Alright, Aravis this time. Previous chapters of most relevance were 19: Cor and 17: Aravis. Thank you as always to Le Faucon Bleu and PadrePedro for your reviews and thank you to Heyna Blackstar. I managed to get this one edited faster than I expected so here we go. Enjoy :)

The Cellar

Aravis felt heavy as she hurried back into the castle. She thought Shasta might be saying something, but she ignored him. And she thought maybe he was trying to follow her, but Lord Dar stepped in front of him, talking quickly about propriety and duty and expectations.

Aravis didn't want Shasta to follow her anyway. She was barely managing to stay away from him as it was and that was when she didn't feel weak and small. She made her way swiftly along the corridors of the ground floor and then as she reached the staircase that led to the lower floors, she started to run.

It was such a familiar route by now that she barely had to think.

She should have expected this really. Or something like this, but her head had been so full of Lune's passing and Merene's predicament and Corin's disappearance and Shasta's proposal that she hadn't had time to think about the Calormenes. She'd agreed to meet them when Trel had asked because she would never not fulfil her duties and she thought Shasta might need her there for moral support.

She wouldn't have to say anything to him, just be there so she'd thought it would be okay. She'd been so stressed about Shasta, it hadn't crossed her mind that the Calormenes would pull something like this.

As she reached the second food cellar, she pushed open the heavy wooden door and ducked inside. It was dark down here, the only light spilling in through the open door but it was warm and it was safe.

She doubted Ahoshta or any of the Calormenes would ever think to come down here to look for her.

She shuddered, tucking herself in between two barrels of wine and a crate of spices. The look Ahoshta had given her on the steps had made her skin crawl. She'd hated him as a child, but she hated him even more now.

She pulled her knees up to her chest.

She would be okay. She just needed to calm down and get her feelings under control. All of her feelings. She was letting them dominate her and that was always a disaster.

She remembered days back in her father's house when her stepmother would tell Aravis that her posture was all wrong or her needlework was full of mistakes. If Aravis got angry or threw her needlework across the room, she would be sent to her room with no supper.

So she'd learnt to get angry quietly when no one was looking. To toss her needlework in the fire 'by accident' when she was alone. To toss her stepmother's needlework in the fire 'by accident' too. There was nothing particularly honourable about the petty revenges Aravis had taken, but they had made her feel better and when she had to face her stepmother's criticisms again, she felt stronger, calmer, more in control.

Maybe it was because Aravis had become so calm that her stepmother had organised the marriage to Ahoshta. Just to get under Aravis' skin. Or perhaps it made no difference in the end. Perhaps she would always have been destined for Ahoshta.

Aravis shook her head, tears squeezing past her lashes. It wasn't even that she cared so much about Ahoshta. So long as she could stay out of his way, she thought she'd be okay. He could do little to her here. No, it was Shasta who bothered her most. Shasta was the real problem.

At that moment a shadow fell into the gap at the cellar door and Aravis looked up. It was long, male, probably a servant. But what if it was Ahoshta? What if it was Shasta? She didn't know which would be worse.

No, actually she did know. In theory, she could smash her fist into Ahoshta's face, but she could do nothing against Shasta.

"Aravis?" asked the soft voice of the new King of Archenland.

She sat as still as she could, steadying her breathing as her tears threatened to redouble their efforts. She was hidden from the door by the barrels and if she was lucky she would stay that way.

How had he found her? And then she remembered she'd told him about sitting in the cellar by herself when her father had died. She shouldn't have told him that. She hadn't been thinking straight.

"Aravis?" said Shasta again. His feet padded into the room.

She couldn't let him find her. She was weak and there were tears drying sticky on her cheeks and if he touched her now – if he did anything at all – she wasn't sure she would have the strength to keep her promise to Lune.

She squeezed further into the gap between the spice crate and the barrels of oil. There was an empty potato sack a metre away. If she could just pull that in front of her…

But before she could even move towards it, Shasta's form stepped into the aisle she was hiding in and his gaze found hers. She looked away hurriedly away, hoping the dim light would obscure the shininess of her eyes.

"Aravis," he said, though it was more like a sigh this time.

She shook her head, swallowing hard to get her voice under control.

"You have duties to attend to, your majesty," she said.

Shasta looked like she'd slapped him. He sunk to his knees in front of her. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine," said Aravis. Her voice was grainy.

"I didn't realise they would send Ahoshta," said Shasta. "I'm sorry. I would never have allowed Trel to ask you to greet them if I'd known."

"It's fine," said Aravis, waving a hand and staring at the crate of spices because she was afraid that if she looked at Shasta, he would see her tears. She was afraid that if she looked at Shasta, he'd see the longing on her face.

"You're hiding in a food cellar," Shasta pointed out.

"Hiding?" scoffed Aravis, though frustratingly, it came out as a sniffle. "I am not hiding. I was just getting spices."

Shasta raised an eyebrow. "The Calormenes make me feel small too," he said.

She met his gaze. He was leaning slightly towards her, his knees either side of her feet and in the calm air of the cellar, she could smell him. He smelt like horses and leather and apples. This was dangerous.

Shasta placed a hand on her knee.

"I've put them in the West Wing," he said. "Far far away from both of us."

Aravis nodded. Her eyes stung again and she looked away.

"I hate him," said Aravis, surprising herself. Shasta had a way of making her tell him things she didn't intend to – things he never even asked. "I hate my father and my stepmother for trying to make me marry him. I hate the Tisroc for sending him here."

Shasta nodded, squeezing her knee.

"You will never be forced back to Calormen, Aravis," he promised. "Not whilst there is breath in my body."

And suddenly she could not hold back her tears any longer.

They gushed down her cheeks, her accompanying sobs escaping in gasps. It was undignified. It was snotty and weak and… Shasta pulled her gently out of the hiding hole, draping her arms around his shoulders. She hated herself for crying. She hated herself for not protesting to Shasta holding her like this.

She hated that her chest ached for him. For his words. For the type of love she'd always imagined she would have as a child even when they told her she could not because she was a Tarkheena and there were greater concerns in marriage than love.

She hadn't wanted to believe it then.

She didn't want to believe it now.

She'd thought Archenland would be different and perhaps it was for the farmers and the servants and perhaps even the guards. But for a King of Archenland, there were expectations. She sobbed harder. Shasta just cradled her head against his neck.

"You know when I was a girl, I used to dream of having some great romance," mumbled Aravis. "Like in the best stories." A warning voice in her head told her to stop talking. Stop talking now. But she wasn't going to ask him to marry her. She just wanted to tell him something of how she was feeling. Even if she couldn't explain about legal precedents and court expectations, and her promise to Shasta's own father.

"I always suspected you were secretly a romantic," said Shasta. He was smiling faintly. She could feel the pull of his cheek against her forehead. But there was something else in his voice too. Something like confusion. Or chagrin. Or fear.

"Everyone told me I couldn't," she said. "That I should be so lucky to marry the Grand Vizier, a sixty-year-old man."

Shasta brushed her hair away from her face and squeezed her tighter. She wanted to stay here forever. Away from the court, away from the Calormenes, away from expectations and eyes and power games.

Just her and her fisher boy.

Just him and his runaway bride.

But those were dangerous thoughts.

Selfish thoughts.

Weak thoughts.

"I should go," mumbled Aravis. "I shouldn't talk to you about this."

Shasta's muscles tensed, but he didn't relinquish her and she didn't relinquish him. "It's okay," he said. "I don't mind."

"But I can't Shasta," said Aravis. "You don't understand."

He took a heavy breath and she felt his chest expand against hers. "Aravis, if this is about what I said in the library–"

"No," squeaked Aravis. "We can't talk about that."

She'd barely done the right thing last time. And she hadn't been crying all over his Kingly regalia that time.

She tried to pull away and Shasta let her go. Cor. She had to call him Cor. King Cor. Not Shasta. Not her fisher boy.

Their faces were inches apart. This was worse than the cuddling, Aravis decided, because they could not hide their eyes from each other and she could see a longing in his eyes that matched the longing in her stomach.

Her resolve was the only thing keeping them apart right now and it was a frayed and lifeless thing.

"We should talk about it," said Cor. "There's no use avoiding it. You know, don't you? You know I wasn't joking when I said–"

"Don't say it," said Aravis.

Don't ask me again. Or I might say yes and that wouldn't be good for either of us.

"I can accept you rejecting my marriage proposal Aravis," said Shasta. "But I don't want this distance between us. We haven't spoken for days. I've been avoiding you and I think you've been avoiding me too and its stupid. We're grown adults. We can talk about this like grown adults."

Aravis shook her head.

"I have duties to attend to," she said.

Shasta caught her arm. "Can you tell me at least why?" he said. "Do you not think of me that way?"

She wanted to disappear. She wanted to evaporate like smoke. She wanted to take his jaw in her hands and press her lips against his.

"Is there someone else?" asked Shasta.

Aravis shook her head. "There's no one else," she said.

"Then you are simply not in love with me?" said Shasta. Aravis said nothing. "Do you think you might fall in love with me if I courted you properly?"

"Shasta, you cannot ask me such things," she said. "You cannot do such things."

"Why not?" he said. "I am the King of Archenland. I can court whoever I like."

Aravis closed her eyes. This was exactly why Lune had made Aravis promise not to marry Shasta and not the other way around.

"Shasta…" she mumbled.

He sighed.

"I understand," he said. He brushed her hair behind her ear with a sad smile. "I won't push you."

And Aravis knew this was it. If she said nothing, he would let her go. It would be hard for him, but he would let her go. Archenland would get a more suitable Queen in a few years. An Archenlandish noblewoman. Someone the Lords would approve of. Someone the people would love. Someone Shasta too would love.

Cor.

He would be Cor to his new Queen.

Aravis concentrated on her fingers on Shasta's elbows. She forced herself to remove them one by one and Shasta looked like she was taking strips of his heart with her as she did.

But she had to do this.

She had to be strong. She had to walk away from her feelings. For both their sakes.

And she was good at walking away from her feelings.

But then she looked up into Shasta's eyes. His blue, blue eyes.

And perhaps it was the deep longing mirroring hers. Perhaps it was the visions of him marrying someone else. Perhaps it was simply that he was too close and she was too weak.

But instead of stepping back, she leant forwards.

And she kissed him.

And it only took 38,000 words…