"You do understand that continuing to stare at me will not turn me into a donkey?" Arrosh kept his eyes ahead and on the horizon as the boat pitched in the water. The winds were good and the sky clear for now, though a few crew members had sniffed the air, saying a storm wasn't too far off. If that was the case, he would stay above deck as long as he could.

This voyage would be far different from his journey here. This time, he was a passenger and not a cabin boy. Though, he would almost have preferred the later. He would have more to do than stand about waiting for a storm to come or simply for the time to pass. No one would let him touch much of anything that was work related. Mayhaps they could tell he had little in the way of experience. He barely knew the names of the various parts and places on the vessel.

"I stand by what I said," Orran's voice rumbled behind him, being the source of the piercing stare, "All else may be hoodwinked by your trickery but I see you for who you are."

Arrosh took advantage of the fact his back was to the mountain of a man and indulged in an eye roll. "Think what you like of me, sir." He turned towards the man, giving a shrug, "But I will stand by what I have said as well." The man might never believe him, so what was the point in trying to convince him? He was tired and no longer cared who believed him or not besides the Queen and her were the ones in charge.

They had all said their goodbyes, kissed their loved ones, and waved goodbye on the deck. Or rather, Arrosh watched and besides the surprise hug from Ram and one of those odd gestures where his hand was grabbed firmly and shaken from the king with a nod, waited for them to be finished so they could be off. The sooner they got there the better. It had already taken them most of the day to get to the seaside. Thank Tash windshad been right and they were able to leave.

"It's perfect weather for setting out on a voyage, is it not?" The young voice of the second guard chosen to come came along with the clumping of boots against wood. He was a short lad, recently been knighted, and eager to prove his loyalty to the crown. With a good word from Corin, the king must have decided that this mellow journey might be good enough for the young knight. Arrosh couldn't even remember his name.

"That it is," Arrosh gave him a smile, though he didn't quite feel it, "As the proverbs say, when one rises in the morning and the sky is blue, fair sailing is sure to follow."

"Do they really say that in Calormen?"

"No." Arrosh shrugged, looking out at the water, "But it sounded good enough."

"I feel as though most proverbs you Calormen people say, have never been spoken until they come out of your mouths." One of the crewman nearby, one of the older ones who seemed to have traveled much in his life, cackled.

Arrosh hid a smile, the man wasn't far off in his assumption, "I assure you, we do have our proverbs, sir. There are many to remember."

"Far too many I should say!" Corin laughed, having taken a spot to lounge against the mast as the boat swayed beneath him.

"As one whose father tried to get him to remember them, I am inclined to agree, highness." Arrosh rested against the rail of the ship. Mayhaps this trip wouldn't be quite so bad.

The knife glistened in the candle light, not a promise or a threat, but a measure to be taken. Only if needed and hoped to never be used. Aravis slid the dagger into its sheath and adjusted the material of her dress to hide said sheath. It felt odd to be in the clothes of her homeland again. Only once had she even worn clothing as such and that was when Lasaraleen, her childhood friend, had given them to her to sneak through the Tisroc's palace. Those had been nicer, in truth. This was a plain affair with no veil, though there was a headdress on her bed that would be put on later.

Was this a madman's venture? They'd put the plan together over the course of less than two full days. At least the place that Arrosh suspected Iliz to be was close to the coast and they wouldn't have to travel inland too far. He had said that foreigners at the coast were uncommon but not so much as to draw too much attention to themselves but further inland that wasn't the case. Aslan willing, she hadn't been sold yet.

This was her fault. But how could she have known that her leaving would cause such catostrophic results? For years she had been believing her family to be happily living in their mansion, forgetting her for better things, and rarely, if ever, thinking of her. Had she been so foolish? By running away, she had brought dishonor to her family and had practically spit in the face of one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, thereby it was her family who did the same. If she had not been there for punishment, then they would have to do. Not to mention, the shame of the Tisroc's son, Rabidash's, recent defeat would have put a thorn in his side and mayhaps added insult to injury if it had been discovered where she had run off to. Not once had she considered any of this.

Would she have done it if she had known? Aravis wasn't sure, in truth. Aslan wouldn't like these thoughts. That wasn't how her story had gone and she couldn't change it. Better to focus on what her story was saying now and how she would make things right.

With a breath, Aravis put the headdress on and started toward the upper decks where everyone else was. It was no good hiding down here.

The ship dipped and moved lightly with the water, it was a clear evening and the sea air was almost intoxicating. It was easy to forget the nice parts of an experience when everything else had been horrible before. Now wasn't the case, however. Arrosh was a passenger, not a stowaway, eventual laborer, and then runaway.

"It's so beautiful when it's calm, is it not?" A woman's voice sounded beside him, Aravis, his sister. She'd abandoned her family for a different life, tarnishing their name so badly it left them in squalor. Yet she wasn't the girl that his father had described. Selfish, arrogant, and heartless – among other things. He hadn't expected her to want to come with him, had barely dared to hope that she would even believe him and be able to do something to help. Yet here she was, the queen of another land with servants and warriors at her disposal, going with them to see it through. Maybe his father had been wrong about her.

"It is." He answered, trying to rid the worming feeling from his gut. Just because she didn't seem to be the woman his father promised she was, didn't mean she wasn't just as much a stranger to him. Worse than a stranger. She was a woman he should know, understand, and care for. He had none of those things. What was one supposed to talk about to the queen? It was evident that she wanted to talk to him.

"Arrosh," The queen had come up to the side of the railing with him, looking out at the sky with the sun that was starting its journey down below the horizon. She looked different in a servant's garb, if the plan was to make her seem as though she were a slave woman it wasn't working. She was still as much a queen as before. It was as though she was wearing a costume. "I'm sorry," Aravis took a breath, "I'm sorry that my leaving caused such distress. I never would have imagined that could happen."

"I understand," Arrosh kept his eyes on the sea, though he knew his sister was looking at him now, "Political marriages are not pleasant things from what I've heard. I know I wouldn't want Iliz to have to do that if I could help it. Father said you were selfish, but it seems to me that you were smart. You got far more out of running than you would have if you had stayed."

"Did he ever forgive me?" Her voice was quiet, "I know you said he became a bitter man."

"No," Arrosh responded truthfully, letting her guilt fester some, it would only help him anyways, "He cursed you until his dying day, blaming you for the death of his second wife. He even tried to blame you for Iliz being sold."

"I did what I had to do, boy. Your sister, Aravis, brought us to this. She brought us this low. Spit at her, not I."

Aravis was silent for a time, she wanted to ask him but wasn't sure if she wanted the answer, "Did you blame me? Do you?"

Arrosh returned her silence, contemplating how to word it. You don't tell the person helping you that you hated them. He did. Or had, at least. Not because she left, causing ruin in her wake, but because she'd left him behind. Every bite of a whip, angry word from his father, the back of a hand, hungry night, might have been avoided. But he saw that she couldn't have taken him. Couldn't have taken Iliz either. That hadn't stopped him as a child, though. A child didn't consider those details. All he'd known was she had left and he had stayed. "I don't blame you now. Though, I won't say that our father's words never had any effect on me as a child." He looked at her, giving her a small smile, "I'm glad that his words were wrong, Aravis." Looking away, he smirked a bit, "I'm especially glad that the winds carried his curses in the wrong direction and they never made it to you. It would be a shame to come all this way to find out that you had been transformed into a pig so loathsome that none were even willing to butcher you."

Aravis nearly choked, "He said that? Truly?"

"And many other things besides." The young man turned away from the late afternoon sky leaning against the rails, there was Sir Orrin, trying to look like he wasn't watching them, "I told you, he became a very bitter man." His gaze went distant, remembering how often he had been on the receiving end of that bitterness.

"Tell me of Iliz, who has she grown up to be?" Aravis smiled softly, changing the subject, "Last I saw her, she was a newborn, swaddled up and being hurried away by a nursemaid."

Arrosh brought his attention back to the present, and couldn't help but smile wanly, thinking of his little sister, "She's a bright girl, not solemn like many of those around in the village. Always came home with a bounce in her step, even if when she got there, I'd learn that she'd gotten in trouble for one thing or another. She's a somewhat clumsy child so it was never a surprise that she was whipped over dropping something or making a mess. She'll grow out of it, though. I was like that for a time too before it got beaten out of me." He shook his head some, remembering some of the antics that had happened at home. "She's not a particularly talkative one for many, but if she knows you well enough, she'll talk until the sun goes down. She learned basket weaving from her friend not long ago and now she makes little baskets that end up everywhere. Thankfully, it'll be a few more years yet before she'll be expected to become more refined for being a good wife. She'll do well as she gets older but she's still young and I don't mind spoiling her for a time. Let her be a child once she gets home from work." He stopped at that, Aravis probably wouldn't like hearing of that, having run away distinctly because of a marriage. Stealing a glance at her, she seemed like she was trying to control her features, not entirely sure what to say.

Aravis managed to get herself to smile, "She sounds wonderful, Arrosh. I can't wait to meet her and get to know her." She paused, "Will you return with us, upon getting her back?" She was still reeling some from how casually he had mentioned whippings, beatings, and his little sister preparing for marriage in a few years, so much of her culture she'd forgotten. Though, she knew little of the lower cast in Calormen, in truth. Cor had never been one to talk about it much, but had admitted that beatings were not uncommon among them. More often than not, being hit for something done wrong or, in her husband's case, a question at the wrong time. Something she had never experienced herself, thankfully. All the same, her back twinged at the memory of the lesson Aslan had taught her all those years ago.

"If it good for you and yours, we'd be more than happy to return with you for a time." Her brother smiled over at her, "I won't forget the debt we owe you for this. You're help is not unappreciated."

"It's the least I could do."

"You know," The boy's voice went up as a small quiet befell them, trying to seem light,"I've only heard my father's account of what happened and I'm not sure his side is all that trustworthy anymore." Arrosh kept his gaze on the ocean, failing to keep his shoulders relaxed. Corin had come out onto the deck, chatting with Sir Orran nearby, and a few others who had been selected to bring on the mission had also meandered out, enjoying the cool evening air.

"If it pleases you, I would like to hear your account of the events." Asking her for her side of the story, still not quite knowing how to act around her. Arroshdidn't truly care all that much, but it was better than standing there in silence, not knowing what to speak hadn't wanted to get married to an old man, ran away, married a prince, became queen. That was it.

Corin turned at this, perking up, "Ah, yes, Aravis, it has been ages since you've told a story and you're quite good at it. It would be such fun for the night's entertainment! That one is such fun as well. Probably because I was there for part of it." At this he gave the cocky grin that Arrosh was beginning to realize was a common expression of the man's.

Aravis looked down with a small smile, "If it's agreeable, I will tell it. But I shall only tell mine, Cor is not here for his side of the tale."

"Someone, fetch some seating, please!" The prince called out across the deck, "The queen is about to tell us her tale of adventure and intrigue! All are welcome."

Arrosh settled himself on a coil of rope nearby. Adventure and intrigue? In one light it could be that, he supposed. Running away and all that did tend to be a thing of stories at times. Though, in Calormen, the stories were more often of the gods, or those sent on quests by said gods. The rest were proverbs. Not that he had ever gotten to hear a story all that often, unless you counted Iliz's tall tales she occasionally told or that old fisherman who tried to say he had a tarkaan come to his house to buy his son, but when they woke in the morning his son and the tarkaan's horse was gone with the saddle. Both never to be found again. He had been lucky to escape a hanging if it was true, it had probably been assumed that he'd planned with the boy to steal the horse but the son had stolen it for himself and ran away.

Before long, everyone was settled before the queen, a few of the crew members included, while she sat on a box, cross legged, and began her tale.

"My name, is Aravis Tarkheenah, and I was the only daughter of Kidrash Tarkaan..."