archenland / year 1014
word count: 1,062
xXx
Cor pulled his hands out of his pockets and shook the snow from his hair as he stepped into the thick, piney warmth of Anvard's great hall, fires and lamps blazing orange against the blizzard outside.
Corin tumbled in after him, slamming into his shoulder and knocking a small avalanche of snow down his front.
"Oof, get off."
"There she is," said Corin as if he hadn't heard, pointing across the room to a group of girls talking on the far side of the central hearth.
"Yes, I have eyes." Cor shrugged his brother off and shot him a warning look, but Corin only grinned and skipped off across the room, as if he were seven instead of seventeen. "Hey, wait—"
Aravis turned from her friends to glance over at the twin princes, and Cor hurried to catch up as she stepped aside to greet them.
"Well, where've you two been?" she asked as he pulled up short beside Corin, the girl's sharp eyes flicking over their disheveled cloaks and snow-caked boots with an air of faint amusement.
"Cor got you a present," Corin blurted before Cor could even catch his breath, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.
Aravis raised a dark brow. "Oh?"
"It's hardly a present," shot back Cor hurriedly, but then glanced around and sighed, stuffing his hand into his pocket and pulling out a shiny red apple. "It was the last day at the southern market, so, I figured you'd want one. You know, as a friend."
She eyed him skeptically, but took the apple from his outstretched hand, turning it over in clever brown fingers. "This isn't poisoned, is it?"
"Hey, it's from me, not him."
She glanced between them before conceding with a slight shrug. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," said Cor.
Corin stuck his thumbs in his pockets and glanced around the hall, buzzing with a hundred scattered conversations as castle people milled about in their hour before dinner. "They've been decorating," he mused, and nodded to the walls hung all with winter greenery.
"Yes," said Aravis, "isn't it lovely?"
Corin giggled.
"What's so funny?" asked Cor, tearing his eyes away from the delicate braids twisting through Aravis' frizzy hair.
Corin pointed to a woven garland stretching up and down the nearest wall, all leafy green with tiny white berries that almost made it look snow-flecked. "Do you know what that is?"
Cor squinted at the plant. "Uh… no…?"
"Mistletoe," said Aravis.
Both boys looked at her.
"What? I learned all your silly northern plants. But what's it got to do with anything?"
"Well," said Corin, "Susan says back in her place—her old world I mean—there's a tradition that any man and any woman who find themselves standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe are allowed to kiss, and if they don't, it's very bad luck."
"Oh, that's nice," said Aravis dryly.
Corin only grinned. "Would you two like me to pluck you one?"
Aravis pursed her lips.
Cor blinked, momentarily struck dumb.
Aravis glanced at him as the awkward silence stretched on. "Well? Aren't you going to tell him no?"
For a second the only thought buzzing in Cor's empty head was how striking she looked when she was angry, dark eyes flickering chestnut in the golden hearth fire. He stuttered. "Do you want me to?"
"Well, I—" Aravis gaped and then huffed, glaring from Corin to Cor and back again before slamming the apple back into Cor's hand and storming off across the room.
"Eesh," breathed Corin, "no warmth to be found in those eyes, brother."
"Not after you embarrassed her like that," snapped Cor, coming back to his senses with a cold slap of reality.
"Embarrassed? What embarrassed? It was just a joke!"
"You did that on purpose!"
Corin couldn't quite stifle his smirk. "Well, it was still a joke, even if I was doing my moral duty to help you out, too."
"Help! Why, you little—"
"Don't blame me! You're the one who set your sights on the demon lady!"
"She's not a demon, she's perfectly fine when we're alone. At least— well, she's nicer, at any rate, when I don't put my foot in my mouth, which I do well enough as it is without your help."
"Ah, well, better luck next time, then. Unless you change your mind, in which case there is this one girl, I promised I'd mention her to you—"
"Oh, Lion, Corin, will you stop promising the throne of Archenland to every new friend you meet?"
"She really is a sweet girl, though, this one, you might do well to consider—"
Cor turned and pelted his brother with the apple, shiny red fruit ricocheting with a hard thump off his sternum to bounce over the floor as the boy clutched his heart in over-exaggerated shock.
A second later he ducked as Corin lunged and caught him in a headlock, toppling them both to the ground.
"Boys!" called King Lune from across the hall, breaking momentarily from a conversation with a handful of courtiers. "We've talked about this!"
"Sorry father," barked Corin, and leapt to his feet at once, leaving Cor to pick himself up, rubbing his throat and coughing, with a sour glance at his brother.
Lune chuckled, a rich, musical sound in the busy great hall, and waved them off. "Not that, son, I've told you not to waste good food."
"Oh," giggled Corin, and ducked to swipe the apple off the floor before Cor could protest, still recovering his breath.
Corin bit into it with a crunch and shot Cor a grin as he bounded off, wild golden hair bouncing with every step, undoubtedly to join their father's conversation and torment somebody else for a change.
Cor rolled his eyes.
He collapsed into a high-backed chair at the nearest table and brushed his own hair back where it had come loose from its tie, pulling the second apple out from his pocket which he'd been meaning to save for himself, tracing its tight red skin with one fingernail.
Perhaps he would find Aravis after dinner, once she'd had a chance to recover her dignity.
He smiled involuntarily as her murderous dark eyes flashed back into his head.
And he thought, for just a second, that if her gaze was half as icy as Corin claimed, he'd never been so happy to freeze to death.