Disclaimer:I don't own Narnia or whoever ends up there.

'Many years ago, at the time when the High King Peter and his royal siblings had just ousted the evil White Witch, with the grace of Aslan, the great Lion, the son of the Emperor-over-the-sea, the King above all High Kings in Narnia, and saved the beasts and good people of Narnia from her reign of cruelty, the King Lune of Archenland and his Queen were blessed with a pair of bonny twin boys. The sun shone bright in the eyes of all - the good King and Queen rejoiced, and the people and creatures of Archenland rejoiced also, for the birth of the heir to the throne is a happy occasion for any kingdom, and the sons of such a good and just ruler as theirs were sure to be good and just in their own right. A week of revelry followed, wherein all the subjects made merry - Talking Beasts and humans alike, and wherein the Kings and Queens of Narnia partook in the celebration as well, and had cause to become the greatest of friends with King Lune; but an evil eye watched their joyfulness, and cast the dark shadow of blight on their jubilation…'

A small group of children sat beneath the huge cherry blossom tree on the low grassy hillock that rose behind the castle of Anvard. The speaker was a dark-eyed and dark-haired young woman who sat in their midst, who spoke in the distinctive style particular to all famed storytellers of Calormene, and indeed, though it was many years since Aravis had spoken in the manner followed in her father's land, she found herself using the same tones and fashion of storytelling, which every Calormene student is supposed to master. (Storytelling is like any other talent; it may become rusty with disuse, but you never really forget it.) The six and seven-year olds, who were children of the servants at the castle and who had not been born when those momentous events took place in Anvard, never tired of listening to the tale, and this recital had become a weekly routine. (As little Mabel, who had heard the story dozens of times, said to her mother: 'Lady Aravis makes it sound more grand and wonderful than anyone else - you feel like listening to her forever.')

'… and so the peasant boy Shasta was delivered from all his great troubles, and was reunited with his loving father and twin brother, to take his rightful place as heir and Prince of Archenland,' Aravis concluded, and a sigh of satisfaction passed around the circle.

She looked up from the group of young faces to see her maid standing by the children; she was wringing her hands and looking dismayed.

'..I didn't wish to interrupt, my lady, but you had told me to inform you when Sir Murrin arrived, and he has been with Prince Cor for the past half hour in the courtyard.'

Aravis jumped to her feet. 'Why, the sneaky toad..!'

The children giggled, and chorusing a 'Thank you, Lady Aravis!' ran off towards the stables, to enjoy the rest of their holiday.

Muttering dire threats beneath her breath, Aravis stormed down the hillock and into the courtyard of the castle, where a swordfight was in progress. The armoured young man, who had been holding his own very well against the seasoned warrior, the centaur Sir Murrin, caught sight of her livid face and in the split second of lost concentration, found the tip of his opponent's sword at his throat.

'Darn it!'

'Your reflexes are good and you are spry on your feet, Your Highness, but you must learn not to be so easily distracted', said Sir Murrin calmly, as he sheathed his sword and lent a hand to Cor to help him up.

Aravis strode up to Cor and jabbed a finger at his chest, though with his mail chain, it hurt her more than it did him. 'I am to learn these new fencing techniques too! You promised to let me know when Sir Murrin arrived - you lying, two-faced-'

'Oh, cut me some slack, Aravis! You know Father said it wasn't safe for young ladies-' Cor took a step back, and folded his hands over his chest, trying to look stern, in an imitation of his father.

'Faugh! King Lune didn't forbid me from learning them! You said you'd call me – and now I find you stealing lessons behind my back!'

'It isn't safe, Aravis!' Cor ran his hand through his hair in frustration. 'You'll learn this, and then want to fight in battles – you fence well enough, for a girl,' Aravis's eyes flashed in anger, 'but we'd rather you didn't risk your life-'

'Thou hast been such a comfort to me and mine, my dear – I would not countenance the harm to a single hair on your head.' King Lune had come up behind them, unobserved, and she bit down her angry retort at his gentle words, though her eyes still glared at Cor.

'Heigh-ho! So my son displays signs of further mastery over the sword, does he? Thou hast come a long way since thy first battle!' Chuckling, the King turned to Sir Murrin and begun discussing Cor's lessons. Cor shot an apologetic look at Aravis, but she ignored him and stomped outdoors.

Later that day, Cor sat at a desk in a chamber which was commonly known as the 'morning room', for the sunlight streaming in made it a cheerful place during the day, though it was mainly used as a cosy retreat on chilly winter evenings. He was composing a letter to one of his woodland friends who lived near the Great River, up north at Narnia (for, by now Cor was such good friends with King Edmund and Queen Lucy that he had spent all his school holidays at Narnia and become acquainted with all sorts of fascinating persons) to arrange a surprise for Aravis, to make up for the disappointment with the fencing lessons, when he was interrupted by his twin.

'So you didn't allow our fair Aravis to master the sword? For shame, brother! Afraid she'd be better at it than you?' Corin asked, smirking.

Cor turned to him hotly, but the expression in Corin's eyes was that of amusement, and being well used to recognizing when his brother was baiting him, he turned away with nary a reply.

'When do you plan to tell her, Cor? She will see your over-protective tactics as condescension, which will make her madder than ever, and the next time she visits Lucy at Cair Paravel, some visiting lord will carry her away! And then I'll probably find you composing bad verses on unrequited love; and all because you won't tell her that you love her!'

For what Corin (and King Lune, and the servants, and the courtiers and likely everyone who had ever seen Cor around Aravis) knew, the heir to the kingdom had long lost his heart to the dark-eyed (former) Tarkheena of Calaver. The state of the lady's feelings was still a mystery, for though Cor spoke about everything else under the sun with his childhood comrade, he seemed strangely hesitant to broach the topic of his feelings with her; and no one had ever been able to guess what went on in Aravis's mind.

'I'll tell her,' he mumbled now, not willing to confess that he was being cowardly. What if Aravis laughed scornfully in his face, as she was wont to do when talking about other unfortunate suitors of hers? What if their (albeit rocky) friendship was ruined - if he told her about his feelings, and found that she did not return them? The thought was not to be borne.

Aravis had walked to the house of the Hermit of the Southern March, as she often did when she wished for some peace and quiet. For many years now, she had taken over the managing of the household, and the castle ran like clockwork, with her as chatelaine, but she sometimes found the constant activity stifling. She was quite disappointed about the fencing lesson, not because of a yearning to learn the sport, but because she had wanted to have something new to do so very badly. Lately, her days had been filled with a vague restlessness, and she did not know the cause of this dissatisfaction - except that thinking of Cor always made her more irritated than she was. And now, she was not to be allowed to have even this distraction, and it was all his fault.(Aravis was not thinking very rationally or coherently here, I must confess; she blamed Cor because that just seemed the most satisfying course to take, though, of course, he was not to blame at all.)

To her overjoyed surprise, she found that the Hermit was not alone, for Hwin had journeyed from Narnia for a visit. She was accompanied by her husband, a handsome grey horse by the name of Niahh(a cousin of Bree's) whom Aravis had met at their marriage ceremony(which is not at all like that of us humans, but just as long-winded; I'll just tell you that it involves a lot of racing and rolling and feasting on carrots and apples) They had a joyous reunion, and Aravis asked after Bree, who had always accompanied them before.

'Oh, Bree is in the midst of a courtship!' said Hwin, laughing, and Niahh snickered (A horse's snicker is very different from a human's snicker, as you must know – it is very nearly a part of their speech.) 'He is besotted with a lovely mare who lives near the Western forests, and she is such a dear, shy thing that he does not know how to proceed at all! Bree's been at it for half the year, and it's really quite funny to watch – he's been made the butt of too many jokes to count…'

Aravis laughed, but she felt a curious pang, which she couldn't understand at first, but later recognised as a feeling of loneliness. She was quite amazed at the discovery, for (she thought) she had no reason to feel lonely, being always surrounded by so many people; though that isn't a good enough reason, as one can feel all alone even in the midst of a crowd, you know.

The truth was that Aravis was feeling left out; her friends had moved on to a new phase of life - which seemed so wholly different and new from what she had always known, that she felt lonesome and despondent and little envious, without even properly understanding why. She had never thought of love and marriage seriously, except at that time when she had had to run away from home to avoid being married to the odious Ahoshta Tarkaan, and that was just to decide that she didn't want that fate. None of her numerous suitors had touched her heart, but now she realised that being left behind was not a very pleasant sensation and that she did want to get married someday. This inexplicably reminded her of her anger with Cor again, and she left, after inviting Hwin and Niahh to come up to the castle, in order to go and fume in peace.

'Prince Cor has asked for your presence in the terrace, my lady,' said the maid.

Aravis had been sitting at the window seat in her boudoir, staring away into space, after a quiet lunch alone. The King and Cor had had to go away to resolve a quarrel between a cobbler and a Mule, and had not returned till late afternoon.

As she approached the terrace doors, she could hear Cor speaking and a low, melodic female voice replying, and she swallowed a feeling of dread. She stepped onto the terrace, and the voice broke into a song of Calormen - one of the very songs she had sung and danced to, with her friends at school (All girls at Calormen are taught to sing and dance, for many of the stories they narrate contain songs, and that is considered more important knowledge than Mathematics or Geography. Their lessons are really much more interesting than yours would have been.) Aravis stopped and stared, a lump rising in her throat.

The voice belonged to a large bird that sat on the special perch constructed for aerial visitors; it was the rarest of Talking Beasts – a Nightingale. (Nightingales are the most melodious birds, as you well know, but a Nightingale that is a Talking Beast sings with a voice that is sweeter than the sweetest of human voices; and they can sing proper songs, of course, with proper words that you would understand.) Cor saw Aravis standing in the doorway, and grinned.

'This is Silverbell, Aravis. She has often journeyed to different lands in pursuit of different types of music, and particularly, she was brave enough to stay in Mezreel for a couple of years (for, as you know, if she had been caught by the Calormenes, it would have meant definite bondage) to learn of their songs-'

The Nightingale turned her grey head towards Aravis and bowed.

'I have heard great praises of your singing voice, my Lady Aravis, and came on purpose to learn what I could – I have sat in the gardens of Tarkhaans and Viziers, but hiding in the boughs of a decorative tree, to catch a few strains of melody, will never match learning those songs from a master.'

Aravis, her face brimming with happiness, clapped her hands in excitement. 'That would be lovely! I would not call myself a master of the art, Silverbell,'(modestly),'but I have often entertained my father's household, and would be pleased to share my knowledge with you. Oh, how I have longed to sing and dance to those tunes again!'

What followed was a blissful evening of music, filled with 'Do you know's – 'Do you know that song which describes the Garden of the Thousand Blooms?', 'Do you know that ballad about the life of the sailor who was shipwrecked fifty times?', 'Do you know that tune they play on the Teebethian lute? It never sounds quite the same when sung.' – which left Aravis in elevated spirits and quite restored her good humour with Cor, for he sat there through the whole, smiling as he heard their voices raised in song.

'This has been a very great pleasure, my lady,' said Silverbell the Nightingale at last, 'but I must now take leave of you. It is my hope that we will meet again in future, to enjoy more of such musical discourses.' She turned to Cor. 'I thank you for inviting me to your castle, and for your hospitality, Your Highness. It was by the Lion's grace indeed, that I received your message before I left for the far Eastern countries, for I was to have left just half an hour later – and would have had to miss this pleasant interlude.' And so Aravis learnt that Cor was behind this happy surprise, and her heart skipped a little in delight.

'Well, you seemed so dejected about the lesson, and I know you've been missing Calaver again,' he said gruffly, in response to her questioning look, and turned away, flushing a little. Cor always got embarrassed when things started getting sentimental.

Oh, the dear, dear man. She smiled softly, blinking away the sudden tears that had sprung into her eyes. How I love him. The thought fell gently into her mind, as does a drop of rain into a pool of water, but she reeled back in amazed surprise at the realisation. I love Cor! She had had no idea, you see.

Now, it would seem that this love story would hasten to its happy conclusion with no further delays, for Aravis was not one to keep silent about what was in her head, but love has strange effects on people and in the case of Aravis, it struck her with a rare case of shyness. And so, the next week saw Prince Cor and Lady Aravis being overly-polite to each other, shy to the point of awkwardness, and generally making themselves as uncomfortable as could be.

This could not last, of course.

On the morning of the seventh day, Aravis found Cor and the stable master in discussion near the horse enclosure. A beautiful mare was grazing near the fence, its coat the pure white colour of milk, and Aravis fell instantly in love with it. It looked up at her and whinnied softly.

The two men had turned towards her, so she asked Cor, 'Is this mare a new addition to the stables? Oh, please can I have it for my own?'

The prince was frowning slightly. 'Yes, we received it as a gift from the Satyrs of Tog, but it seems that it hasn't been broken in yet. It looks docile enough, but I think you had better not risk riding it till it has been tamed- the man who has raised her is due to do it by the end of this week…'

Aravis had been gazing at the mare's large, liquid eyes, and at this, she replied with something of her old spirit, 'Pooh! I could easily break her in myself - why wait for a week? I'm sure this darling will be no trouble-'

'No Aravis, I think it would be better to wait for the trainer.' Cor cut her off brusquely. He usually knew better than to forbid Aravis to do anything – it was a sure way to get her to do it at the first opportunity – but he was in a foul mood because of a report of the trouble being caused by the Lapsed Bear of Stormness to the hermits on the high Archenland mountains, as there seemed to be no solution to the problem. (But that is another story, and perhaps, you have already heard what happened to it.)

Aravis flared up as expected, all her temporary politeness forgotten, and snapped (in the nasty way someone adopts when they want to annoy someone else), 'And why should I follow what you say, Shasta?' She knew, you see, that Cor hated being reminded of those early years of his life in Calormen.

This irked Cor, already irritated, and he adopted the imperious tone which is inherent to all leaders of men (and women), as he said, 'You will follow my wishes, Tarkheena, because I have the right to your obedience as your future King and master of this household.' He added thoughtlessly, 'And don't think you can twist me around your little finger, like you may have done in your father's house-'

Aravis, infuriated beyond reason, stepped away from him, and saying hotly, 'I only twist men around my little finger, not overly-cautious, priggish sissies, Your Highness!' strode away to the stables, and had saddled a horse and ridden away into the forest, before a furious Cor could stop or follow her.

Aravis galloped at a furious pace, deep into the forest, the small path used by the forest dwellers allowing the speed. After a while, her horse began showing signs of fatigue, flecked with sweat and panting, and Aravis(who was never so lost to anger that she would harm dumb beasts) slowed down to a stop in a small clearing.

The horse began grazing nearby, as she first paced in the small place, and finally flung herself to the ground below a huge oak.

How dare he? She thought fiercely. As if I have no choice but to live under his kind and large-hearted charity! As though I haven't been courted by a dozen lords with properties larger than his castle, and just last summer turned down the suit of the Prince of Leven! And so on, as the mind is wont to do when in the throes of anger and excessive pride, till she had made herself quite wretched with thinking hateful things about Cor.

Presently, she realized that she was not alone in the clearing, and looked up to see a large cat, sitting on the branch of a tree in front and staring at her, swinging its tail lazily. As she looked, it climbed down the tree, came towards her and surprised her exceedingly, by curling up beside her and purring quietly.

Her anger being partly lessened, she began stroking the cat. 'Oh puss, if only I knew what to do!' For, till then, she had only brooded on what he had said to her, and had been too busy feeling insulted to realise that she had insulted Cor badly in return, too. And it must be conceded here, that they both were nearly equally at fault; for it was exceedingly bad mannered of Cor to remind her that Anvard was not really her home (a fact that was always at the back of her mind), and as everyone knows, there can be no greater insult to a man than to be considered unmanly.

Now, knowing that you've behaved badly and just feeling sorry for it is one course of action, and actually working to correct the wrong you have done is another. Aravis was sorry, but she was too proud to own up and admit that she was wrong.

Why should I be the first to apologise? If he hadn't acted so insufferably high-handed, I wouldn't have said it, would I? So went her thoughts, but she was distracted by the cat, whose quiet purr had suddenly increased so much in volume so as to seem a growl.

A voice seemed to whisper in her head - What of the time when you were recovering from fever, and Cor brought you Calormene food to tempt your appetite? Who was it who consoled you when your first Narnian dog died, and brought you its brother – an almost identical replacement? And who defended you when the dwarves of Ettinsmuir spoke against you at the Narnian banquet during the winter solstice, for just being a Tarkheena of Calormen?

As she tried to catch her scattered thoughts, the voice went on - So are the bonds of friendship loosened and seekers of true love thwarted - by foolish pride and vain selfishness. It is easy to be foolish, but it takes great courage to be wise. Be wise, daughter of Eve.

Aravis blinked back tears, her heart heavy, and noticed that the clearing was quiet. The cat had disappeared.

Prince Cor of Archenland was pacing on the terrace, and mentally whipping himself.

'What a fool! How could I have spoken so, when I know how touchy Aravis is, about her stay here at Anvard?' he muttered to himself. 'And I mean to woo her and ask her to be my wife? Gah! Thickheaded nitwit!'

He saw Aravis riding into the lawns before the castle, and hurried down to the stables.

She turned to him, and both began speaking at the same time.

'Aravis,I-'

'Cor,I-'

They stopped, abashed, and started again.

'You go first-'

'What were you sayi-'

By now, the ice was broken – you can never feel awkward or angry or sad when something like this happens.(Try it and see.) They smiled tentatively at each other, and both spoke again, and together – but both heard what the other said as clear as could be.

'I'm so sorry, Cor.' said Aravis.

'I love you, Aravis.' said Cor.

There was a beat of astonished silence, and then Aravis flew into his arms.

A/N: My wandering thoughts led me into the world of Narnia, and compelled me into trying my hand at imitating C.S Lewis's style. I'm not sure how successful I've been - it's hard to write romance and follow his style of writing : as you know, he wraps up all sentiment within a sentence, at most - and here I've stretched it for a whole chapter! But - I wanted to know Aravis and Cor's love story, and I hope you enjoyed my version of it. :)

softballgirl: Thanks for reviewing! I'll definitely write more Narnia fics when inspiration strikes. :)

All reviews make my day, so please, R & R! :)