Well, I didn't plan on writing for this (I usually write Sherlock Holmes), but when the plot bunny waves...

Prompt 2: Living gold

One touch. Just one touch, and it would be over.

She watched Him pad slowly closer, apparently never noticing her wretched form hidden in the archway. He so rarely made an appearance in Anvard that the crowd around Him filled the hall. He would be leading the throng toward a nearby courtyard to teach, to visit.

To heal those that asked.

Unworthy. She was unworthy. She had not known Him in childhood, had not even heard His Name until her thirtieth year, when the Tarkaan that had called himself her husband had abandoned her in Anvard. The Archenlanders were kind, and she would far rather be here than in that dark, dirty city she had called home for so many years, but none of them had been able to help her. None of them had been able to cure the reason Arshish had left her behind.

Cured or not, she would never go back to him, but could she bring herself to go to Him?

The hall echoed with the voices of the crowd, each person wanting to speak to Him, touch Him, be near Him. He accepted it all easily, placing a Lion's kiss on the forehead of a young girl before speaking some truth, some comfort to the castle's youngest—and newest—widow. All could go to Aslan without fear.

But the Archenlanders had served Him for years. Generations. She had served Tash until even he had deserted her, too.

She did not deserve the healing that lived in that golden mane.

"Aslan!"

The frantic voice preceded the young man sprinting toward them, pushing through the throng.

"Aslan, please." The man hit his knees before the Great Lion, head bowed low. "My daughter—"

He could not continue, but there was no need. Aslan nudged the man upright, catching the father's worried gaze.

"Do I need to come with you?" the Great Lion asked.

The man quickly shook his head, mute though the pleading in his face spoke for him, and Aslan's expression softened.

"Well done," He rumbled. "Go to her."

Immense joy flooded the young father's expression, and he unashamedly threw his arms as far around Aslan's neck as he could reach before bolting back the way he had come. Word would come of his daughter's healing within minutes, she knew.

That still did not answer her question, however. Could she do that?

Not ask. She could not ask as he did, could not allow every eye in the area to focus on her. Archenlanders were kinder than Calormenes, but she still met wary gazes and fearful movements everywhere she went. Many were too afraid of becoming like her to see what they did to her every time they shied away.

So she could not fall at His feet, could not ask in front of the crowd, but one touch would do the same thing. The slightest brush of paw, mane, or tail would heal her completely, and He would be free to listen to the others as she slipped away, unnoticed by all but the One that could heal her. He would not deny her healing, though she could not imagine He would want her any more than anyone else did.

Could she accept the healing, unworthy though she was? She would have to decide soon.

That was why she had hidden in the archway. Here was her greatest chance, if she chose to take it. In this one spot, He would have to lead the crowd instead of being part of it. None could pass Him in this narrow opening.

She readjusted as He came closer, waiting for the moment, watching as even the woman walking at His side fell in behind Him, counting the steps until He would be within reach. Could she do it?

Yes. None noticed the small, misshapen hand lightly brush that golden mane. No one even looked at her when she gasped, feeling her energy return as pain receded and deformity straightened. Years of pain eased in an instant, and, caught in the utter relief that came from its absence, she failed to note when a Presence stopped in front of her.

"Daughter of Eve."

She looked up, her breath leaving her in a rush as that majestic gaze met hers. She immediately fell to her knees, eyes on His paws.

"Aslan," she breathed. "Thank you."

Gasps of surprise came from the gathered crowd as they recognized her, but she paid them no heed as a Lion's kiss brushed her forehead.

"All who come to Me are Mine," He told her, "no matter their history."

She lifted her eyes in surprise. "But—"

"All who come to Me are Mine, Dear One."

He wanted her!

He smiled as the wonder filled her face. "Come." He turned, glancing back once to be sure she understood, and she joined the crowd behind Him.

They welcomed her, but she had eyes only for the One who had welcomed her first.

Perhaps Archenland could become home after all.

Hope you enjoyed :)