A/N: So. A brief drabble I wrote for Schmo, who asked for it on Livejournal. Enjoy! :)

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Rain.

That is the one thing Cor hates about Archenland.

The rain. Incessant, driving, pelting, sheeting, drizzling. It pours off the gabled roof of Anvard, floods the cobbled walkways, and gets under his skin, making him itch all over and giving him sensations of creepy-crawlies under his tunic.

"Oh, do come on, Cor," Corin calls. He is standing in the courtyard, arms outstretched and water dripping down his face as Aravis plays hesitantly in the fountain. ("Archenlanders don't splash…do they?")

Cor shakes his head. "I won't."

Corin mimics his movements, splattering droplets of water horizontally against the vertical ones. "What are you, afraid?"

Lightning—cold-catching—ankle-breaking mud—of course Cor isn't afraid. "I'd rather stay here," he calls back. Under the safety of a roof.

"He is quite the ninny, Aravis," Corin calls.

"Oh, I do know."

She tries to give Cor an arch look, but she looks far too much like a drowned rat to succeed.

Corin stomps the muddy earth like a barbarian. "Ninny, ninny, ninny," he chants.

"I'm not a ninny," Cor retorts hotly.

Aravis laughs, the sound echoing against the stone walls of the palace and burrowing in Cor's ears. "Then brave the dangerous rain, oh valiant knight!"

"He's far too frightened," Corin taunts.

"'Frightened'?" The word stings Cor like a bee.

Aravis sees the look on his face, and she gets up. Cor automatically steps back, fearing another onslaught of mockery, but all she flings at him are drops of water and a knowing look. "Don't listen to him," she says, as if they are the only two people there, and her rain-streaked face is relaxing into a smile.

He relaxes, too.

She takes his hand with a firm insistence that characterizes her perfectly, and before he knows it, she has gotten him to walk willingly into the rain. It really isn't all that bad. The droplets are gentle, warm, and they tickle gently as they drip down his neck, along his cheek, off of Aravis's hand onto his.

Corin watches like a cat denied a great treat, but Cor ignores him. The ground is soft, and Aravis is softer.

He thinks that, someday, he might begin to like the rain after all.