Okay, so as promised, whilst I'm still working away on the next chapter of my 'Brothers of Archenland' story, here's some light fun featuring Cor and Aravis quarrelling and making it up again.

The Island - Cor

Relief was the first emotion Cor felt as a looming shadow rose up in front of him.

His limbs were cold and weak and his whole body was aching. He wasn't sure how long he'd been clinging to this gnarled, splintered barrel, but if he never saw a barrel again, he'd be a happy prince.

Aravis clung to the barrel next to him, her hair matted against her face, her fingers digging into grooves in the wood.

"Aravis, look," said Cor. "I think that's land."

"Yes, I saw it," snapped Aravis. "My eyes are just as good as yours. Better even."

"Seriously," said Cor. "You want to do this again now?"

He supposed he shouldn't feel angry. He should feel relieved that they were both still alive, that they'd made it through the cold night, that there was a good chance they would make it safely back to land.

But all the emotions from before were still there, bubbling under the surface. And he couldn't honestly say that part of the reason he'd been so determined to keep himself awake all night wasn't just to prove a point.

Though he suspected Aravis may also have been staying awake to prove the same point.

Before the storm, back on the boat, they'd had the most heated argument Cor could remember. Aravis had said crown prince or not, he really wasn't all that and that she could best him at anything if she put her mind to it and he'd told her quite the opposite. In fact, he could best her at anything if he put his mind to it.

What followed had been a furious cooking challenge which the crew had been more than happy to indulge until they'd realised neither Aravis nor Cor were much good at being cooks. And then they'd raced each other up the rigging and Cor had won and Aravis had demanded a rematch because he must have been training or something. Then they had sparred on deck which had been declared a draw and then they'd played a memory challenge which Aravis had won.

By the time the storm hit, they'd barely been speaking to each other.

"We should start swimming again," said Cor back in the present.

Aravis glared at him.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" she muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Fisher's boy has to swim," said Aravis. "That is a massively unfair advantage."

"We are swimming for our lives," said Cor. "We don't have time for some silly argument."

"Silly was it?" said Aravis. "In that case, you can concede that I am better than you and we'll call the argument quits."

Cor adjusted his grip on the barrel. He could concede. What difference did it make when they were floating on a barrel in the middle of an ocean?

He met Aravis' gaze.

All the difference.

It made all the difference. That was the problem.

"You are not better than me," said Cor huffily. "So I'm going to start swimming and you can either swim with me or you can concede defeat by failure to partake in the challenge."

Aravis snorted.

"Stupid fisher's boy," she muttered, then started kicking her legs.

Cor kicked his legs too, still holding onto the barrel. She would understand eventually that he was perfectly good enough to be a suitor for her. Better than that stupid Lord Arigan of Narnia. And if Cor had to best Aravis at every activity under the sun to prove it, so be it.

There haven't been enough Cor and Aravis stories recently so this story is something to fill the gap. This one is 9 chapters so I'll be editing and updating one chapter every month until the whole story is fully posted.