A/N: Sorry it's been so long! I've been distracted by vacation and a Tintin fanfiction idea that popped into my head.
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The laughter died on Aravis' lips when neither of the princes moved. Fear rose in her throat. King Lune leapt to his feet and with a quickness that belayed his size he made his way down into the field. The court physician was already there, checking them over. Corin had already roused and was trying to stand. Pages and grooms were stripping them of their armor. Aravis and Amberjill were not far behind.
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Corin cried impatiently, batting his attendants' hands away. He turned to look for his brother. Cor was still on the ground. Unmoving. Corin frantically pushed his way through and knelt at his side.
"Cor! Hi, Cor! Wake up! Please!"
"Don't shake him!" The physician shouted. "He's unconscious. I'm not sure of the extant of the damage. I will need to examine him further. Bring the stretchers!"
"I never should have let him compete! Oh, my son! My son!" The king cried with a barely restrained sob.
Aravis felt her knees begin to buckle as she stood nearby, not being able to get to Cor because of the crowd. She could feel the panic rising. Her anxious thoughts were interrupted by a hand on her shoulder: it was Amberjill. Aravis briefly touched her hand with hers in acknowledgement then began the walk back to the palace. They followed close behind the stretcher, behind King Lune. Aravis' next thought was that they looked like a funeral procession. She fiercely shook the thought from her head.
"Oh, Aslan . . . don't take him to your country just yet . . ."
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King Lune came as often to Cor's bedside as he could. Many times he had to be persuaded, argued with and sometimes physically prodded out by his advisors in order to get him to resume his duties as king.
Corin would not leave his bedside. He ate very little of what was given to him and slept in the window seat of Cor's room. He sat for two days either staring into space or watching his brother's prone form, his face pale and drawn. Neither Amberjill nor Aravis could persuade him to leave. He blamed himself.
"Don't you dare die, Cor!" Corin wiped his eyes and a watery smile came to his face. "Don't you dare die and make me king. I'll never forgive you for it." His weak laugh became a sob.
Aravis was in Cor's chambers as often as possible, but her attention was divided when an unexpected guest arrived.
Abtin, the son of her father's sister, had come all the way from Calormen to see her. He was on assignment from her father. Aravis received him in a private audience chamber.
"He wants you to come home. If you come willingly all will be forgiven."
"You mean if I return and marry Ahosta?"
"Yes."
"No!"
"Aravis, please. By our childhood friendship—"
"No, Abtin," Aravis repeated in a gentler tone. "But, please, let my father know that I never wanted to leave him or Calormen. He left me no choice."
Abtin's face turned sad then stony. "Just as you leave me none."
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Cor was surrounded by a sea of people. He was high up . . . somewhere . . . it looked like his father's throne room. The coronation mantle was on his shoulders, the regalia in his hands. Cries of "LONG LIVE, THE KING!" echoed through the space.
"Wait! I'm not ready!" Cor shouted.
"LONG LIVE, THE KING!"
"I can't do this!"
"Cor, is something wrong?"
Cor turned to the familiar voice and saw Aravis standing beside him, dressed in a silver gown and a diamond diadem crowning her black hair.
"Cor." A different voice came. A rich, warm voice that rumbled in the air.
"Cor."
The voice seemed to vibrate in the marrow of his bones. He had heard somewhere before. Suddenly there was the sensation of velvet on his cheek. The prince looked around and saw that situated on either side of him, like the armrests of a chair, were a large lion's paws. Cor looked up and stared into the face of Aslan himself. The Great Lion leaned down and licked his forehead with a sandpaper tongue. Cor's foggy mind cleared.
"Aslan."
"Hello, my son."
"Where am I?"
"Between Narnia and my Country."
"What happened?"
"That matters little. What matters now is that you wake up. You are needed."
Cor felt so peaceful and so at home in between Aslan's paws. He knew he belonged there. "But, I want to stay with you."
"As much as I long for that, it is not time yet."
"I understand, Aslan." Cor moved to get up.
"And remember, Cor, that no matter where you are, you are always in my arms."
Cor's eyes snapped open. He tentatively turned his head, wincing at the soreness of his neck. Corin was asleep in the chair beside his bed.
"Corin," Cor croaked.
Corin shot up in the chair like he had been stuck with a pin. "COR! Thank the Lion you're alive!" He fell on his twin with a hug.
"Agh! Corin . . . pain!"
"Sorry. I'm just so relieved."
"What happened?"
Corin hung his head. "I knocked you out—well—we knocked each other out really, but I was only briefly stunned." On any other occasion Corin would have been proud of the fact and smiled as he said it. "I thought I'd killed you." Corin whispered. He rubbed the remaining moisture out of his eyes and let a final watery sigh of relief escape.
Cor had never seen Corin so contrite. He gingerly sat up and embraced his brother. "Don't distress yourself any more, brother, I'm alright."
Corin straightened and grinned, his usual cocky self slowly coming back. "I'll get the physician and we'll see about that." Corin moved to the door and said before leaving. "I still beat you."
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King Lune stood close by Cor's bedside while the court physician finished his perusal.
"Well, it looks like he's mended fairly well. But, I would recommend another day or two of bed rest, just to make s—" The doctor was interrupted by Corin bursting into the room, waving a piece of parchment in his hand.
"Aravis!" He gasped, doubling over and out of breath. He had run all the way from the ladies wing on the other side of the palace.
Cor immediately straightened, his body alert with fear. "What's wrong?"
"She's gone."