Summary: After the death of King Lune, his two sons take some time to figure out what's truly important to them. Whilst Cor searches his heart for the answer to his emptiness, Corin searches the mountains for a reason to go on fighting.

So this is a quick story I'm going to be writing about Cor and Corin after their father's death.

After the Funeral

Cor held the eulogy he'd written out in front of him, hands shaking. He knew the words by heart, had memorised them last night when he could not sleep, but he was still afraid he'd forget something important. And today of all days, he would not forgive himself if he did.

"King Lune was a good man," he began. "A kind man. The father I only met when I was well into my life-"

His voice caught.

He hadn't thought he'd be giving this speech so soon. He'd always thought they'd have longer. He was barely nineteen, barely a man. And they'd only got six years together. After everything they'd gone through, after all the years they'd lost, it was a difficult truth to accept.

Cor looked out at the assembled crowd. How many of them had known Lune much longer than he had? How many years had each of them got? But he couldn't make out any faces through his tears.

Wiping them away, he looked back down at his parchment and forged on.

"He taught me the security of kindness and generosity. He taught me the calm that comes from standing up for what is right. But most of all, he taught me that love does not diminish with distance or with time or..." he looked down at the open coffin where his father's death mask stared up at the sky. "With death."

"We shall miss him dearly," continued Cor. "But we must not feel sorrow alone at his passing for he is with Aslan now and Aslan will watch over him and guide him in his new life. As is the way."

"As is the way," echoed the crowd.

There was a stifled round of sobs as the coffin bearers stepped forwards to take up their ropes. Cor glanced down at his father one more time, then with all the weight of thirteen lost years, he closed the lid and watched as the box was lowered into the ground.

As his father's heir, Cor was the first to perform the funeral rites. Hands trembling, he raked a handful of dirt from the dust cup and let it pour through his fingers onto the wood of the coffin.

It pattered softly, like the rain, like his tears. "Goodbye father," he said.

Corin stepped up next. Like Cor, he raked a handful of dirt from the dust cup. But then he threw it back into the cup. "No," he said. "I refuse to say goodbye." The crowd went deathly quiet.

Cor squeezed Corin's shoulder. "Brother, you must."

Corin scowled. This morning, he'd threatened to not come to the funeral at all, but Cor had managed to talk him round. Now, Corin looked around at the mourners and then seemed to decide this was not the moment because he dipped his hand back into the dust cup and let the earth rain onto their father's coffin.

He did not say goodbye. Cor's chest ached. Glaring at the crowd, Corin stalked away into the purple and white flowers of the meadow.

Cor gestured for the rest of the funeral attendees to continue with the rites and hurried after Corin. "Brother?" he said.

Corin slowed to a halt which Cor took as a sign it was safe to approach. He squeezed his brother's shoulder again, not sure what to say.

"I can't believe he's gone," said Corin after a moment.

"I know," said Cor. He glanced back over his shoulder to where their father's coffin was slowly being obscured by earth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

"But it's okay," said Cor. "He's with Aslan now. He's in a better place."

Corin shook his head. "I feel so lost," he said. "Why do we have to lose the people we love?"

Cor wished he had an answer. Corin had asked him the same question that morning and Cor still did not know how to respond. So he pulled his brother into a tight hug and tried to focus on this moment, the warmth of his brother's body, a reminder that although his father was gone, Corin was still with him and very much alive.

"We haven't lost him, anyway," said Cor after a moment. "Not really. He's waiting for us, just over the sea. You know that."

"But why?" said Corin. "Why did he have to die to go there? Why do we have to lose him? It's not fair." Corin's hands balled into fists and then relaxed like he realised it was pointless. There was no one he could fight to bring their father back.

"We'll see him again," said Cor, stroking his brother's back.

"But that's a whole lifetime from now," said Corin. "I don't want to wait that long."

He pulled away from the hug and Cor's stomach lurched.

"Where are you going?" said Cor.

"I just need some time, brother," said Corin.

Cor nodded. He wanted to follow, but he understood Corin did not want that so he watched wordlessly as his twin walked away across the green meadow, away from the mourning crowd and into the woods.

Corin had had a whole decade more with their father than Cor had had, but for Corin that still wasn't enough. But maybe no amount of time was enough with the people that you love. Maybe those extra thirteen years wouldn't have made Cor feel any better.

Why did it have to end like this?

Cor thought back to the day that he'd found out who he really was. Shasta, a runaway from Calormen. A scruffy boy with two horses and runaway bride. Suddenly a prince of Archenland. Heir to the throne.

With a father who loved him.

A hand touched his arm.

"How are you holding up?" said Aravis.

She was dressed sombrely today – black and purple – and her curly hair was draped over her shoulders. But she was wearing her signature Calormene trousers as though she was still the runaway bride he'd met in the forest that night.

Sometimes he wondered if he too was still the fisher boy despite all the years and all his fine clothes. He shook the thought away.

"I'm alright," said Cor. "I think."

"And Corin?" Aravis nodded to the line of trees where Corin's shape was just disappearing.

"I think he needs some time alone, to think about things."

They stared at the green-leafed trees around the meadow. A reminder that life was still all around them - vibrant and beautiful, even after a death.

"I'm sorry about your father," said Aravis and Cor knew she really meant it. "He was a good man. In some ways, he was like an uncle to me. There aren't many King's I know of who would allow an exile with little social or monetary power into their house as a protegée."

Cor nodded. In his peripheral vision, he saw the last of the funeral attendees drop their earth onto the coffin. The coffin itself was barely visible now.

"I owe your father more than I can say," said Aravis. "I owe him far more than my own father…"

She bit her lip and turned to stare at the trees again.

"You're a good friend Aravis," said Cor, linking his arm with hers.

She bristled - never a great fan of outward displays of sentimentality - but did not pull away. Because this was a funeral and now was a time for companionship.

"You and Corin, both," said Cor. "If you two weren't here, I don't know what I would do."

Aravis touched his elbow, resting her head against his shoulder.

Ahead of them, a bird flittered out from one of the trees and a soft, warm breeze rippled through the meadow. The flowers at their feet rustled and petals broke from their stems, streaming into the air. Purple and white petals dancing through the funeral crowd. A sign from Aslan, Cor realised. A sign that life went on and there was still so much to live for.

But Corin wasn't there to see it.

I hope you all enjoy it. Don't forget to review :)