A/N: Hi! Sorry it's been so long! Looking over this, I just noticed there seems to be a lot of grudging going on between the characters . . . Anywho, I shortened the process of the joust, since this isn't a historical fic, it doesn't need to be accurate to any certain period of history, 'cause it's Narnia, not France or England.

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Dawn found Cor pacing in front of the library window. His sleep had been fitful and his thoughts were whirling. Reason told him to not participate in the tournament, but the urge to prove his worth was louder. Cor consulted King Lune on the matter. The old king was surprised and upset by the request. But he recognized the urgency and determination on his son's face and relented.

"You feel you must prove your position as Crown Prince through physical challenge, eh?"

"Yes, father."

King Lune gave out a long sigh. He understood completely.

"Very well, just this once. And may Aslan protect you."

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By breakfast, word spread throughout the palace that Crown Prince Cor was participating in the joust. By luncheon all of Archenland was abuzz.

Aravis refused to speak to Cor.

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Corin was pleasantly surprised when he saw his brother waiting in the training field, suited up for practice.

"I thought—"

"Father gave his permission." Cor held out his hand to his brother. With a smirk, Corin took it.

"I won't go easy on you."

Cor smiled. "I know."

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Aravis was absent from dinner. She sent her regrets, complaining of a headache.

"Lady Aravis has been acting strange lately," King Lune commented. "I hope she is not falling ill."

Amberjill was an admirer of horseflesh and, with tournament up and coming, discussed her favorite breeds. Normally, this would be a topic of interest to Cor (it certainly was to Corin) but, tonight Amberjill's chatter grated.

On his way to bed Cor paused by Aravis' chamber door. He hovered indecisively: He wanted to check in on her, but that ran the risk of disturbing her and as consequence could render him unfit for the tournament. The decision was suddenly made for him when the door swung open.

Aravis stepped out, dressed in her nightgown and robe. Cor noted that her eyes were red rimmed as if she had been weeping. Her surprise at the sight of him darkened to anger then melted into hurt. Before Cor could get a word out Aravis quickly retreated back into her room and slammed the door in his face.

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"Why won't you give me a token?" Prince Corin dogged Lady Amberjill's steps as she walked briskly toward the tiltyard.

"I've already given mine to the Crown Prince."

"But . . . I can't go into the tournament without one."

"Surely, you can find another noblewoman to oblige you."

I only want yours. "Of course I can! Nothing simpler."

Corin watched her figure diminish as she continued toward the lists and felt his confidence do the same.

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Cor glanced up from fastening his gauntlet as his brother entered the pavilion. He noticed his dejected countenance and inquired what was wrong.

Corin looked up and his eyes immediately fell on the delicate, pale blue scarf tied to his pauldron, the armor covering his upper arm. Corin scowled at it. Then with an exasperated sigh he plopped down on a cushioned bench.

"I'm in love," he declared with a grimace.

Cor fixed his twin with an apprehensive stare. "With whom?"

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Cor wandered over to his mount. He was turning over his brother's confession in his mind. He was not surprised by it, what concerned him was his own reaction. Was he upset? No. Actually the opposite, coupled with sympathy for Corin. Amberjill's ambivalent attitude toward him was embarrassingly blatant.

Cor went through the motions of mounting his charger and settling in the saddle. He gave vague nods and answers to the questions of his squire as he made some final adjustments.

"I can tell by the way you're sitting, you're not focused, your highness." A new yet familiar voice cut into Cor's thoughts. He lifted his visor and looked down to see the horse staring pointedly at him, and not just any horse:

"Bree!"

"Hello, Shasta." Bree gave a nickering laugh, delighting in the prince's flabbergasted expression.

"What . . . what are—"

"I'm here by special request. Your father thought you would be safer on my back than a dumb horse. I quite agree with him. They spook too easily."

"And you don't?"

Bree gave an indignant sputter. "That was different and you know it! If you don't want me to help you . . ."

Cor laughed. How he had missed his friend! "I was only teasing, Bree." He reached down and gave the old war horse a reassuring pat on the neck. "There's no braver steed in all of Narnia or Archenland than you," he said sincerely.

Bree tossed his head, pacified. "That's better."

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During the formal procession the participants titles were called out. They all saluted King Lune as they passed by raising their banners. A particularly loud cheer rose from the crowd as the two princes of Archenland passed. Cor felt a swell of pride as he raised his banner bearing the royal coat of arms, which emblazoned his particular device.

When Cor returned to the pavilion he was surprised to find Aravis there. But, she had not come to see him. Instead she was tying one of her Calormene veils to Corin's pauldron. Cor forced down the sudden unpleasant feeling that flared up inside him.

Corin gave Aravis a grateful smile.

"Thanks for doing this even though it's last minute. I hope nobody noticed I didn't have one during the procession. I owe you one."

"Not at all. It's my pleasure." Aravis returned his grin warmly.

Cor suddenly recognized the unpleasant feeling for what it was:

Jealousy. Pure, unadulterated jealousy.

How long had it been since she smiled at him that way? As Cor focused on Aravis' mouth he suddenly felt the memory of the kiss she had placed on his cheek the night before last. His heart and mind reeled as an overwhelming yearning filled them.

Look at me, Aravis. Look at me, please.

She did not.

Cor, feeling the last of his control slipping, turned on his heel and left.

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Aravis shifted uncomfortably in her seat under the covered dais. She had seen Cor standing there out of the corner of her eye. It pained her to glimpse the blue rag that fluttered on his shoulder. It was a small comfort that Corin asked for a token. At least someone wanted one from her. She was more than glad to give it to the younger prince. Her heart went out to Corin, who, in many ways, reminded her of her own brother and whom she loved as one. She was naturally outraged by Amberjill's treatment of him.

The Tarkheena snapped to attention when Cor's first pass was about to begin. It was a against Sir Penhaligon of the Lone Islands. She smiled at the sight of Bree. She had encountered Hwin earlier near the stables. She had come with Bree and was now standing next to the dais, beside Aravis' chair.

"Have faith. All will be well, my lady." Hwin nickered and nudged her gently with her nose.

Aravis took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm. "I know."

Oh, dearest Aslan, please . . .

Aravis struggled to form a prayer but could find the words. She knew that Aslan knew what was in her heart and that was enough. She calmed somewhat. Then she spotted Cor moving up to the list. She thought she was mistaken at first, but after a longer inspection, she realized that Cor was no longer wearing Lady Amberjill's token.

"Hwin—"

"Yes, I see." The moment Aravis saw Hwin again, her guard fell and she had unburdened her heart to her friend.

"Did he take it off on purpose or did it fall off?"

"Who can tell?"

Aravis looked over at Lady Amberjill. She was tight-lipped and hurriedly stuffing a pale blue scarf down her sleeve. Aravis did not dare to hope, and yet could not stifle its thrill coursing through her.

What did it mean?

The sound of trumpets blasting recalled Aravis' attention. Cor and Sir Penhaligon charged each other. When they were just about to meet, Sir Penhaligon raised his lance so it was in a vertical position. Cor was obliged to do the same. Sir Penhaligon forfeited the match. The same happened with Cor's next opponent and the one after that and the one after that.

No one wanted to fight him. No one wanted to run the risk injuring the Crown Prince of Archenland. King Lune looked on sadly. He knew this was going to happen. Another reason why he did not want Cor participating. He wanted to save him the embarrassment.

Finally, it came down to just two: Cor and Corin.

Corin set his lance firmly in the cradle and charged. He did not back down. The crowd held its breath.

They met.

They unhorsed each other.

"Of course," Aravis laughed.

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Well, that was a fun chapter. Read and review, if you please! :)