Will you stay with me, will you be my love,
Among the fields of barley?
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky,
As we lie in fields of gold.
Lucy's POV
"Lucy, your cordial!" my sister cried as "her boy" crumpled to the sand, springing into action in spite of the remonstrances of her ladies-in-waiting. Even then, her quick reaction was not the fastest – Cor was at his brother's side almost instantly. Catching a glimpse of his frantic expression, I was instantly on my feet racing toward the Cair.
"Where did I last have my cordial, Tumnus?" I gasped to the dear faun attempting to move his middle-aged hooves at the same speed as my much-younger legs.
"Your quarters, Lucy," gasped Tumnus, forgoing formality in light of the circumstances. But he came to an instant halt as shouts issued from the lists, inclining his head to listen intently.
"What is it?" I cried in frustration as I came to a halt, listening to Tumnus curse "hot-headed Islanders" quite roundly.
"It sounds as if Tinuviel's friends have confronted the Archenlanders," he muttered. "Oreius!" he cried out to the passing general, who himself had been alerted to the situation. "We must head off Avra's allies and get the Prince to safety before more blood is spilt!"
"Yes General, I beg you!" My lips seemed to move on their own accord. "Don't let them touch my—don't let them harm Corin!"
The centaur inclined his head to Tumnus and turned his steely eyes to me. "Do not fear, my Queen," as he cracked his knuckles. "They won't get the chance." He then turned on his hooves and raced toward the lists. For a quick moment, I felt a flash of sympathy for any fool who dared to cross blades – or fists – with Narnia's leading warrior.
I found the cordial where Tumnus said it would be, on the lamp table next to my bed. My feet seemed to sprout wings and fly, and I arrived back at the lists well before Tumnus, leaving the wheezing and panting faun far behind me.
"Where is he?" I cried out to no one in particular when I reached out royal pavilion. No seemed to even realize I was there, which added to my frustration. "Please, can anyone tell me where Corin is?"
"Lucy!" I whirled to see Edmund making his way toward me.
"I have the cordial, Ed. Where's Corin?" My anxiety was getting the best of me.
My dear brother put his palms up and waited for me to stop fidgeting. Slowly, I did so, for Ed was very patient. "The Archenlanders took him to their camp tents. Susan is treating him there with Cor and Aravis. They could use the cordial – our young Prince was sliced up pretty handily."
My heart ached upon hearing that. "Are you coming with me?"
Ed laughed. "No, I must find Peter and make sure he hasn't had to kill any of the Islanders yet."
I groaned. "What happened?"
"Tinuviel's friends tried to fight Oreius. 'Twas the most foolish thing they could've attempted – our good general was using his fists as well as he uses a sword, smashing crowns left and right. Peter disarmed the hot-bloods, and I stood with Cor to ensure the Archenland knights didn't run any of them through. But enough chat – Susan's waiting for the cordial. Cor is most anxious…"
I instantly left my poor, patient, longsuffering, understanding brother in the middle of a sentence and raced (as fast I could in a gown) toward the Archenland encampment.
Boru, our faithful lists-keeper, saw me approaching from his post outside the Archenland Royal tent. The dear Talking Bear, who had one of the gentlest dispositions I have ever seen, was distraught that such treachery had almost occurred on his watch, and had taken it upon himself to guard with his life the young and universally-liked Archenland prince. He waved me over and escorted me to the entrance of the tent.
"The young Prince will be fine, will he not, my Queen?" said the good Bear, who was pacing and fidgeting with worry, anxiously looking at the famed cordial in my hand.
As desirous as I was to get inside and heal the Prince, my heart went out to this faithful and good-hearted subject. "Indeed he will be, good Boru. Aslan's healing is in this bottle, and Prince Corin will be made whole." I said as I laid my hand on his paw. His massive paw covered mine and he smiled with relief, nodding as he lifted the opening of the tent and ushered me inside to the waiting arms of Aravis.
"Praise Aslan you're here," Aravis whispered as she took my hands in her own. "A minute more, and the cordial would've been needed for both twins."
I took in the scene with a glance. Corin was in a cot, covered by bloodstained silk sheets. Susan was silently crying as her fingers ran gently through his hair, stroking his face, whispering words of endearment to the boy she loved as a son. Cor stood at the foot of the cot, and I could tell the emotional strain he was under was great. As I looked closer at Corin, my eyes filled with tears. He was still unconscious, and though the bleeding had ceased, he was pale from loss of blood. He was shirtless and the bed sheets only covered his waist and below – I could see the wounds inflicted on him, and though I had seen worse on the battlefields of Narnia, I had never imagined how horrid it would look on the body of a boy such as Corin.
All this for you…
I was startled by the thought, which had come to me with no warning. I shuddered, and it caught the attention of Cor. "Praise Aslan you've come," he said haltingly, echoing the sentiments of Aravis. "If we lost him…" and his voice, already thick with emotion, failed him there.
I placed my hand in his, touched by the obvious love one twin bore the other. "If you prop him up, Cor, a drop of cordial will heal him." I said reassuringly. "Will you help me?"
Cor nodded, blinked the unshed tears out of his eyes, went over to his brother, muttered "I'm still going to kill him for this once we're back in Anvard…" Susan stood, stepped out of his way, and he gently hooked his arms under Corin's shoulders, softly raising his body into a sitting position. I uncorked the bottle, and with the expertise of one who had done this countless times before, I placed two drops into Corin's mouth, where they dissolved and began working their divinely blessed healing.
"He is safe now." Susan said from her fixed position at Corin's bedside. "He must sleep and he will be weak for a time, but he is out of danger – for that, we can most assuredly praise the Lion."
"Praise the Lion indeed," came a deep voice behind us, and we turned to see a relieved Peter standing at the entrance of the tent. "I have seen grown men – warriors – perish from wounds such as were inflicted on our good prince and friend."
"Good of you to come, Peter," Susan whispered with gratitude.
"And why do you think he won't perish?" Cor asked, wanting reassurance that his brother had the inward capability to survive.
Peter walked over the cot where Corin lay, gazing down at the still-unconscious boy. "I have fought many wars and slain many men," he said quietly. "I have seen men and creatures give up and die after receiving one wound, yet I have still seen others fight on with half a dozen such injuries. It's in their eyes," the High King said. "You can see when a soldier believes so strongly in the cause for which he is fighting – they refuse to die, and you have to hack off limbs until they can go no further." He looked up to see Susan turn pale and his face went slightly red. "My apologies, Su."
Cor cut in. "What does that have to do with my brother?"
Peter's eyes turned to the Crown Prince, but I saw his gaze rest on me ever so slightly. "I saw a half-dead Prince of Archenland risk life and limb for his cause. If such is his mettle, then it will take much more than this to kill Corin of Archenland." He straightened up, his golden hair almost reaching the top of the spacious tent. "But I must be off. Despite the debacle on the lists, we still have a celebration at the Cair and 'twould not be good form for the High King of the hosting nation to be absent." As he passed by me, he slowed to caress my cheek. "He honored you today, Lu. I hope you count him worthy."
As Peter ducked under the expansive tent and strode away, my emotions boiled to the surface. My worry for the wounded Prince clashed with the strange sensation I'd been feeling about him ever since he kissed me by the Archen River. I was confused, troubled, not understanding how I truly felt about my once-dearest friend. I was angry, scared, mystified, and all these rushed to the forefront at Peter's words. As Susan, Cor, and Aravis all looked on me after hearing Peter's last words to me, my tension exploded, and I believe half of Narnia heard me scream.
"PETER!"
I can only imagine the complete halt my eldest sibling came to when he heard my shriek. As I stormed out of the tent in pursuit, his face contorted from confusion to surprise to genuine fear. "Lu, what-what is it?"
"HOW COULD YOU?!"
"How could I what, Lu?!"
"HOW COULD YOU, IN FRONT OF ALL THE WORLD, GIVE A HALF-GROWN BOY – A HALF-GROWN BOY, PETER! – YOUR PERMISSION TO COURT ME?!"
"I didn't give him the right to court you, Lu! I gave him permission to ask you for that rig-"
"HE'S A BOY, PETER! AND YOU HAVE MADE ME THE LAUGHINGSTOCK OF THE WORLD, THANKS TO A FOOLISH, HARDHEADED BOY AND YOUR IDIOTIC ACCEPTANCE OF HIS FOOLISH ENDEAVOR ON OUR LISTS!" I was getting hysterical, and we were attracting a lot of attention. "HOW COULD Y-"
"ENOUGH!"
Peter NEVER raised his voice with his sisters or EVER pulled rank on us (he knew the retributions we would pile on him if he ever dared), but when he DID and in such a fashion, even we knew to be silent before Narnia's High King. It spoke volumes of Peter's authority when one word from his mouth turned an outraged Queen into a quiet, meek girl.
"I never want to hear you say such a thing again." My brother said quietly, showing admirable restraint against a girl who had probably come close to deafening him.
I could handle an angry, shouting Peter, but a Peter who was quiet, calm, yet obviously disappointed in me always threatened to bring the tears out of me. "I shouldn't have called you an idi-"
"I wasn't talking about myself, Lu." Peter broke in gently. "Aslan knows I wonder every day why He crowned this idiot at all, let alone made him High King of Narnia. No, I was speaking of Corin. I don't EVER want you to call such a lad a 'foolish, hardheaded boy' again."
There were many times in my life I should have remained silent (and didn't) after Peter spoke. This was one of those times.
"But how COULD you, Peter?! How could you give a half-grown boy that right to ask a Queen for her hand? How can you be so hard-head-"
"That was NOT a 'half-grown boy' I saw on the lists this day, Lu!" Peter was now visibly irritated. "Is that what you saw? Then let me tell you what I saw, Lucy Pevensie – I saw a youth take his life in his hands to prove to the world that his love for a Queen was real and genuine. I saw that lad overcome treachery that threatened to rob him of his life. I saw a half-dead boy stand before me – how he was standing at all is beyond my comprehension – and ask me straightforward for my permission to allow him to ask you for your hand. And you expect me to turn him down?!" Peter shook his head in exasperation. "How could I, Lu? He earned the right to stand before me today and every day hereafter. He EARNED it, Lu! With his own blood, some of which still stains the sands of our lists, that boy proved himself worthy!" Peter stepped back, composed himself, adjusted his sword belt. "I have nothing more to say except this: I have known Corin of Archenland most of his life. And regardless of what men say of me or him hereafter, regardless if you scorn his advances, regardless if he becomes a laughingstock for daring to try and love a Queen or if I become a laughingstock for allowing him to try, I will NEVER regret my decision to give such a Prince my blessing!"
And with that, Narnia's High King and my eldest brother turned on his heel and strode back to Cair Paravel, leaving a duly chastened sister behind him.
…
…
Thank Aslan for Tumnus.
The thought crossed my mind multiple times as I watched our loyal Councilor and most trusted advisor handle with grace and discretion the prying questions of curious foreign nationals regarding the repercussions of the events on the lists. The faun was the master of diplomacy and could answer a question – without answering it at all – with the best of them. He was quite skilled at his craft, and foreign dignitaries were satisfied with the (non)answers our dear Tumnus gave them.
Edmund had persuaded Susan to leave Corin's bedside and return to the Cair for the feast, and with her she brought Cor, Aravis, and the nobles of their kingdom to partake of the joys of the evening. Due to my sister's natural abilities as a hostess, the Archenlanders soon got over their feelings of awkwardness and were enjoying themselves immensely. Peter was in all his glory, arguing political theory with intellectuals from Narnia and other nations or reenacting various campaigns along with Oreius and his generals using tableware – much to the consternation of our longsuffering kitchen staff – demonstrating to foreign visitors the might of Narnia's military power.
All in all, the night was progressing quite nicely. The ballroom was decorated lavishly, the music was lovely, spontaneous dancing had already broken out, the wine was flowing, the food was perfection itself, the conversation spanned every topic known to intelligent beings, and all was at peace and enjoyment. Susan was the belle of the ball, Edmund was king of the dance floor, and Peter was proving to all why he was High King – he even seemed to forget our confrontation several hours prior, treating me with all courtesy and kindness. Aye, the Narnian monarchs were in their element tonight.
All except one.
And that one was I.
As soon as all of my personal greetings were extended to the foreign visitors and their families, I knew I had to escape. Not to my room, not to one of the Cair's many guest rooms, but away from the palace itself.
I drained the contents of my wine glass in a very un-Queenly like manner (which no one seemed to notice, thank Aslan), and very subtly maneuvered my way toward the Cair's nearest exit, smiling and making brief small talk with all who came across my path. As soon as I reached the door and my temporary escort, a Duke of Galma (whose name escapes me even now), kissed my hand, I was gone like a wisp of wind.
Through the corridor I ran for the open air, and thankfully no one came across my path. I soon found myself in the courtyard – a few paces more, and I was out in the open countryside, briskly walking away from the Cair and the town that had sprung up by the harbor shortly after our coronation. If Susan ever noticed I was gone, I knew she would not be happy – but oh, how much I needed to be away from all the hustle and bustle, to be able to breathe in the Narnian air, to feel the Narnian breeze, and to just think.
For thinking was precisely what I needed to do, though the one on whom my thoughts lingered brought only confusion to my mind.
Who is Corin? And who is he to me?
These questions haunted my every footstep that led me further away from the Cair. I had loved Corin for years as my closest friend apart from my family, and admittedly had never assumed he would ever think of me as anything else. I had been angry with him when he kissed me a year previously by the Archen River, angered by his rashness and yet confused in my own soul. Was it only anger I felt? What was – what is - this confusion in my heart, when I looked in his eyes that day? Did I regret that he kissed me, or did I…just maybe, did I regret that he was too young?
But all young men grow up. And indeed, as Peter said, it was no child I had seen fighting for his life on our lists this afternoon.
He had grown from an adorably cute little boy to a very handsome prince – even I, at six years his senior, noticed his attractiveness (as any healthy young woman would). I thought of the looks he must receive from the girls in Anvard – and dear Aslan, what is this jealousy I feel at thinking of other women desiring him?!
All this for you…
The thought came again, and I groaned aloud at its return. I saw again the broken body of Corin lying on his cot, and my anger and confusion sped away from me. In its absence came the reminder that he was still my friend whom I had always loved dearly, and an overwhelming desire to see him again rose up in me. My feet turned to wings and flew, and I raced (in a quite unseemly fashion) toward the Archenland encampment and the Prince.
I slowed to a walk as I approached the tents, not wanting to give anyone the chance of gossiping that Queen Lucy had been sprinting across Narnia. The Archenland encampment was sparsely guarded by men-at-arms, and the sentry merely waved me through as I passed him. I made my way to the center of the encampment, was touched to see Boru still standing guard outside the Royal pavilion, silently keeping watch over the young Archenland royal.
"Still standing watch, good Boru?" I asked, "Come, away with you to the Cair, where Her Majesty my sister will see you wined and dined!"
The good Bear tried to hide it, but could not keep me from seeing the wistful look in his eyes as he gazed at the Cair in the distance. "Very kind of you, Your Majesty, to offer it," he said.
"You have done our allies good service today – yet you are weary, Boru. Take your leave, the Prince is quite safe."
Boru stifled a yawn, his weariness not allowing him to say anything to the contrary. "As you wish, milady" he said, and with a final salute, the Bear ambled towards the sounds of cheer and laughter drifting from the great ballroom of Cair Paravel.
I ducked under the tent canvas, allowing my eyes to adjust to the scene. Vase candles had been lit, and the expansive tent was glowing with light. Corin was sleeping on the cot, his features more at peace than when I had last seen him, and the light from the candles gave a healthy hue to the color of his skin. A chair was beside his bed, and I could see Cor's sword belt hanging from its back. Cor had by all accounts been hard-pressed to leave his brother's bedside to come to the Cair. The devotion of one twin to the other was touching, and I almost remained standing, not wanting to disturb in some way a testament to brotherly love.
But sit I did, taking in the sight of a slumbering Corin at peace. The cordial had already worked its blessed healing, for Corin looked much better than he did hours earlier. All our good times together rushed back to me, and I smiled as I recalled joyous hours spent with my dearest friend. I began to imitate Susan, caressing his face as he softly breathed. "You're forgiven, dear one." I whispered my absolution of his rash action by the Archen River the year before.
"That's reassuring," came from his lips, and I barely suppressed a shriek as I scrambled to my feet in surprise. His eyes opened, and my surprise turned to indignation at the twinkle within them. "You…you…" I sputtered, searching for an appropriate epitaph. "Lout," I finally decided. "That's what you are, Corin of Archenland!"
"Compared with other names I've been called, that is rather mild," he said quietly and with a wink, still reclining on his cot.
"You're fortunate." I said with mock petulance
"So are you," he said with a pointed look, pulling out (to my surprise) a longknife from under his sheets. Seeing my startled expression, he explained. "I thought you were one of Tuniviel's friends coming to finish me off…thank Aslan you said something."
"Gracious!" I was grateful as well. "Forgive me for frightening you."
"You didn't." Corin was being courteous, I was sure of it. "But after humiliating a Duke in front of all the world, one must be somewhat cautious when an unidentified person enters his tent."
"Indeed," I concurred, as I reclaimed my seat, intent on trading blow for verbal blow. "For the Corin I once knew would not have stopped to identify the object of his deadly intentions, as the Anvard Keep baker once discovered." I said with a wide grin.
He laughed – I had forgotten how charming his laughter was. "Oh, for the love of the Lion," he said through his laughter. "That longsuffering man. How patient and understanding he was after having his fingers smashed by a dough-beater!" The youth on the cot chortled on, clutching his chest. "Oh, by Aslan's mercy," he gasped. "Don't make me laugh, Lucy – your cordial healed the cuts, but left the soreness behind!"
I tried to be understanding to his plight, I truly did. But the look on his face only made me laugh alongside him, and it seemed like all the awkwardness of the past year disappeared with the breeze. Once we both got our humor under control and were resting and regaining our breath, Corin still lying on his cot, myself seated beside him, he turned his head and looked into my eyes. "Good to have you back, Lu," he said softly, and I could tell he was not just referring to my physical proximity.
I smiled, reaching down to gently take hold of his hand with mine. "Good to have you back as well," I said with genuine feeling. "How long have you been awake?"
"Long enough to hear Boru depart. Has he truly been standing watch all this time?"
I nodded, smiling. "He was ashamed that Tinuviel tried to commit treachery on his lists. Not one individual entered this tent without his knowledge and permission."
Corin shook his head in wonder. "Such is the generosity of Narnia to her allies. I shall thank him personally when I have the chance. I suppose I should have done it some time ago."
"You needed to rest!" I was starting to sound like Susan.
"I did that, thanks be to your cordial." His eyes took on a more serious gaze. "As the day grew older, I needed time to think more than rest."
I squirmed a bit, knowing internally what he was thinking about, knowing that we could not avoid the topic much longer, that though our friendship was intact once again we still had to confront the events of today and their implications. "I needed time to think as well. 'Tis why I'm here instead of the Cair."
He smiled. "We've never normally been ones to think long, have we?"
"Amazing what a kiss will do," I replied with a sly grin and a pointed look of my own.
"About that," It was Corin's turn to squirm. "I'm sorry."
His embarrassed expression had me laughing softly. "No no, I'm quite alright with it now. You ARE forgiven, dearest friend," echoing my first words in the tent.
He nodded his thanks, but was silent for a time, his breathing the only sound I could hear. "Does that forgiveness also extend to what I did on the lists this afternoon?" he finally asked.
The question surprised me. "Do you honestly think you need forgiveness for that?"
"I think only you can answer that question." He was right, of course. "For all I know, you could've wanted Tinuviel's attentions."
Why did I ever have to meet that reprehensible Duke at all? "I was going to turn down Avra's advances, so you saved me the time and effort of having to do so myself."
"Glad I accomplished something good out there…" he muttered, his voice trailing off. But his unspoken words could not have rung louder in my mind, "Are you going to refuse me the same way you would have done with him?"
Who is Corin, and who is he to me? There it was again. Instead of escaping the question, it seemed that Aslan had decided for me to confront it immediately. The one question that had been closest to the forefront of my mind suddenly found its way to my lips. "Corin, what were you trying to accomplish out there? Why did you risk everything – and in such a manner – for me?" I had to know, and the sooner I knew the better. "I don't think I quite understand, and I will not be at peace until I know."
He sighed – then he told me, plainly and without reservation, as his voice dropped low. "Because I love you, Lucy Pevensie, and no longer as just a friend." His eyes were fastened on mine, his voice growing husky with emotion. "I thought I could hide it since that day I kissed you, and Aslan knows I've tried. But when Tinuviel declared himself-" and here he paused, regaining his composure. "I had to try. I knew I could fail, and I think I even expected to, but the only regret I ever would've had is if I'd never tried to prove my love to you in such a way." His words were spilling out like an onrushing tide. "I am not ashamed of what I've done this day, Lucy Pevensie, and I never will be...but neither will I blame you or think less of you if you refuse me. I know my limitations – I'm a prince, you're a queen. I'm a youth, you're a woman – but the hope was and still is in me that out of this unworthy lad Aslan can create a man worthy of you, worthy of your love, worthy of your heart. Thus I'm asking you, Lu," and he pulled himself up 'til he was sitting straight up in his cot, grimacing from the soreness in his joints, and gently took my hands in his. "I don't have the strength yet to stand in your presence and ask you properly, but I ask you still, if you would receive my hand in courtship." His tone was in earnest, but his voice was soft, and my eyes were brimming at the depth of his passion. "If not," and his words threatened to cause my eyes to overflow, "I will never think less of you or be any less of a friend to you than I have always been, and my fondness for you will never change. But if you do consent to accept my suit, then know that I will live only for Aslan, Archenland, and Lucy of Narnia, that I will live to be worthy of you all my days, and that it would be my joy to be married to a jewel like that of the youngest Queen of Narnia." My eyes were overflowing by then, and I was crying silently and unabashedly, my hands still fastened in his. "So tell me, Lu-of-my-heart," and my tears flowed anew at the sound of his childhood pet name for me, "what answer do you give to Corin of Archenland?"
Oh Aslan, how was I to respond? I had thought I was prepared to refuse him, then discovered that I was unsure. Now I knew for certain that I could refuse Corin nothing on this night.
Dearest Peter, my wise brother, you were right.
This was no boy before me. This was a young man who knew exactly who and what he wanted, and had risked his life for the chance to attain it. Now I understood what Peter meant – Corin had indeed honored me on this day. His passion, his maturity, his humility, and his obvious deep love for me struck me and touched me deeply…and for the first time I was willing to say that yes, I was actually considering taking young Corin of Archenland as my suitor.
It took a while, but I finally controlled my emotions, removing my hands from his and drying my eyes, though secretly wanting all the while to feel his touch. I was utterly unsure if it would ever work out between us, if in the process of seeking and perhaps failing to find true love with each other our friendship would be destroyed, but as I looked into his eyes, I too found that I was willing to try.
And when I finally replied, I felt no regret or shame as I took his hands in mine.
"Yes."
Corin blinked.
"Yes, Corin of Archenland," and the tears began threatening again. "Lucy, Queen of Narnia, is" and emotion threatened to cut off my voice "deeply honored by your actions on her behalf to win her favor," Corin's lips parted, and his mouth was hanging open, scarcely believing his own ears "and she accepts your suit and is deeply committed in return" and here I stopped using the official court language "to try alongside you, to try and love you like you love me, to become worthy of such a magnificent prince." Corin had clamped his mouth shut, but had a solitary tear coursing down his chiseled face, which threatened to be the blissful undoing of me as I saw the tremendous happiness and joy in his countenance. "Yes Corin, I accept you, and I am so incredibly happy to do so."
And then I did something no ordinary queen would have done (but I was no ordinary queen) – I leaned in, and gently pressed my lips to his.
Oh, how this would have been a scandal – but oh, how I didn't care. Not tonight.
Corin stiffened (never would he have expected this from me), but soon I felt him relax, and he softly returned my kiss. I began to pull away, not wanting to act too wanton, but he refused to release me, grinning rakishly as he kissed me in return, placing light kisses on my admittedly cooperative lips. His hands slid from mine, his left caressing my hair, his right stroking my cheek. I mirrored his actions, one hand softly tracing his jaw and the other smoothing his hair, all this time returning his kisses with more of my own. And all was bliss.
But breathing is a requirement for mortal humans, and so our light kisses ended for good (and much too soon). I knew I had to return to the Cair, to prepare for the morrow's proclamation that Corin, Prince of Archenland and Lucy, Queen of Narnia were courting. And so I bid my best friend and suitor goodnight, kissing his cheek and whispering my farewell with a promise to return in the morning. He smiled in return, and I fell in love with his smile so much more than I ever had before.
He never told me that he didn't sleep at all that night. And I never told him that I ran on the wings of the wind back to Cair Paravel, my heart singing within me all the while.
