lay in bed, propped up by a few pillows. When a servant lightly brushed a moist rag against her face, the queen uttered a slight sigh of relief.

At last, it was time.

In less than an hour, the queen cradled a baby in her arms. This position was unfamiliar to her, and it was rather awkward. How do humans do this like it is such a natural pose? Although she would never admit it, she was beginning to wonder if having this child was a mistake. When she happened to glance upon the faces of her subjects, however, the rapture and delight that crossed their faces was something that she knew was worth it.

The few seconds after the deliverance of the child had been received in a silence, but once the newborn baby had reached the queen's arms, shouts erupted from everywhere, ringing in her ears with their deafening sound. It seemed as if every single elf residing in Du Weldenvarden were cheering her name: "Islanzadí Dröttning! Islanzadí Dröttning!"

A smile alighted on to her face. At first it was pasted on and fake, but as it slowly began to relax in to her face, it turned in to a smile that was truly genuine. "Thank you," she murmured softly, knowing that none of the elves could hear her, but giving them her thanks in a quiet voice all the same.

After the cries had somewhat subsided enough to distinguish other words from the roar, the queen was faced with the question of what to name her child. Her eyes flickered briefly from subject to subject as her mind touched on what name to bless the new addition to the elfin race with.

Turning her eyes down on to the baby, Islanzadí noticed that the baby was currently awake and was staring up at her intently, bright green eyes—the same shade that had belonged to King Evandar. Tears sprang to the queen's eyes unbidden, and she breathed in deeply in order to prevent them from spilling out. After all, since the Ancient Language forbade any users of it to lie, she could not give the excuse that she was crying out of joy.

In truth, Islanzadí was afraid. Afraid as to whom her daughter was going to grow up to be, afraid for the elfin race, and afraid for her own well being.

"Arya," Islanzadí pronounced. When no one appeared to be listening, she repeated the name once again, louder. Once the name reached the rest of the elves, the word quickly spread, and cheers were once more blown in to existence, running at a thunderous and boisterous tempo: "Arya Dröttningu! Arya Dröttningu!"

Islanzadí smiled tiredly, making her wishes to be left alone to a servant who then recruited more servants to do the job of hustling everyone out of the queen's quarters. It took a while, but in the end, the queen was left alone with the newborn baby. Looking down once more at the now-named Arya, many thoughts and emotions crossed Islanzadí's mind. When things like this happened, Islanzadí found it in her place to take her emotions and to wrestle with them one by one.

First of all, she hated to admit it, but she was utterly confused. The baby's emerald eyes bore in to the queen's gaze, making an unpleasant tingle run down her spine. It was obvious that this was no ordinary baby, meaning that this would be neither ordinary child nor woman when the years passed. Islanzadí had never particularly possessed any motherly instincts, meaning that even now, she was unsure how to care for the baby, although she vowed to try her best.

Confusion was closely backed with a sense of fear. What would happen now? Would Islanzadí simply just rule and raise her child? Worry flared in to existence, as well—due to the fact that there were barely any children among the ranks of the elves, that immediately meant that Arya wouldn't have much company her own age while she was growing up. Wincing at this prospect, Islanzadí leaned her head back, grateful for the downy pillows backing her up.

"Evandar…" Islanzadí hadn't meant to use her late mate's name, but it had just slipped out. At the sound of her father's name, Arya gave a gentle start and squirmed slightly in her mother's arms. A surprised look jumped on to the queen's face when she saw somewhat of a… knowing look inhabiting the baby's expression—was that possible, or was she just imagining things? After all, childbirth did sap up strength quite easily, meaning that her consciousness might be a little… off.

Closing her eyes, the queen pictured her former mate's face, a sense of longing picking up along with her other emotions. She wasn't exactly sure what she should be feeling—she knew that she should be absolutely delighted as the other elves were that she had brought another elf child—the heiress to the throne at that—in to the world, but somehow, Islanzadí worried if it was right. After all, her mate had died not too long ago, and she was still supposed to be in mourning—the queen herself was still even garbed in black, as the color of sadness.

As no one was here to see her in this moment of weakness, the queen saw it fit that this was the correct time to break down if she truly needed to. Yet another sigh was emitted from her lips, and following quickly behind were a torrent of tears. Their flow started slowly at first, just trickling down and dripping down her cheeks. Their numbers increased, however, and the queen had to sacrifice one of her hands holding Arya in order to wipe away the tears.

This was most likely the first time she had ever cried this hard. She hadn't even shed a tear when she learned of news that Evandar had died—no, she hadn't. Instead, coldness had settled across her features and her personality, hardening her heart and the rest of her demeanor. The rest of the elves wept openly, with the exception of her. It was an odd sight to see thousands of crying elves while the closest one to the victim didn't even say anything. At Evandar's funeral, tears were shared freely among all the elves—with the exception of Islanzadí, whose lips had been pressed in to a firm line, although her eyes betrayed just a hidden glimpse of the depths in her sadness.

The queen held her regal stance, even while she was lying in bed carrying her newborn child. It felt wrong to do otherwise—to recline completely was something to do only when she was in a deep sleep. While still somewhat tense, her senses picked up little sounds that she had never really paid attention to before. There were the obvious sounds, of course: the light rustling of the leaves on the trees when wind brushed through them, the sounds of the forest itself that seemed music affiliated—but then there were also quieter, more shielded sounds, which included the smallest vibrations such as the passive moving of a rock due to the stream of water that passed over it continuously. These little sounds soothed the queen a little, although nothing short of complete and deep sleep would probably ever make her unwind completely, although that was often the case for many.

The queen opened her eyes once more, staring at the painted ceiling above. In a matter of moments, however, her eyelids drooped and gave her eyes a half-lidded expression, a look that suggested at someone who was eventually going to drop in to a deep slumber that would last for a matter of hours. To Islanzadí, sleep was a gentle relief that would bring her away from her busy and hectic life, and in truth, she was extremely grateful to be able to have a little restful time in which she wasn't busy making decisions for one thing or another. It seemed to her that whenever she made some type of decision, there was always at least one person who wasn't happy—she just couldn't satisfy everyone, and that oftentimes made her somewhat discouraged.

Worries creased lines in to Islanzadí's face, lines that would most likely remain with her for the rest of her life. As for now, however, the queen leaned back even further in to her bed, and, in a matter of moments, fell asleep, with Arya still in her arms. Dreams were always a possibility for when she fell asleep, but Islanzadí hadn't recalled a figment of a dream in over many moons, nor had she ever really relied on them for any message before, and now was no exception.