The time of the coronation was nigh, and Anvard Castle was in an uproar. Groomsmen rushed to and fro with orders and commands, the chambermaids spent much time running from room to room making sure all was in readiness for the evening, and the kitchen was strictly off limits to all non-essential personnel. This, apparently, included both the crown prince and his twin. Corin was disgruntled, and vanished to absolve his irritation over the interruption of his meals through hard exercise. Cor, after being measured repeatedly and fussed over for what seemed entirely too long, had finally found enough time to slip out of the castle and take to the gardens. After fielding what seemed like an endless procession to people wanting to offer their congratulations, the orchard was a welcome respite. He walked past the primary trees, further back into the grove where he had married his-now queen.

She had been much calmer than he during the process. But, he mused, she's probably used to it, having been a noble in Calormen.

He wondered if Aravis was already outside, perhaps waiting for him. She was particularly fond of these trees, and spent much time here.

~~~~*~~~~

She had vanished for nearly four days three weeks prior to their wedding, prompting a frantic search. As Cor ran through his father's garden with a promise of help from the surrounding noblemen, he came across her in a secluded corner, wearing nothing but a silken gown. The imprint of her knees had worn a patch in the grass, as she had been there for some time. Naturally, he asked her where she had been; she explained that she had been performing the rites that all maidens made to Zardeenah upon entering a marriage contract.

"But we're in Narnia, Aravis. You needn't do that anymore."

"I am a Calormene by birth, no matter where I am, and this is what we as women do. As I recall –" her dark eyes flashed – "you always looked to the North, even on the south side of the world."

"Yes, but –"

"It was embedded in you. Much as this is embedded in me."

"You should pray to Aslan for what you need."

She was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, making her look very young. She patted the grass and he sat down. "Why don't you ask me what the rites to Zardeenah are about, instead of trying to pick a quarrel?"

So he did.

"We ask Zardeenah to make us desirable to our husbands, and to help us to effectively practice what we have been…shall I say, taught. But because I had no mother to tell me anything, I have been praying to Zardeenah to give me wisdom along this…unknown path." Her lips curled, lending a coy element to her face. She reached and touched his stubbled cheek. "I just want to make a good wife for you, Cor."

He took her small hand and imprisoned it in his own, silently thanking Aslan for deeming him worthy of such a woman.

~~~~*~~~~

He found her some distance from the castle. She was sitting on an ornate wooden bench, clad in a silvery gray gown that shimmered when she moved. Cor approached her, wondering at her loveliness. The clear moonlight bathed her dark skin and made the black waves of her hair glow. She smiled at him and invited him to sit down with a gesture. "Welcome, my king."

He sat, kissing her hand and bringing it around to caress his face, a mutual sign of affection that they had established some time ago. They remained silent for some time, Aravis looking up towards the moon, and Cor gazing upon his wife.

"You look absolutely breathtaking tonight," he finally said. She inclined her head against his shoulder, still looking up at the moon.

"My father wanted you to wear that dress."

"Yes. I remember watching the dryads gather the material to make it. Who would have thought…" She let the thought go unfinished and sighed. "Is your father up there…" She pointed towards the glowing moon, "…or out there?" She indicated the horizon with a sweep of her hand.

"I think that he's with us, right now."

She nestled in closer. "I think so too. Surely Aslan let him see us…it isn't fair that someone has to die before their son can become king, is it?"

"It keeps those of us who love our fathers from becoming too envious," he murmured as he inhaled the scent of her hair, a mixture of warm scalp and flowers and fragrant water. "And it keeps a king from becoming too bitter."

They sat together, smiling at each other and enjoying this rare moment alone. Cor had so much to learn that he had hardly been at home at Anvard. Even after their engagement, he was in her presence but infrequently. Their first kiss had been at the wedding, a testimony to how little she had seen of him. "My friend Lasaraleen Tarkheena was here tonight."

He sat up at this name; Lasaraleen had been instrumental to their successful journey across the desert. "Was she? I was unaware."

"I invited her personally, though I must say that I was surprised that she came. I invited my father and his family as well."

"He did not come?"

"He has disowned me. My deception and falsehood, he said in his reply, was disgraceful and brought shame to our family. He would not accept as his own a daughter who has embraced such foreign ideas."

The calmness of her voice startled Cor. He looked hard at her face, but she seemed resigned, more so than upset. "Lasaraleen told me that since my departure, my stepmother has gained more influence over my father. Undoubtedly she has much to do with his change of heart, although I suspect that he is disappointed in his own right. He had much to gain from my marriage to Ahoshta Tarkaan."

Cor slipped an arm around her shoulders, sharing warmth. "Did she bring her husband with her?"

"She came alone. Her husband could not come, as he is part of the Tisroc's guard and to attend a Narnian coronation would bring much suspicion upon him. She herself must return home tomorrow, and in secret."

"Did you speak with her privately?"

"She wrote me by a trusted messenger and said that she would come by sea in a commoner's ship, and disguised. I have kept her in my own room since yesterday. She was too afraid to be seen publicly otherwise."

"And you did not see fit to tell me, at least?"

"Cor, she is so very timid. She would only agree to come under promise of the strictest secrecy. Remember also that Calormenes are taught rumors and myths about Narnia, and thus they fear as well as hate. What could I do otherwise but agree to keep her presence in confidence?"

He smiled wryly at her. "Have you become a diplomat, my dear?"

"I merely have knowledge pertinent to both sides. I only wish to be fair."

"A trait well suited to a queen. Shall we go in now?"

"Soon," she replied and they lapsed into silence once again.

"I suppose that Archenland is…mildly jarring for her," he said eventually.

"The talking animals frighten her, but other than that she enjoys it. She spent the majority of her time looking at my clothes, anyway."

He ran his rough fingers over the fabric of the gown. "Did she like this one?"

Aravis smiled ruefully. "She demanded to borrow it – until I told her how it was made. Then she wouldn't come near it."

"And what horrid secret, pray tell, could bend the spirit of a determined Tarkheena?"

She leaned in close, as if she feared to be overheard. "This dress was made from the fog that surrounds Stormness Head. It was made by dryads, and by magic."

Cor chuckled. "A haunted dress?"

"Indeed." She stood, regal and yet unassuming all at once. "I do believe it is time to return, my good sir."

He offered her his arm. "After you, my lady."

~~~~*~~~~

There had been several Calormenes in attendance at the coronation, for the rumor that Archenland was about to have a dark-skinned queen had caused much speculation in the southern lands, and those who could afford the journey wanted to look upon her for themselves. It was thus with much bated breath that Cor of Archenland led his wife, Aravis Tarkheena of Calormen, to the royal dais where they were presented to all assembled as the King and Queen of Archenland.

Lasaraleen Tarkheena pulled a richly embroidered cloth close around her head. She could not risk her husband's military career by being noticed, but neither could she have refused to see her friend again, and especially not when this friend was about to become royalty. Cowering lest she be recognized, she only looked up as the royal trumpets began to blast at the entrance of the newly crowned couple. The king stood tall in a dark blue uniform, his blond hair grown thick and long. His face was stern, but there was a clear joy about him that shone through. And next to him was her friend, resplendent in the iridescent gown that contrasted well against copper skin. "She looks so happy," she murmured. "I would have never dreamed that Aravis could smile like that."

The official ceremony was over. Quickly, she pushed her way out through the milling crowds and walked hurriedly through the courtyard. No matter how many times Aravis had attempted to reassure her, Lasaraleen could not get used to the idea of talking tree spirits. And the idea that they had made Aravis's dress from fog…it made her shiver with terror. As rapidly as she could manage, she climbed the stairs that led back to Aravis's old room. She had been promised not to be disturbed again until the time came to depart.

After a hot bath, she changed quickly and crawled into the large bed, pulling the sheets up to her cold nose. "Tash," she whispered, "protect me in this land of demons and ghosts! Just help me to leave this place in safety, and I'll never come back here again!"

A voice murmured "My daughter" so quietly that she attributed it to her imagination. But it comforted her, and she sat up in bed. "Lord Tash…?"

A most curious aroma filled the air, boring into her senses and making her feel things that she had not felt in years: recklessness, intense passion and an nearly overwhelming joy. And before she could wonder at these sudden and unexpected desires, she realized that the Lion's head crest that sat on the wall was alive…

~~~~*~~~~

"Goodbye, dearest." Aravis handed her friend into the ship, waving her away from the dock. The small vessel pulled off slowly, the fullsail raising and billowing out as it caught the force of the wind. The young queen watched in the dawn until the ship was lost against the murky horizon, and then she slowly made her way up to the castle ramparts, where the king was waiting. She drew near to him, and he pulled her into his strong arms, offering her his warmth.

"Was she well, Aravis? She seemed unusually quiet."

She pinched him, reproachfully. "That's not very nice of you to say."

"I merely meant…" A few more prods led to a consoling embrace before he could continue. "Normally she is more talkative. Was she…bothered? Did someone say something to her?"

"Yes." She folded herself in his heavy cloak; her gauzy nightgown was no match for the early morning dew. "She met Aslan last night."

"Did she!"

"The plaque in the room came to life, and spoke to her. She did not tell me what they spoke about. But she was changed. From the moment that she arrived, she had been afraid, frightened. When I saw her this morning, she had the look of one who had overcome fear at last." She smiled up at her husband. "She's promised to write me."

Cor said nothing, holding her close. The sun had almost completely risen by this point.

"She wants to come back sometime."

"She is always welcome."

They stood and watched as golden light washed over Anvard Castle. In the orchard, birds were singing.

"I love you, my lady." Cor bent his head against her own, and kissed her.

She didn't answer him, but her smile told him everything that she could not say. She slipped her arm into his, and they walked back together.

FIN