Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the property of C. S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended.
MC4A Fill Number: Fem Power Challenge, Fill #1; Therapeutic Theorems of Tessellations, Fill #1
Individual Challenges: In a Flash (Y); New Fandom Smell (Y); Ethnic and Present (Y); Seeds (N)
Representations: Aravis; Lucy Pevensie; Woman of Color; Cultural Standards; Beauty and Modesty; Religious Uncertainty
Bonus Challenges: Bechdel Test, Ladylike (Stubbornness/Determination), Not a Lamp, Persistence Still, White Dress
Tertiary Bonus Challenges: Terse, Thimble
Spring Bingo Space Address: 3A (Warmth)
Word Count: 984
"There, you're all done, my dear. Come and look at yourself! How beautiful you are!"
Aravis stared at her reflection in the long, ornate mirror. It was ages since she'd had the time or the presence of mind to look at herself, really look at herself, in a mirror, and what she now saw surprised her. The large, dark eyes were her own, but the face out of which they peered at her was far thinner and darker than before. She surveyed this new face with a critical eye, noting the jutting cheekbones and the deep red-brown hue of her once flawlessly golden skin. The journey across the Great Desert had taken its toll. Aravis was not a vain person, but still she burned with shame that she must be introduced to the royal court of Archenland like this.
At last the urgings of the Narnian queen made Aravis turn her eyes from the marred beauty of her face to take in the rest of her appearance. Her black hair, clean but not oiled, for the northerners did not use oils on their hair and had none to give to her, hung loose past her waist, save for a few locks caught up by silver cords and plaited into a crown about her head. Without the oil to soothe and shape it, her hair was quickly becoming a slave to the summer heat, flying about in disorderly straggles.
She turned her attention to the northern-style dress. She was pleased with the long, full skirt, which flowed in billowing folds to barely touch her feet. It was cool and airy, and gave her a feeling of elegance. But as her eyes traveled up the tight bodice to the low neckline cut just above her small breasts, her cheeks grew warm, and her hands flew up of their own accord to cover the bare skin.
"I cannot go out like this," she said in a soft voice.
"Oh, dear one, of course you can!" Queen Lucy wrapped an arm across her shoulders, her chestnut hair falling in waves around Aravis's face. "You look as lovely as any lady of Narnia or Archenland. Fear not, the sunburn will soon fade, though no one will think of it tonight—"
"No." Aravis pulled away and stepped back from the mirror, her voice finding strength as the Narnian queen babbled on. "I cannot wear these clothes. They are not chaste."
"Not… chaste?" Queen Lucy cast a glance down at her own dress, and too late, Aravis realized that the cut of their gowns was nearly identical. "What do you mean?"
Aravis drew in a breath. She is only a Narnian barbarian, she thought. Of course she does not understand— But at once she stopped. That thought belonged to the old Aravis Tarkheena of Calormen, arrogant, selfish, and ignorant; it was unworthy of the new, free Aravis of Archenland. Even if, in this case, the Narnian way was wrong.
"Tash commands that women should cover themselves for the sake of modesty," she explained. "To go so uncovered in front of all the men of the court…" She hesitated, not wanting to offend the queen, but decided there was nothing for it but to tell the truth. "It would be a sin."
The look of confusion vanished from Queen Lucy's face, and a smile came into its place. "Oh, that's all right, then. Have you forgotten? You are a servant of Aslan now, not of Tash. His laws bind you no longer."
Aravis shook her head. It was true that she had met Aslan, and that he was the greatest and kindest and wisest and most awesome being she had ever encountered. But while she knew in her heart that in the end that if it came to a choice she must choose the great Lion, she had served the god Tash from an infant, and she could not so easily give up following his commandments. Until she had settled in her mind what to do, she would still obey him.
"I cannot. I am sorry. Bring me back my old clothes, for though they are rags, I can wear them without defiling my conscience. Or if not, then I will not go to the feast."
Queen Lucy looked at her for a moment, confusion returning to her eyes. Then, all at once, her face cleared, and she laughed. "You have a strong spirit, dear one. Someday soon, you shall meet my eldest brother Peter; I think he would like you very much. You neither of you back down when you believe something to be right."
She started back toward the wardrobe from which she had taken the dress Aravis was wearing, beckoning her to follow. "Very well, my dear. But I should hope we can do better than rags, or I don't like to think what King Lune would say to me!" She laughed again, and it was such an easy and friendly laugh that Aravis joined in. "Let us search for a better dress, or if there is none, then a shawl or a scarf that will serve."
It had to be a scarf in the end, but it was a large and a long one, and there was plenty of cloth not only to conceal the front of the dress but also to provide a proper covering for Aravis's hair. Queen Lucy promised to speak to King Lune about getting some dresses imported from Calormen ("Perhaps the ship they send to take poor Rabadash home can pick some up on the way back") and in the meantime to have the palace seamstresses sew her some more scarves. The girls were soon so busy planning out colors and patterns that they were startled when the half-man half-goat creature, whom the queen affectionately called Mr. Tumnus, knocked on the door to remind them there was a feast to be attended.
A/N: It was a challenge for me to strike the right tone in this story, and I can only hope that I have succeeded. My most recent time reading The Horse and His Boy opened my eyes to some of the more controversial aspects of the book, and while I am a firm believer in reading things in the context of the time in which they were written, I admit to being made uncomfortable with some of the portrayals of the Calormene characters. Most of those issues I have not attempted to address here, but I did want to explore a little more about Aravis's "conversion" (to address the allegory explicitly). Knowing me to be a conservative Christian, my readers can no doubt infer my view as to whether this conversion was right or necessary, and I do not attend to address that here, either. However, knowing how Aravis grew up deeply involved in Calormene society and culture, I do not think she would have immediately given up all of her beliefs and customs in favor of the Archenlandian/Narnian ones. Having grown up worshiping Tash, she most likely would have struggled to give up her belief in him even as she came to believe in Aslan, and certainly she would have struggled to separate her personal moral code from the commands of the god she no longer served. And I see no reason at all why she should have needed to give up the Calormene style of dress in favor of the northern style.
As a final note, given that Lewis clearly modeled the Calormene culture on Arab culture, I chose to use the Quran's standards of modesty as a very loose basis for Aravis's beliefs here. The passage I looked at specifically is found in 24:31.