Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia is the intellectual property of C. S. Lewis and his estate. No money is being made from this story, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Ha, less than two weeks between chapters! *victory dance* And I think I can now say with... oh, 50% surety that this story will be about 15 chapters long. So now you know. Incidentally, if you are curious about the usual form of the Calormene marriage rite, you can find my thoughts at edenfalling (point) dream-width (point) o-r-g (slash) 550817 (point) h-t-m-l (hashtag) cutid2 [Remove all the hyphens.]

Still book canon only.

Summary: Running from your problems is rarely a good long-term solution, but sometimes the change in environment can be helpful - especially now that Aravis and Cor are on the same page.

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Chapter 7: The Beating of Our Hearts
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Aravis disliked the journey into Narnia, though she had gone willingly five times during her first year in the north, so that she might speak to Queen Lucy and spend a week or two in a place where her role was clearly defined. The Narnians treated guests nobly and never begrudged her origin, despite Queen Susan's ordeal, whereas the Archens held ancient enmity with Calormen and were rarely sure what to make of her status - something partway between king's ward, long-term guest, and unofficial hostage.

Even in the height of midsummer the mountain road was prone to enveloping fog, and the trees pressed thickly all around like disapproving sentinels. Hwin and Bree passed the time trading gossip about their respective herds and territory negotiations with the centaurs and other grassland Beasts of Narnia. Cor rode silently, seemingly lost in thought. Aravis had nothing to contribute to the Horses' conversation and could not think of the right way to break into Cor's reverie, not when they hadn't spoken properly in so long. She held her tongue until they were through the pass and safely down past the narrow cliffside path, with the great valley of Narnia spread out before them like a landscape on silk.

She sat back in the saddle. Hwin took her suggestion and stopped. After a moment, Bree noticed he was walking alone and turned to eye them questioningly, his nostrils flared to catch any strange scent on the wind.

"We've crossed the border," Aravis said. "Now that we're nominally beyond Archenland's reach, I want an explanation."

Bree tossed his head. "An explanation of what? You wanted to run away, Cor wanted to run away, Hwin and I offered to help, and here we all are in Narnia. What could be simpler?"

Aravis ground her teeth. "I know why I wanted to leave Archenland. I know why you and Hwin helped. Cor, on the other hand, has spent the past two months treading dangerously close to denying me, which, after I accepted his courting gift, could well be considered grounds for blood feud. I know that you love your father and you wish to be worthy in his eyes," she added directly to Cor. "I know why you were delaying, which is why I was willing to take the dishonor of breaking the dance on myself. Yet here we are, fleeing Archenland as we once fled Calormen, with an even more uncertain future before us. What changed your mind?"

Cor swung his left leg over the saddle and slid to the slanted ground. It was strange to look down on him from Hwin's back. They had been of a height as children, but he had three inches on her these days, just enough that she found herself tilting her chin when they spoke face to face. It was also fitting that he stand lower now, like a supplicant come to her father's court to beg her favor. There was no obligation to respond to the overture of a dance, but Cor had met her, matched her, and then stepped back.

"The king is under the law, for the law is what makes him king," Cor said slowly, stepping up the grassy hillside with his eyes raised to catch Aravis's gaze. "Father said that to me on our first night in Anvard - do you remember? A king in answerable to his country and his people. If he forgets that, he becomes a tyrant. I want to do right by Archenland. I wanted to make people see that you're the best thing in my life, that you could never be a weakness. I wanted to obey the law, to work with the Great Council rather than against it, and make Father proud."

Hwin shivered and took a nervous step sideways. Aravis loosened the grip of her legs and held herself straight and strong under Cor's earnest gaze. "What changed your mind?" she repeated.

"The law in Archenland isn't the same as the law in Calormen," Cor said. "It's about personal honor as much as rules, just like debt and testimony - did you know that? What am I saying; of course you knew that. I should have known it, if I'd been thinking. The law is a promise between the people and the king." He shrugged, a slight self-deprecating gesture. "How could anyone trust me to keep that promise if I broke a more important one to you?"

Aravis swung her leg over Hwin's back and slid to the grassy earth. Cor stepped forward and took her hands.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked.

"We have two witnesses," Aravis said rather than answer directly. "Do you have objections?"

For a moment Cor looked like the baffled boy she'd first grown to know on their journey. Then comprehension kindled a slow fire behind his eyes, and his fingers tightened around hers. "Bree, Hwin," he said, "will you stand witness to our marriage and attest its truth before any court?"

Bree looked utterly confused, but he nodded his head. "Yes, of course, but don't you need, oh, a dress, and some papers to sign, and another person to say a bunch of nonsense to make it official? Possibly something with ribbons or a fire?"

"That's only if they want to be grand," Hwin said from behind Aravis's shoulder. "I saw humans do this in Calormen. All they need is themselves and a pair of friends to swear they said the words before they got down to mating."

Horses, Aravis reflected, had a very earthy way of seeing the world. She caught a blush rising in Cor's cheeks and was grateful yet again that her own slight embarrassment was not equally visible to him. "Well then," she said, threading a note of challenge into her voice. "Will you keep your promise?"

Cor raised their joined hands to heart-height and said, "In the name of Soolyeh, I take you for my wife. May our marriage be warm." He stared into Aravis's eyes, the slant of the hill putting them exactly on a level.

Aravis held his gaze. "So may it be. In the name of Garshomon, I take you for my husband. May our marriage be fruitful."

The words were familiar. Aravis had heard them many times, for her father had been prone to grant the request of his slaves and the peasants on his estate that he stand as their witness and thus bring greater dignity to their unions. She had heard them again when Ilroozeh Tarkheena had married her father, for though the trappings of the wedding might be grand beyond belief, the rite itself was always the same. And she had been made to embroider them and paint them in calligraphy lessons as she grew to be of marriageable age, for no Tarkaan wished his daughter to embarrass him when she left his protection to join her new husband's household.

But this was a piece of Calormen, not of the north. To hear these words, to speak the names of Calormene gods in the land of the Lion himself, was vertiginously strange.

"So may it be," Cor said, his voice wavering as if he shared Aravis's feeling of displacement. "In the name of your father, I take you for my wife. May our marriage be honorable."

Kidrash Tarkaan would approve of Cor, Aravis thought. "So may it be. In the name of your mother" - whom she had never met, but King Lune had loved and respected her and therefore Aravis could but assume Queen Elwen had been as bright and honorable as her sons - "I take you for my husband. May our marriage be true."

"So may it be," Cor said, and then paused, letting silence seep into the sunlit afternoon instead of continuing the last set of promises.

"Is that it?" Bree asked. "Pretty enough, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing. Only, don't Calormene rituals go in threes?"

"They do," Aravis said, knowing exactly why Cor was hesitating. She squeezed his hands, her sword calluses rubbing against his, and switched the lead. "In the name of Aslan, I take you for my husband. May our marriage be strong."

She should have said Tash, but while she would always respect the god of war and vengeance, she had lost his favor when she gave allegiance to the lands of his enemies. Even if she had still held him as the king of all gods, it would feel wrong to swear by his power in Narnia, and the Lion was equally strong and fierce, his power more than enough to hold as a support. Aravis had taken Aslan for her liege in the wars of heaven and so she would make her future in his name. She would marry Cor by the ways of Calormen, but they belonged to Archenland too, now. It was fitting that she acknowledge that heritage in her vows.

Cor blinked, and then smiled, a small, private curl of his lips just for her. "So may it be," he said. "In the names of all the gods, I take you for my wife. May our marriage be forever." He raised their joined hands, sliding his fingers around to turn her hands palms upward, and kissed the soft inner skin of Aravis's wrists: a feather-brush of skin on skin, his breath to the pulse of her blood. His beard tickled across her open palms as he looked up into her eyes.

Aravis swallowed. "So may it be," she said.

She pulled; Cor came willingly. She met his breath with her own.

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AN: Thanks for reading, and please review! I appreciate all comments, but I'm particularly interested in knowing what parts of the story worked for you, what parts didn't, and why.

8/15/16: This chapter was edited during the process of finishing the story for the 2016 WIP Big Bang.