After
Corin leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine. He felt the need to hit something, someone, despite still sporting a bruised rib from his last boxing match. He hadn't even known the fellow's name. Rolling his eyes at his own misery, he pushed himself out of his chair, a slight sway in his walk as he crossed the room to pour another cup. It had been ages since he had drank this much wine and, with the way he was feeling, he felt no need to stop any time soon.
His father, King Lune, had come to visit him earlier in the day. Corin loved seeing his father but there were only so many times he could endure his father's admonishments to "come out of your pout" and "turn your life around." Those words had been a frequent fixture in the Shadowlands - Archenland, Narnia, whatever it used to be called - and now in Aslan's Country Corin found he had even less patience for them.
Easier said than done, coming out of his pout and turning his life around. It was easier to just accept himself as is and go about eternity as he had gone about his previous life. Keeping to himself, soothing his anger with wine, and avoiding his past.
"Aslan's mane! When was the last time you cleaned in here?" Edmund's voice caught Corin off guard. He turned to see the king standing in the doorway, a disgusted look on his face.
"The maid's on vacation," Corin responded dryly. Edmund snorted but didn't comment any further. "What brings you so far from Cair Paravel, your majesty?"
"Can't a fellow visit an old friend without any reason?" Edmund asked. He picked up a book off the sofa and sat down, inspecting the book before placing it on a side table.
"I didn't know we were old friends," Corin muttered. He took a long drink of his wine.
"Fair. Okay, can't one king of Narnia visit another king of Narnia?" Edmund asked, raising an eyebrow as if daring Corin to push the subject.
Corin sat, leaning back in his chair. He waved a hand in the air, as if brushing away Edmund's words. "Are we really still kings? There are over a hundred kings and queens here now. What's the point in calling ourselves kings? We don't even have anything to be "king" of."
"Well, now I take offense to that," Edmund said. He straightened his jacket, brushing imaginary lint from his shoulder. "I happen to enjoy being called king."
"Perhaps that's because you were king during times of peace," Corin spat.
"Say now," Edmund said, his anger rising. "My siblings and I ruled through many periods of unrest. We continued to fight battles well after we took our thrones."
"Yes, but you had something we never did: hope. It didn't matter what you four faced while you ruled, there was always hope and Aslan around to keep Narnia at peace. When you left, you left us hopeless."
"How many times do we have to explain?" Edmund shot to his feet, his face darkening. Corin remained seated, taking another sip of his wine. "We never meant to leave! We didn't..." Edmund trailed off, sighing. "This isn't why I came here."
"Then do explain."
"My wife has recently become friends with your sister-in-law," Edmund began, returning to his seat.
"No surprise there. Aravis makes friends wherever she goes."
"Queen Aravis has told us how you hide here, how you've alienated yourself from your family. I was concerned. That's not the Corin I knew," Edmund said.
"The Corin you knew was a fifteen year old boy with a talent of getting himself into and out of scrapes," Corin retorted. "That Corin disappeared the second I took your throne."
Before
"Father, I'm only eighteen! I'm not yet ready to be married." Corin forced himself not to cross his arms over his chest the way he might have done in his younger years. He was a man now and, as his father constantly reminded him, "men do not pout like toddlers."
"Son," King Lune started, exasperated by the conversation. "In normal circumstances I would allow you your freedom a few more years. I would allow you time to enjoy your youth, to court many maidens, to sow your oats-"
"Father!" Corin interrupted, heat rising to his cheeks. Despite his reputation as being good with the ladies, he certainly didn't want to discuss sowing his oats with his father.
"Well, whatever it is you like to do," his father corrected. "My point is, in normal circumstances I would not insist upon your immediate betrothal. King Peridan's illness is progressing quicker than we anticipated and he leaves no direct heirs. The only way to secure the throne is to show a direct connection between the current king and the succeeding king. That, my boy, will be you. Your marriage to Peridan's niece will cement your succession."
"I never wanted to be king, Father," Corin said softly.
King Lune reached across the carriage and gave his son's hand a squeeze. Since the return of his son Cor, older than Corin by twenty minutes, his younger son had been free to relish life. While Cor was put through rigorous training to one day become king, Corin was left to throw off the shackles of heir and live his life the way he dreamed. He became a boxer, practicing his skill with whoever dared face him. In some ways Lune envied his son's freedom, hating that he must shorten that freedom considerably.
The Archenland caravan arrived at Cair Paravel shortly before twilight. Although their welcome was joyful, the inhabitants and the castle itself seemed solemn. The life Cair Paravel had once boasted had been snuffed out the day the Pevensie siblings disappeared. Corin and his father were led to a small office. Seated behind a dark wooden desk was a familiar face, aged from the burden placed on his shoulders and from the debilitating illness he had developed shortly after taking the throne.
"Welcome, King Lune. Welcome, Prince Corin," King Peridan exclaimed, embracing the king before clapping a hand on Corin's shoulder. "It is so good to see you both. Your presence makes me long for the simpler days when we defended Anvard from the Calormenes. I only wish you had both been able to visit on more joyful times."
"Bah," King Lune said, waving his hand and giving Peridan a wide grin. "What could be more joyful than the union of two young people? My son and I are most pleased to be here and are anxious to meet your lovely niece."
"So," Aravis said, dropping onto the sofa beside Corin. She rested her chin on her fist, smiling at him. "How was it?"
Corin groaned. He leaned his head back against the cushion and scrubbed a hand over his face. Meeting his future bride had been torture. The hours long dinner making idle small talk had been excruciating. The girl had been nice enough, fairly attractive, polite. There were worse women he could be married too. Married. The mere word made him groan again.
"Her name is Pen," he said.
"As in... horse pen?" Aravis asked, confused. He rolled his head towards her and gave her an aggravated look.
"No, as in pen. Like a swan. A girl swan."
"So is she beautiful? Swan-like? Has my Corin lucked out with his stranger bride?" Aravis's voice was teasing. Normally her teasing didn't bother Corin, but today it grated his nerves.
"Hardly," he said. He pushed himself up and refilled his empty wine glass. He held up the decanter, silently offering Aravis a glass. When he returned to his seat, he slumped down and threw his arm around his friend's shoulders. "She's not that bad to look at."
"Makes the wedding night better," Aravis interjected, giving Corin a wink.
"Don't be crass, Aravis," Cor said, coming into the room. He sat on the chair across from his brother and friend. She frowned at him.
"I'm not crass," she argued. "You're just a prude. We all know it's better to have someone nice to look at on a wedding night."
"I'm not a prude. I just don't know why you think the only thing necessary is looks. What about character?"
"I'm not saying character doesn't matter! I'd just rather look at someone handsome than someone pig-like when I'm in bed!"
"So if the man was pig-like but had an exceptional character you'd toss him aside for a handsome face with an empty head?"
Aravis let out a cry of frustration, throwing her hand up in annoyance. "You are twisting my words! I don't-"
"Would the two of you just go to bed together and give us all a rest from your petty arguing?" Corin interrupted loudly. He saw both of them blush and snorted a laugh. Cor and Aravis had fought constantly for years, their friendship so solid that even the angriest of fights ended in hugs and forgiveness. But lately their fights had become so laced with an undertone of desire that one good night together, in Corin's opinion, would end the fights for good.
"Can we please focus on me now?" Corin asked.
"Tell us about her," Cor prompted.
"She's..." Corin paused to search for the right word. "She's okay. Nice. Seemed intelligent enough. Unobtrusive. Innocent. Virginal."
"So in other words everything you love in a girl?" Aravis teased again. Corin poked her in the side before rolling his eyes.
"She's boring. I'm going to be married to the most boring girl in all of Narnia."
"He was horrible!" Pen announced, swinging her foil down in an arc. Her uncle Peridan's foil met hers, pushing her back. "Conceited! Boring! Dandy!" She emphasized each word with a swing of her blade.
"I've known him since he was a child," Peridan said. He held up a hand to indicate he needed a break. His illness made him weaker these days, easier spent than he was in his youth. "He's all those things, but he's a good boy. A good man. He's loyal."
"Loyal to himself probably," Pen muttered. She sank next to her uncle on one of the benches that lined the fencing room. Peridan placed a hand on her knee and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Loyal to Narnia," he corrected gently. "And soon loyal to you. The boy is not your father. He will not stray. I cannot promise you love, I cannot promise you a fairy tale. But I can promise you a good husband, a good future, and a good kingdom with both of you at its helm."
After
The bedchamber was closing in on her. The air was stifling. The room was dusty. With ever step she paced Pen wanted to scream. She hated being cooped up. It had been hours since she had been unceremoniously dumped into her old bedchamber, no one coming to bring her food or water or...
"Or to tell me what I'm actually doing here!" she yelled at the closed door. She knew no one would hear her. With a growl of frustration she resumed her pacing. Back and forth she moved, not caring if she was wearing a path in the faded yellow carpet. She kicked at it. The once warm yellow carpet had been a wedding gift. She hated it.
She had just turned to pace back when a glint of sunlight on the far dresser caused a tiny object to shine. Narrowing her eyes she stalked across the room. Her face hardened at the offensive object. A plain golden band sat, shiny in the light.
"You stupid thing," she hissed. "How dare you be here?"
"And here I thought you loved that ring."
The familiar voice made her spine stiffen, angry heat flooding through her. She turned slowly. Her husband stood in the doorway. Shiny and perfect, his clothing fashionably styled and fitting him so perfectly in every way that Pen wanted to scream in frustration because Aslan help her she still wanted him. There was something different about him though. His once lively eyes now looked tired, defeated. His fair hair had darkened and was longer than it had been, but was now dull and lifeless. He looked worn, aged, defeated. A pang of regret stabbed her in the heart. It was her fault.
"Hello darling," Corin said, giving her a grin she had always hated. Before she could think, she picked up the ring and threw it at his head.