Author's Note: So now you guys know why my last chapter was full of warm fuzzies. To tear them all down in this one, muhaha! I'm not that evil, really. I just wanted to further delve into Aravis's meeting with her father. And since my other Cor/Aravis story, "Almost There", didn't give me the opportunity to do it; I now have the perfect outlet. Before I continue with the story, I want to make it clear that though these stories may borrow stuff from each other they are not the same! I have a very different plan for this story, you'll see as soon as more chapters go up. Enjoy!

Prompt 3: Rejection

Aravis had waited a long time for this day. She had stuck it on her calendar and crossed off days until it arrived. The preparations for this day had seemed endless. She had ordered all the food in and had the decorations placed in just the right manner. Her father, after all, was a particular man and she wanted everything to be perfect. The decorations and food were Calormene inspired and, with some persuading, she had even gotten a couple of servants to wear the garb of Calormene slaves. She wanted to show her father that, above all things, she had not lost her culture by her escape.

There was only one problem. Her father was a man of tradition, the very same tradition that dictated there would be no further contact between family members if one forgets the chain of command, imprinted on them since birth. However, Aravis thought, inspecting the gauzy fabrics that she had hung up around the dining hall, He can overlook that, surely, if I can. Aravis stepped back to marvel at her handiwork. King Lune had given her permission to welcome her father in any way she saw fit. Only he and Cor really understood how much this meeting meant to her. They were going to make an appearance—just a short one—to show how well she was being treated in this far off land.

A servant signaled her father's entrance, causing her heart to beat even faster. Her father was finally here. She looked down at herself. Aravis was wearing the rich silk garb of a Tarkheena. Normally she wouldn't have bothered, but her father had always wanted her to uphold all her duties as a daughter, which included embracing fashion just as much as Lasraleen had. Now, she had a chance to be the daughter he'd always wanted.

"Here I come," she said racing down to the entrance hall, but still being careful enough not to damage her new clothes. From the archway she saw her father look around in confusion at the decorations, clearly fashioned in the Calormene style. A huge grin spread across Aravis's face.

"Hello father," she said stepping out from the archway and giving him a dignified curtsy. She broke out into a quick walk towards him. "I've missed you." Suddenly, as though she couldn't wait any longer, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. A moment later she realized that all of this might have overwhelmed him and released him. She stepped back and gestured to the room.

"I thought you might like these decorations. The servants were proud to decorate in the style of such a civilized country as Calormene," Aravis said leading her father to the dining room. Her father just stared at her. Perhaps he was as nervous as she. She almost laughed to think of her father, the Great Rashish, nervous at the thought of reuniting with his daughter. "Here, come and eat. They have all the delicacies of our native land. I haven't had to miss much. Except you and the family." Here she bowed her head respectfully, as a good daughter should. Rashish sat, but didn't put anything onto his plate.

"If you liked Calormene so much, why did you leave?" he said in an accusatory tone. His harsh eyes fixed on Aravis.

"I did like Calormene, Father, exceedingly so. I only did not like Ahosta," Aravis scanned her father's face for any sign of forgiveness. She spoke again in a fearful rush, with her head bowed. "But of course I wanted to obey you father. I knew Ahosta was a horrible man and I knew that even Tash would forgive-"

"Tash does not forgive those that go against his will," Rashish interrupted a torrent of angry words cutting through Aravis's meek tone. "Daughter, you of all people know why we are different from the common riffraff that accost people on market days."

"I do not think that I have dishonored you or my family. I know I went against your wishes, but I saw Ahosta in a way that you could not father. He showed himself to be a most unpleasant man."

"Does the Tisroc think him a most unpleasant man?" Rashish stood up, nearly shouting now.

"No, but-"

"Do you think yourself a better judge of character than the Tisroc?"

"No, father please I-."

"Then how can you deem yourself worthy to choose your own husbad? You know that is not how it's done in our culture. Do you really consider yourself wiser than the sages of the past? You knew the offence, Aravis. You knew the consequences for your escape. No daughter of mine will ever shirk the consequences bestowed upon her." Aravis could hardly hear her father's words as they rained down upon her like a torrent of arrows during war. She saw King Lune and Cor step into the hall. Her father abruptly stopped his reprimands and turned to face the newcomers. Everything about him, from his height to his impeccably polished armor, decreed him a force to be reckoned with.

"Oh," Aravis curtsied, stumbling a little out of nervousness, in the direction of Cor and King Lune. She spoke again with her head bowed and saw the shock written all over the faces of her Archenland companions. "Father, this is King Lune and Prince Cor of Archenland. They are happy to be hosting me and have made me a lady of the court with proper apartments and everything. King Lune, Prince Cor this is my father, the Great Rashish Tarkaan of the Western provinces of Calormene." King Lune and Cor both bowed to Rashish and Aravis.

"How do you do, sire?" I hope you find your stay here in Archenland most enjoyable," said King Lune, his usually jolly tone now stiff and formal. "Your daughter has been preparing for weeks for your visit. I trust it is all to your satisfaction. However, we would be happy to get you anything you need."

"Yes, sire," said Cor a shaky smile still on his lips. "I am pleased to meet a man of your high standing and reputation." Rashish merely nodded at Cor and King Lune before turning to Aravis.

"You cannot shirk your duty. I raised you to be always mindful above all of the honor you bring to your family. Now you disgrace us, forsaking the title of your native country. You have disregarded not only my word, but that of the ruler of our country. You are not a Calormene any more Aravis. And I have no ties to you." Rashish strode toward the door.

"Father, wait!" Aravis scrambled down the hallway after her father. "Please. How can you just leave me?"

"Leaving was your decision. No daughter of mine would ever shame her family. Above all things Aravis, you have proved to be a disappointment." And with that Rashish turned on his heel and left. Aravis hardly flinched at the lound resounding slamming of the heavy entrance hall doors. She swallowed and turned to Cor and King Lune with a watery eyed smile.

"Um, so now we have all this Calormene food in the dining hall. I think I'll clear it away, if it's all right with you. Thanks for meeting my father." Aravis rushed toward the dining hall and started clearing plates away. She brought each one to the kitchen herself. Cor ran after her.

"You don't have to do this, Aravis. The servants can clear all this away," he said watching her clean plates with robotic precision.

"Oh no! I forgot about the servants dressed as slaves. I will have to tell them to change back into their regular uniform and-."

"I'll do that," said Cor interrupted. "It's okay. My father and I will take care of everything."

"No!" said Aravis, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Vaguely aware of them, she scrubbed at her eyes as if trying to stop the tears from coming out. "You've done too much for me already. I can do this on my own."

"Aravis," Cor said a command present even in his gentle tone. "Just sit down." Together, they both collapsed on the three stairs leading to the dining hall. Aravis leaned heavily on the wall behind her.

"I'm fine," she said thickly. "I knew this was going to happen. In some ways this whole thing was my fault for getting my hopes up. I mean he was right to-"

"No father has a right to treat you like that. It doesn't matter that he's a Tarkhaan. He can't just pretend like you aren't his daughter."
"I told you wouldn't understand!" Aravis said angrily, tears trickling down her face. She wiped them away and took a deep breath to stave off any lingering tears. "He loves me. He does. It's just how things go in noble families. How would you know what that's like?"

"I don't, you're right. But I do know that you came here for a reason. We're not going to turn you out that easily."

"I knew that," Aravis said. "You people don't know any better. You don't know anything."

"We know how to make cookies," Cor said dangling one in front of her face. Cookies were the one thing they had missed out on in Calormene. Sure there were ices, but cookies were a whole lot better, at least according to Cor and Aravis. It was one of the only things Cor and Aravis could agree on. Aravis sniffled a little, but accepted the cookie just the same. It was all about small victories with her, after all, and this certainly counted as one.

"You know my mother (on whom be the peace of the g-ds) used to do this. When I was really little," Aravis said in a tone just a shade lower than her usual voice. "But just for really important things. She would always sneak me a cup of ices even though my father always hated us eating too many sweets. But she did it anyway." It was the first time Aravis had ever spoken of her mother to Cor.

"She sounds really special," he said. It was one of those comments that normally would mean nothing, but said at just the right place carried a whole new weight of meaning.

"She was. I mean, she died when I was only six, but I guess I'm lucky to have known her. I think when she died part of father went with her. He was harsher with my brother and I, especially me because now I had to uphold the honor of being the lady of the house. And I didn't know how. I still don't." Cor had never really thought of Aravis's past, never wondered about where she came from. After she had told her story to them when they first met, he had never expressed a wish to delve deeper. However, there was something about her unabashedly telling more of her story, despite the fact that he had never asked, that made him see Aravis as a girl. Not as a Tarkheena or a great lady-in-training. Just a girl who was scared and confused because she wanted her father to love her and he didn't.

"I think you'll make a great lady," Cor said honestly, looking Aravis straight in the eyes. Cor was never one for saying things that he didn't mean for the sake of boosting one's spirits.

"Really?" Aravis asked looking up at Cor, as if hardly daring to believe him. He nodded and seemed to wait for her to say more. When she didn't he spoke up.

"Of course. Look at the way you organized all the servants. And then the minute everything went badly you never lost your head. You did that on our journey, too, remember? When I got snatched up as Corin? You just stood there cool as a cucumber and carried on with the plan." Aravis stood up and scrubbed at her eyes will the balls of her hands. When she spoke most of the thickness was gone from her voice.

"Thanks Cor. You've been a brick," Aravis's voice was tinged with gratitude as she spoke this familiar words. Cor stood up as well, slightly dusting himself off.

"You'll be okay?" he looked at her, trying to gage her expression.
"Well, that depends," she said, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes. "Do you think we can filch some more cookies from the kitchens?"

"C'mon, that's too easy. Prince Cor and Lady Aravis? We could get a whole group of servants to do nothing all day but bake cookies if we wanted." Aravis laughed and suddenly it was easier to act younger, rather than older than her age for once in her life. A huge weight was lifted off her shoulders, she was not a lady anymore, just Aravis. "Race you." Cor said, another challenge in his voice.

"Oh Prince Cor, you have many things to learn. And one of them is to never separate a sad girl from her cookies!" Aravis took off running in the directions of the kitchens and Cor took off after, disturbing cooks and dishwashers, and just creating a mess. Finally they raided the cookies and ran off giggling upstairs. Later King Lune would probably gently rebuke them for acting like unruly three-year-olds, rather than the twelve-year-olds they were. But for now Aravis savored the mischief, almost as much as the cookies. There was a time and place for proper behavior. But, as she was learning, there was often just as many times and places for impropriety. And besides Aravis thought, licking the sweet cookie crumbs off her fingers Aslan never asked me to be a lady, only to be mindful of others. And for once those were expectations that she could live up to.