Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The view through one of the larger windows in her bedroom was situated towards the Southern Gate, the road beyond stretching into the forest. The forest with the road that came up beside the Winding Arrow, sourced from the mountains with the pass to the desert far beyond what Aravis’ physical eye could see from her castle window. Spring being at its peak with lush greenery, the view of the road towards her homeland was much obscured and all that could be seen of was the land cleared closest to her castle.   

Most days it was almost a relief to have one less reminder. While there were memories that she held close to her heart, there were far too many others to let her want to stroll down that lane. Her father had disowned her, proclaiming her dead in his eyes when she had gone back to reconcile with him once she had settled at the castle in Anvard. The recent birth of his new daughter, from his new wife (a young woman not much older than herself at the time.) had likely helped ease whatever pain there may have been. There was nothing and no one for her to return to. So she left and never returned. Thoughts of her lost family and her memories of them locked away in the deepest parts of herself.  

Now, nigh close to 12 years later, she had a child with the boy whom she’d once thought so beneath her, she was a queen in a good-hearted, prosperous land, and she was content. Despite that, in her mind's eye she could still see that fateful first walk up to the castle and how it had felt. So hopeful and so very alone. How could she have imagined that she would be blessed beyond anything she would have ever dreamed?  

As if summoned, a set of strong, lean arms wrapped around her waist and a face grizzled with hair buried into her neck briefly follow by a kiss on the shoulder before moving to her cheek, “What is it that has you so pensive this morning, my queen?”  

Aravis allowed herself to melt into his embrace for a moment before turning to bring her own arms around him, “I’m not quite sure.” Parting from him but keeping him at arm's length she attempted an accusatory look at him, “But it has come to my attention that you are not where you’re supposed to be.” Unable to keep it up, the look was replaced with a knowing, if laced with only slight disapproval, smile, “Are you not supposed to be working on that preposition to the council about -”  

“Now, now,” Cor screwed up his face, pulling away some as if to save himself from her words, “I’ve finished that early this morning while you got your beauty sleep.” A small smile crept across his face as he took the moment to look her over, only in her morning dressing robe, before resting on her face with the love that had only gotten stronger as the years had gone by, “Which was well deserved and,” He came back towards her, giving her soft kisses along her jaw, down her neck.  

Aravis felt herself flush despite herself, backing up against the window opening, “Cor,” She tried to sound firm. There were things to do, duties called. A kingdom to be run. Their son to be cared for.   

But would the world crumble if it had to wait just a moment more?  

“Aravis,” He began his ministrations back up to whisper in her ear, “I think it will be quite alright if a steal a few precious moments with the love of my -” His tone changed to one of confusion after a pause, “Now who might that be?”  

Aravis fixed the front of her robe before quirking an eyebrow, “I stopped falling for that trick a long time ago. If you wanted to get out of something you would have been better continuing your original course of action.”  

Her husband shook his head, his eyes still on the road, “Not this time.“   

“And what is it that you see?”  

With a nod of his head towards the gate, confusion still lacing his gaze, Cor answered, “It appears that there’s a Calormen walking up to our gates.”  

Chapter Text

The boy stood before the king and queen in the throne room, his back straight and head held high despite the ragged state of his clothes and the clumsily wrapped wound on his leg. He was of average Calormen height, his black hair cut as though sawed at with a knife not far from his scalp as the lower casts of his land did. The boy's frame was thin and taut with muscles earned through hard labor. Nothing to indicate Aravis should believe what he was saying.

Yet it was the eyes that made her pause. Those bright, sly, emerald eyes so full of life. The eyes of her mother. Aravis nodded to him, her heart in her throat, “If you are who you say you are then who is your father?”

If it was possible for the boy to hold himself any higher, he did, “I, Arrosh, am the son of Kidrash Tarkaan, the son of Rishti Tarkaan, the son of Kidrash Tarkaan, the son of Illsombreh Tisroc, the son of Ardeeb Tisroc who was descended in a right line from the god Tash.” Rather than stopping there he continued without hesitation, “My mother’s name is Nalinayis, she died shortly after I was born. The name of my father’s second wife was Lazolmidiz, who birthed a daughter, Iliz. I am 17 years of age and will 18 in 6 months' time.”

There was a moment of silence before Cor sat forward some, “You could have easily gotten those names and memorized them. If you truly are the son of a tarkaan then why do you appear to us in this fashion? One would think you would be dressed in the attire made for one of your station.”

Arrosh’s posture did not change, but he did quirk an eyebrow. Her father's look. It had been years since she had seen her father but there was no way she could forget the man’s mannerisms.

“For you to understand that, I would have to tell you the story of the past 12 years of my life.” His voice was smooth and tranquil as that of many Calormen people, yet it lacked the vocabulary of that of the upper class and the swindlers of the market.

Aravis waved her hand in dismissal, "Not here and not with you in this state. We shall hear what it is you have to say. Somewhere more comfortable after your journey, you will be given new clothes and your wound treated." Cor merely gave her a small look but did not disagree with his wife aloud. That was something for behind closed doors.

The boy, a young man was closer to it, bowed his head low, "I thank you, for your immeasurable kindness, your Highness. If you wish to move to a more comfortable room, then by all means, let us do so. However, on the subject of clothes and care, I would prefer not. If you choose not to believe me and cast me out as a liar then I do not wish to take what is not mine."

Cor gave a curt nod, "So be it." He looked to the guard, "Please, lead him to the receiving room. We will be in shortly."

Now it was Aravis' turn to give him a look. That was not how they normally did things. The only reason he had appeared before them without being properly cared for was because he claimed to have an urgent matter to discuss with them.

Both the guard and Arrosh bowed low in unison then left the room, Arrosh never turning his back to king and queen. The doors shut and the sound of footsteps soon faded. The silence of the room was shattered with the swiftness of a hawk diving in for a kill.

"What were you thinking?"

"Why would you agree to that?"

The voices came at the same time and equally harsh. Faces went red and nostrils flared.

Aravis tilted her head up, as imperious as ever, "I was treating him as we would with any other visitor who came to our gates. I was acting by the principles of our land." She waved a hand at her husband, "You defied them by agreeing not to treat him as such!"

"Me? No, that boy has the pride of every Calormen workman. He would never have agreed until we either offered tenfold or nothing at all. I was speeding this dreadful process up!" Co leaned forward onto his knees, "We both know he would only refuse if he wanted something more from us. He -" He paused, searching her face, "You don't believe this, surely."

Her head lowered, eyes looking into his, "I may. The resemblances to my mother are strong and his mannerisms are that of my father. Even the age aligns. By Aslan, I can feel he's telling the truth."

"Your father is a tarkaan in Calormen why would your brother need to come here? Much less in rags."

"Well, let's hear what he has to say. Shall we?"

----

Arrosh sat in the parlor upon the strange, straight backed, wooden chair so different from those of his homeland, with his head in his rough hands and decidedly ignoring the guard in the corner of the room. A prayer passing in his breaths to the gods as blood seeped from his bandage to the old slippers that some woman, a servant of sorts, insisted he wore. His bare feet were not clean enough for the rugs of the palace.

This had to work. They had to believe he was telling the truth. He had not done everything in his power to get here only to be turned away. Everything depended on it. All was lost if they did not believe.

Chapter Text

Arrosh stood when they entered and only sat when they had placed themselves on the sofa that was in front of his chair. Aravis, his sister, looked as though she was going to insist he sat in a more comfortable spot.

Before she could speak, he folded his legs atop the chair, bowing his head to both hide the grimace of pain from his leg and show respect, "With your permission, I would like to begin at once."

Time was of the essence. He inhaled and willed his muscles to relax. They would not be as keen to believe him if he was as a stone wall that spoke.

"Please, speak." The woman - his sister, answered.

It was strange to think of her as his sister. She was a queen in a far off land and he was but a pauper. He could barely remember her, her existence only fixed in his mind by his father’s blame. She was far from the image of the girl his mind could recall. Her features were softer, wrinkles starting around her eyes. The face was a shadow of the one before and the resemblance to their father was unmistakable. There was no way of knowing if she looked like his mother as the woman had died before the seeds of memory could be planted.

Nevertheless, the woman’s face said she wanted to believe him. The king, on the other hand, was another matter. It was him whom Arrosh had to convince.

Arrosh bobbed his head again and fixed his eyes on the wall between the couple, "12 years ago, a young woman, nearly a girl, came to the doors of my father's house. When the servant pronounced that Aravis had come home, father grew dark and his wife neared hysterics. The nurse took me away before I could greet you. I admit, I did not remember you well but the name I knew. I knew I wanted to see the face that belonged to the name I remembered. I snuck to the door and peeked in while my nursemaid was searching for me. And who did I see?" Arrosh looked to Aravis, letting the truth in his eyes come through, "I saw you."

The king leaned forward at this, "And why were you with your father and not off with your nurse when the servant came in to announce her coming? What time of the year was it?" Of course it would be him who would ask the first questions.

Aravis waved a hand at her husband, "Please, let him finish. We can ask questions once he has completed his tale." Cor glanced at his wife in an annoyance that was quickly stifled, he gestured for Arrosh to continue.

The young man nodded, giving a short answer for the question, "It was the appointed time for visiting when she arrived." He collected his thoughts, bringing his mind back to the fateful days so long ago, "Not a month after you left, we had to leave the only home I had ever known. When I asked why, all father would say was, 'Your sister, Aravis, did this to us.' It was not until later that I discovered it was due to the Tisroc of the time, having discovered the family’s shame that had been brought upon us, cast us from our homes and denied my father any right to trade and was stripped of his title. We were a stench in noses of our neighbors and friends.” At this, King Cor started to rise but Aravis merely looked pained and held her husband back once again.

“We moved often for over a year. Even with what was left of our father’s funds, none of the lower nobility were willing to sell or charter a house, the words of the former Tisroc tainting any goodwill they may have had for us, except at highest of prices. We, eventually, found a shack on the coast of The Great Eastern Ocean. Father was forced to learn a trade and taught me as well. His wife,"

Arrosh paused and closed his eyes, willing his features to relax. Men did not cry. He would not remember her body. He would move on. "His wife did not take our circumstances as well as our father. The sun was dark in her eyes and the will to live left her.” Arrosh set his eyes on a tapestry on the back wall, “I found her bloodied body behind our home not two weeks after we came to stay in the shack. I was 6 years old." Both king and queen sunk into their seats further, their gazes never leaving him.

He took a moment to let it set in, to bring himself back together, then continued, glancing back to them, “After the death of his second wife, Kidrash, my father, grew to be a dark and bitter man. Refusing to leave the soil that now held his wife, being too poor to buy a tomb or even make the proper sacrifices to the gods.

“We have struggled on for the past eleven years, doing what we could to survive. Iliz, my youngest sister, was hired out as a maid and nursemaid’s aide as soon as she was able.

“It was this year that Azaroth brought us into in his left hand, there was a famine in the land, and we longed for the sweet kiss of death many long nights. This last month, a sickness came upon our father. We were unable to purchase any medicines and he knew death grew near.” The pain and anger began to boil inside of Arrosh. He locked it away. It would consume him if not.

“However, it was heard that slave traders were making their way through our village before their final resting place in, and father saw his chance for life.” Arrosh desperately tried to keep the tears of rage from his eyes, he looked up at them, “During the working hours, in which I was away, he took Iliz to them and sold her. All for an herb that didn’t save him in the end.” He knew he wasn’t a proper storyteller or one that could keep the attention of a crowd, but they needed to believe him. “That is truly the only reason I have come here. She may be dead by the time I earn enough money to buy her back and to steal her back would be the death of both of us. I have no one to turn to.”

He looked into the eyes of his estranged sister and knew she believed him. “Please, help me.”

This had to work.

Chapter Text

"Do you eat frogs in your country? Do you have giants there?"  The questions came in quick succession that only a child could ask without causing offense. Fortunately, the asker was, in fact, a 10-year-old boy who went by the name of Ram, "We don't but Narnia does on one of her borders. I can’t remember which one." He was a well-rounded little boy, face still shining with baby fat and his skin a comely mix of his two parents. For the heir-prince, he was a surprisingly nice child and not stuck up as many other rich children who Arrosh vaguely remembered meeting in his short life. After finding out that Arrosh was his uncle he merely grinned and cheered that he now had two uncles instead of the one.  

Arrosh smiled a bit, "I fear we don’t eat frogs and we don’t have giants." He paused, as if thinking, then said, "We do have ghouls, however."  

"What are-"  

"Arrosh," Cor called from across the table, speaking for the first time that night, "You said you learned the building trade with your father, what did you build?" While his tone was not as skeptical nor suspicious as before, Arrosh could still guess why he was asking.  

The young man bit back a sigh, the man had plied him with questions for nearly an hour after he had told his tale. How had he gotten here? Why did you go that way? How had he found Aravis?  Now, here he was, at it again. Was it possible to just move on and accept it? At least, Arrosh thought wryly, the king was asking all the wrong questions.  

Arrosh nodded, refusing to shovel his food into his mouth and reveal just how hungry he was, "We built mostly summer homes and beach houses for the taarkans, houses of stone, mud, and clay. My father and I moved from crew to crew, not good enough to stay for any length of time, but good for meaningless tasks. Unfortunately, when one is in the lower ranks, the business is not lucrative at the best of times. However, it is one of the easier trades to start because of its nature. As the proverbs say, the lowly are Etnos’ favorite playthings." Arrosh couldn't help but shift in his chair, uncomfortable talking about his misfortune to them. At least now that Aravis had believed him that is.   

He felt like an intruder here, wearing foreigners' clothes and the hot bath having made him cleaner than he could ever remember being. He was nothing and always would be. But for his little sister? He'd do anything. Especially after what he did. It was his fault, after all, that he couldn’t get her out without having to come all the way to a strange land filled with barbarians. Thank Tash, his older sister was well known, being the queen. He had worried his father’s curses may have reached her and she would be of no help. In truth, when he left, he hadn’t known whether she was dead or alive. Yet it had been all he could think of to do, knowing precious few Calormen women ever moved to these lands - and even fewer of their free will. Now he had been given a few grains of fortune and he wasn't going waste them.  

King Cor seemed to be about to make a comment but was interrupted by his incessant, though kindly offspring. Ram leaned forward, elbows propped up on the table, utensils held firmly in his fists, "Can you fight? Boxing? Sword fighting? Shoot arrows?" That open, kind face reminded Arrosh so much of Iliz that it felt as though his heart was to burst from his chest. Why couldn’t it have been himself who was sold instead of her? By Tash, he would burn every slaver who had ever touched her to the ground.  

Arrosh chewed the inside of his lip and looked down to his plate of food he had taken such care to eat at an acceptable pace, "I am afraid not, young one. A simple builder doesn‘t learn such things." He grinned at him, "You probably know more of the arts than I do."  

"Uncle Corin could teach you!" The boy crowed, shoveling food into his mouth while trying to speak, "He's-"  

"I could teach who what now?" The booming voice of a man, who looked nearly the same as King Cor, came, "I apologize for my tardiness, brother, I got caught up in a boxing match and had to clean up first." The small bandage above his eyebrow was proof enough of that remark, "Now, I was told, in the invitation, we were to dine with a long-lost brother." He glanced at the young man before him, "By jove! This must be the lad. He looks just like Aravis! I don't see how there could be any doubt." He grinned, clapping the boy on the shoulder, causing him to wince, "Welcome to the family, lad. I'm afraid my idiot brother has neglected to tell me your name." He stuck out his hand, an impish grin that made him look years younger spread across his face, "I'm Corin, definitely the most handsome of the royal twins by far." His face was the same as his brother, their height not far from each other. The main difference was that the youngest twin was slightly broader, never having to worry about food growing up and being an avid sportsman with a variety of outlets, had helped in that regard.  

Cor sighed quietly, his hope of an ally with his lingering suspicions dashed. There was something the boy wasn't telling. He could feel it. Aravis was too spell bound by the story and boy to even consider alternate possibilities. All the what ifs. In truth, it might take Aslan himself to make him fully believe. There had to be more to it.  

Arrosh gripped his hand and bowed his head, uncertain of what sort of custom he was supposed to perform. Bowing was the norm in Calormen. Not whatever this was. "I am Arrosh, son of Kidrash. It’s an honor to meet you, sire." He let go of the hand, hoping he hadn’t caused offense. What was the title for the brother of the king? Did they have tarkaans here? The man hadn’t given one, yet he must have one.  

Corin gave a lighthearted laugh and plopped himself on the chair between Arrosh and Ram. He ruffled the younger boy's hair, smiling, "And how goes training, Ramlet?”  

"Can you teach Uncle Rosh to fight?" Ram hopped up and down in his chair, ignoring his uncle's question, "He says he don't know how!"  

“Doesn't’.” Aravis and Cor quietly corrected at the same time, which caused them to glance at each other and grin.  

"Already got nicknames, eh?" Corin chuckled, ignoring the two. Quickly distracted, his eyes widened at the plate of food set before him by a servant, "Thank you, Beatris." He dug into the food as though famished. Manners, apparently, were only for when guests were around. Or mayhaps not at all. Who knew what the barbarian customs were around here? Here he was, seated on a chair where his feet only touched the floor if they were extended and at a table taller than the chairs. The expanse of his ignorance was vast.  

Before the little boy could answer, an older woman came in, curtsied to the king and queen, then a slightly smaller one for Corin, "I apologize for the intrusion, your highnesses, but I fear it is time for the young prince to come away for a bath and prepare for bed."  

Ram groaned and tilted his head back, "Not yet, Nanny. Please." He proceeded to plead with her with his eyes, "I promise I'll be good going bed."   

Arrosh looked away, surely the boy would be punished for resisting. He remembered well enough his own father’s ideas on such matters even before his second wife had died.  

"Go on, Ram." Aravis waved him away with a smile that gave no room for argument, "You shall see your uncles tomorrow."  

The boy knew he was defeated and slumped dramatically, "Yes, mother." He got off the chair with a big show, before dropping the act to start going around the table giving a hug and a, "Good night."  

Coming to Arrosh last, Ram barreled into the older boy and hugged him tight, "Good night!" He pulled away saying as he left, "You really should have Uncle Corin teach you to fight. It's such fun!" At this, he started chattering to the nanny, telling her all about what little he knew about his newfound uncle - exaggerating as children tend to do.  

Arrosh smiled some and gave a wave. He was glad the boy hadn’t been reprimanded heavily for asking. Ram was a good sort and the gods bless him for making this dinner that much easier. Now that he was gone, what was to happen? A pit knotted in his stomach and he took a bite of food to wash the feeling away. All it did was turn to sand.  

Before silence could fully descend on the group, Corin sat forward, "So, I've been told little of the situation we have come to, but what I do know is there’s a little girl in dire need of our assistance." He gestured around as though conjuring her up himself, "What's the plan?"  

King Cor looked up from his food, “A plan? What plan?”  

----  

Aravis watched her brother, he was her brother most certainly and that she knew, out of the corner of her eye in an attempt not to stare at him. It rarely worked. Yet as much as she looked at him and wondered, the words refused to come and she found herself a mute in his presence.  

What sort of life had he lived because of her? Had he suffered much? Though Archenlander clothing was loose and willowy, she could tell he was a few bites from starvation before coming here. As he spoke with Ram she could see his lighthearted smiles and fun remarks to keep a young boy interested. But there was a deep sadness in his eyes that not even a smile could hide. He was hurting and it was all her fault.  

Finally, she was able to say, “Then this is the perfect time to make a plan.” She managed a smile at her brother, “Let us begin at once.”  

Chapter Text

The rising sun filtered through the window of the luscious guest room, caressing the sides of the open shades, exposing the dust moats swirling through the air, and finally landing upon the empty bed. There was not a wrinkle out of place, as though no one had slept in it that night.

It was not because of this that the morning maid received the fright of her young life. But, rather, it was when she found the young man upon the floor next to the aforementioned bed. His body was sprawled out, in his day clothes, as though he had fallen and died before he had even gotten into bed.

With all of this in consideration, it is no surprise that girl couldn't help the loud gasp, nearly a cry truly, that escaped her lips before covering her mouth with her own hand, her eyes wide with horror. At this, the supposed body jerked violently at the noise and scrambled into a standing position with fists raised.

The unfortunate maid fainted dead away before he had even fully stood.

XxX

The room tilted and dipped as Arrosh oriented himself from getting up so quickly. By Tash, who had screamed? Why? What was happening?

There was a thud and with another blink Arrosh registered a young woman on the floor. A maid, presumably. Color rushed to his face as he realized what had happened. He crossed the room to the fainted woman.

He crouched over her some, patting her face kindly, almost afraid to touch her barbarian pale skin, "Madam? Wake up, madam." She was young compared to the other servants he had seen around here. Her hair was a fair, curly blonde that peeped out of her starch white cap, face smooth and never touched by a whip.

Why had she been in his room? Were maids supposed to do that here? Iliz rarely spoke of what she did in the great houses but was always more interested in playing after she was released. Even when she had grown much closer to being a young woman than a child, she had never talked much about what happened behind those grand doors. It was work, and why toil again in memory, is what she would say.

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the thought of his little sister. Iliz was gone and it was his fault. He hadn’t been there, he couldn’t get her back on his own.

The maid blinked and gave a small groan before fully opening her eyes. As she took in the foreign young man above her, her eyes widened and she rocketed up, colliding with him.

Both fell back in mutual pain and rubbing their foreheads. "I do apologize, sir! Oh, I am ever so sorry." She began to babble as she got up, "I was just coming in to do my work with the fires and I saw you there on the floor. I thought you were dead and oh, I do apologize, sire. I've only just started you see and -" She looked down, her face heating up, her pale skin changing to a shade of red, "I'm sorry to trouble you, sir. I'll be going now, sir." She bobbed a curtsy and began to leave.

"Wait," Arrosh picked himself off the floor, "What's your name?"

The girl paled. It was interesting how, with light skin, it changed color so easily, "My name is Fesh, sir." Her hands shook before she hid them behind her back as she waited to be dismissed. Was this what it had been like for his sister whenever she had gotten into trouble? No. He knew that Iliz had received far more than a scolding for her mishaps and mistakes. He was the one who tended to wounds left behind from a whipping. If there were such customs in this land, they hid it well.

Arrosh nodded a bit, "Please, do not be sorry, Madam Fesh. I shouldn't have been on the floor in the first place." He looked down, at least it was easier to talk to someone of his own station - for the most part. Next time, he would simply have to overcome the fact that the bed felt as though it were going to swallow him whole. Not that he would be here for much longer. They were to leave this afternoon on a ship for Calormen, time being of the essence.

Fesh didn't seem to know what to say but managed a curtsy, "Breakfast is in an hour, sire. Just ask anyone and they'll show you where to go." She turned to go.

"Madam Fesh, please," Arrosh called after her, giving her the smile he knew made a person at ease, "Call me Arrosh. Truly, I am no tarkan or anyone of great importance."

She gave a small grin in return, "I'm afraid I cannot, sir." She dipped her head some to hide her face, "You are the long-lost brother of the queen and far from not being important." She curtsied again, "I thank you for the thought, though." With that, she went on her way.

Arrosh frowned. He wasn't sure he liked the thought of that. But if it was what it took to get Iliz, then so be it. If he had to pretend that he loved Aravis as his own kin, then he would. Anything. He had already proven that after what he had done. Hopefully, this would be enough to still get his sister back. She was all he had left.

XxX

Aravis paced the room, her hand curled around her chin, as she counted her steps. 1, 2, 3, 4… 30 large paces. Her eyes went to the empty bed, rumpled with an ill night's sleep, and her speed increased.

123456….

Of course, something would happen right before an important journey. When would Cor get back here?

She stopped her pacing and took a breath. It was just a visitor from Narnia. Why did she feel so worried then? There was nothing to be upset about surely. It was just that it was usually the kings and queens themselves who would come - and that the visitor had come in the dead of night.

The creak of the door came and Cor stuck his head in. Aravis felt her heart drop at the look on his face. Something was terribly wrong. It was if he had aged 100 years within a night.

He started to mutter something to her before he shook his head, "I won't tell it a hundred different times to everyone. If you could gather Corin, and the other advisors together in the council room, I would much appreciate it."

"What are we to do with Arrosh?" She asked, before he could leave, "Breakfast is in 10 minutes."

Cor waved his hand, his head a million miles away from that problem, "Uh, give him to Ram and have a tour given - with servants mind you. I don't want them getting into trouble. Who knows what Ram would get him into if given the chance.” He gave her an apologetic look, the sadness he had such a small hold on showing at the creases of his eyes, "I'm sorry, Aravis, I have to go now. I'll see you in the council room in 15 minutes and explain everything." He left before she could say anymore.

Aravis took a breath and set to work. Fluttering her hands in a state of worry wouldn't get anything done.

XxX

Arrosh meandered about the halls, both sickened and in awe of the place around him, not daring to enter any of the rooms. Every hall had a tapestry of what he presumed to be the Archenland flag, having seen it during his travels as well, with others depicting different scenes of hunts and stories. The floor was a marble that was cool and smooth beneath his feet, pillars with intricate designs running up to the high ceilings. How could people live in such a place? Well, he had once. Though not for long and not quite so grand if his child memories were true. What sort of person would he be if he had?

Passing a tall, wooden clock, he realized that it was nearly time for the morning meal. He managed to locate some form of a manservant.

"I was told breakfast was soon." He said, embarrassed to be asking or what could seem to be ordering anyone to do anything. People were supposed to be ordering him. "Would you mind showing me where it is? I'm afraid I'm rather lost."

The man looked him over and a smile grew on his face, "Why, of course, sire. Right this way." He began to lead him away, "I'm Ude, by the way. You must be Queen Aravis' brother. You've caused quite a to do around the palace I must say." He turned a corner, "Everyone is dying to get a look at you. Say, you're the spitting image of your sister." Another corner was turned, "They say you come from the bottom, right? Right. I was meant to be your valet but it was decided they would rather not overwhelm you. The king himself came from such a station, before he was discovered, and said he knew the feeling well."

Wait, he had? Out of everything he had heard spewed about Aravis from his father, not once had the man mentioned her husband beyond that he was a barbarian fool, cursed by the gods. None of them had even known he was a king or, truly, if she had ever married. But their father had claimed she had and for once he was right.

They came to a large set of double doors, "Here you are, sir. Have a good meal." He opened the door and left before Arrosh could get as much as a word out.

"Uncle Rosh!" Came the child voice of his newfound nephew, "Dad and Mum are doing something real important so you get to have breakfast with me!"

Arrosh felt his heart drop but managed to keep it from his face and voice, "Is that so, little one?" He went and sat next to Ram, ruffling the child’s hair as he’d seen Corin do, "What happens after breakfast?" Silently, he prayed to the gods that nothing so important to have delayed their journey happened.

Food was placed before him and he nearly balked at it. It was far from what was the norm in Calormen. Last night he hadn't even noticed much of anything about his food. due to sheer relief. But now, before him were slices of bread toasted with a whitish yellow melting square atop, strips of cooked meat, and a heap of some light-yellow substance. Tentatively, he took a bite of the heap of yellow, using one of the scooping utensiles. Not dreadful. The texture was odd but the taste was one he didn’t mind despite the lack of spices.

"Usually, I would go start my schooling." Ram said between bites of food. "But today I get to give you a tour with Master Lunten!” He shoveled a few more bites in, “He says he’ll be waiting for us outside of the kitchens.”

“And where will I be shown around? Inside? Outside?” Arrosh decided that the boy didn’t care how he ate, and he wasn’t going to know the boy long enough to care what he thought of him. He set to shoveling the food in his mouth. Never knew when it would be his last meal after all.

Ram, as Arrosh expected he would, took no notice of how his newfound uncle ate. Uncle Corin ate like a slob in front of family, so it didn’t matter much to him. At Arrosh’s question, he waved his hand, “Inside is boring! You’ll see the stuff on the way to the kitchen but after that it’ll be the great outdoors!” He started to squirm, food nearly finished, “There’s the training grounds. Where they keep the hounds. The archery range. The -”

Arrosh waved his hands with a smile, “Woah, woah, woah, young one. You must leave at least some of them a surprise!”

This was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do right now. Preparing to leave? More than anything. Not being dragged around by a nephew he never even knew he had. He liked the boy and all but he had a little sister to get back.

XxX

The council sat around the table in a solemn circle. Cor looked more frazzled than a king ought to be when appearing before his subjects. His curly hair stuck out at odd ends, and it was evident that he hadn’t slept that night. Yet, through the appearance, he didn’t seem panicked or unsure of himself. He was no longer the scared, confused boy who survived a battle only by Aslan’s mane. He was every bit the king his father had wished him to be.

“To save you from the suspense, I will tell all of you the problem we are facing first and then give you the details.” He placed his hands on the table and looked to Aravis before looking to each of his council, “The four rulers of Narnia, our friends and allies, are missing.”

There was a beat of silence with everyone at the table sitting as though struck, another second passed, and then the room erupted as the king’s words finally sunk in.

Chapter Text

“Uncle,” The young boy, though not much younger than Iliz if Arrosh thought about it, had been trotting ahead as they worked their way through the Anvard grounds. They had been to the archery range, the stables, and their current course was taking them to the training grounds. Ram slowed slightly, looking thoughtful, “Who is Etnos?”  

Arrosh nearly stumbled, “You mean to say you have not been taught who Etnos is?”  

Ram shook his head, his black hair glinting in the sun, a small frown pinching between his brows, “No, that’s why I asked. It’s no fun asking questions you already know the answer to.”  

Arrosh tried hard not to frown back, “Have you heard of Azaroth? Or Zardeenah, Lady of the Night?” Gods forbid, the boy must have known of Tash.  

Again, Ram shook his head, his round face screwed up in confusion, “Are they heros or great leaders of Calormen?”  

It was getting increasingly difficult to keep the astonishment from his voice, “Your mother, she has not taught you of the gods of her people?”  

The boy looked away, seeming put out, “Mum doesn’t really talk about where she came from. Says she ran away because she didn’t want to marry someone she didn’t love, he was old and mean or something. Then she met Dad while she was running away with Hwin.” He shrugged, before perking up, “I did learn that in my studies, you have a tisroc instead of a king and, um, your people don’t like Aslan?”  

Aravis hadn’t even taught the boy of her homeland? He knew nothing about the land of his ancestry? It brought a sour feeling to his stomach to think of it. He was not particularly religious, not having the funds for sacrifices or much interest beyond acknowledging their existence. It wasn't as if the gods actually cared for him, a forgotten boy with nothing to give.

For now, this would be put aside. Aravis probably had her own reasons. Just like she had the ones she had for abandoning her family. She was helping now and that was what mattered.

Arrosh forced a grin down at the boy, “Well then, I shall have to tell you all about it then. Etnos is the god of work, toil, and fortune.” Behind him, the silent servant looked up, opened his mouth before changing his mind and closing it again.  

“Just those things? Why isn’t he god of everything?”  

“Well, we have others for the other things, but our head god, the great god is Tash the Inexorable.”  

“What does inexorable mean?”  

Arrosh blinked, his schooling had never gone that far, “I don’t know. It must mean he’s important, I guess.”  

The boy scratched his head, “Why so many when you could just have one? We have Aslan, the lion and he’s the best.”  

“Why have only one when you can have many?” Arrosh arched an eyebrow at the boy in good humor.  

“Ah, look, we are nearly to the training grounds,” Lunten, the servant pointed out the area that was coming into view.  

Up ahead, now that he was silent, the clash of steel against steel and several cheers of onlookers could be heard easily from afar as Arrosh followed his young guide, trailed by the servant. The glint of their swords flickered in the blazing sun of the late morning and, if he closed his eyes, Arrosh could almost believe that he was home for just a moment. Oh, to be home once again. But that likelihood would never be possible. Not after what had happened. Even if they could get Iliz, it was unlikely they would be able to stay.  

Now wasn’t the time to contemplate these things. He would become much too solemn for the boy bouncing his way ahead of him, having already forgotten his questions. Turning his attention to his surroundings, Arrosh tried to take everything in. The grounds were kept well, the grass low and areas close to the palace had gardens full of strange flowering plants. The rest of the land stretched out into a long field before turning into the woodlands that seemed so common in Archenland. Home seemed whole worlds away here as opposed to a mere desert.  

He could only hope that Aravis and King Cor would be willing to have him and his sister. But that was a matter for after he got her back. If what he had heard was right, she had been sold to a man who wasn't likely to sell her again for some time. This could be good and bad. Surely these royals had enough money to persuade the man of the house to part with one measly slave girl. He'd work the rest of his life to repay them if needed. As the proverbs said, better to be a slave in your brother’s house than a stranger’s. Or sister’s in this case.  

"...you should try it!" The energetic boy at his side was saying something as they went towards a crowd of people standing around a combat ring.  

"Try what, Ramlet?" Arrosh smiled down at his nephew, trying out the nickname the others had given him. It felt odd in his mouth. Like sucking on a river pebble hoping for it to give you water. 

His father hadn't been lying for once, though. The man’s own features hid in the face of this young boy. Now that Arrosh looked for it, at least. The strong nose, dark eyes, curly black hair. The rest was his father, the shape of the face, and a grin that mirrored his uncle's. This was the family he had only heard dreadful stories of his entire life. He had cast himself to the barbarians in the desperate hope of salvation. What would Iliz think of him now?

"Practicing in the ring!" Ram's dark curls bounced as he skipped and hopped along like a hare in spring, "I could get Sir Orran to teach you something! He's real nice and teaches me when Uncle Corin can't." They were closer now and the sound of fighting had died down as those around had stopped to look at the newcomer.  

"I don't-" Arrosh began but was tugged forward relentlessly by the soft hand of his nephew.  

"Sir Orran! Sir Orran!" The boy called, dragging them through the crowd of onlookers. He was either accustomed to the looks or took no notice of them as he bounced towards a large, mountain of a man with a long dirty blond braid running down his back and a sword at his side. Who was King Cor in comparison to this monstrosity?  

The boy ran straight up to the man, bouncing and gesturing back at Arrosh where he had left him behind several paces ago, "Sir Orran, this is my uncle, Arrosh! He's mum's brother from far away."  

At that moment, the massive man did the most terrifying thing Arrosh could ever have seen a man of his size do. He smiled and bowed his head in greeting. Arrosh took a step back and bowed as well, his insides quaking. Men seemingly made of stone did not smile. It was unnatural. He kept his head bowed and listened to his little nephew babble on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the men finally begin going about their business and take no more notice of him. Words swirled around among them and some he could pick up.  

"Harvest will be good this year. I can feel it in my bones."  

"Heard he used to be a slave."  

"Looks like he was."  

"Looks just like the Queen more like it."  

"You just think that because he's the first Calormen person besides her that you've ever seen."  

"Of course, I could teach him a thing or two, if he's willing, Prince Ram." A deep, rattling voice came from above and Arrosh was shunted back to the matter at hand.  

A hand tugged at the hem of his shirt and Ram was saying, "Don't worry. He won't do nothin to ya."  

There was a mutter from the servant behind them and Ram screwed up his face for a moment before saying with mock primness, "There is nothing to worry about, Uncle. Sir Orran shall not harm you futilely. Fatally, I mean." He gave the servant, or tutor possibly, a look that asked if that was enough. Apparently, it was because no further comment was made.  

Arrosh tried to smile some, "Alright then, nephew. I accept." If he was to stay on their good side, he'd do just about anything asked of him. From one slavery of a kind to another. At least, this one was more comfortable than the former. So far. Though this didn’t seem to be the best idea he’d had of late and wasn’t entirely sure that agreeing to anything should extend to the ten-year-old.  

Orran gave that dreadful smile again and beckoned for Arrosh to follow him before heading into the depths of the milling people. Ram stayed behind to speak to a man and to stay near the ring.  

They came upon several rows of racks containing various weapons. "Ram timed your tour well." Orran gestured to them, "For the next two hours is the only time you will see these weapons before they are counted and locked away. Any other time they are only in the hands of the guards on duty and royalty." He shifted so his back was to the prince behind them and fixed Arrosh with a hard look before continuing as though nothing had happened, "How much do you know of weaponry and the art of fighting, sir?" He gave Arrosh a glance over, "Prince Ram says you've claimed to know nothing. Yet, you don't have the appearance of a man who knows naught in the arts." His smile had vanished and his eyes gone cold. Strange how a sudden change in demeanor could really turn one's blood to cold.  

Arrosh shrugged, not looking at the man, instead focusing his gaze just past the man’s upper arm, "I fear you have misread me, Sir Orran. I know nothing of these sorts of things." He glanced back at Ram with a wry grin, "I fear the boy is going to be dreadfully disappointed when he comes to the realization that I am far from the warrior Sir Corin is. I am merely a builder from Calormen." He looked up at the grim-faced man, his grin wilting like a flower in a drought, "Please, simply call me Arrosh. I am of no importance and there is no need to call me sir."  

He bent down to look Arrosh in the face, still facing away from Ram, "If you are who you claim to be then you are important." His gaze pierced the boy's skin like nails being driven through him as he scrutinized Arrosh, "If you're merely the mercenary I, and several others, suspect you to be then you are not deserving, Arrosh." He stood and gestured to the racks, "Now, choose your weapon and we shall see what you're made of."  

There was an array of weapons to choose from, swords, spears, axes, even a few maces. Arrosh chose a weapon at random, which happened to be an axe that was far too large for him. He gave the man before him a look of confusion and worry, "I fear I know nothing of weapons, sir. How do you plan on going about teaching me something?" His grip on the weapon was loose and it hung low near the ground. Why must his heart try escaping through his throat? Why must he do this? Ram had said he wouldn’t be hurt. Surely, this giant wouldn’t hurt him in front of the little boy. Surely.   

Orran worked his jaw and looked over at the ring, "Well, we got to see what you're made of first, Arrosh. Then comes training." He took him by the shoulder and led him towards the ring, "Come, now, let's not disappoint your so called nephew." There was a sinister anticipation to the man's voice that the younger man did not appreciate in the slightest.

They stepped inside the ring and a chorus of shouts rose up from the crowd. Obviously, many were of the viewpoint that he was not who he said he was. By Tash, why had he agreed to this? He was going to die. Even if he were to fight, how could he fight a man of that size? It was what he got for trusting the word of a boy. The man did not care whether it was in front of the child or not.  All her had to do was claim it as an accident.

They wouldn’t be able to get Iliz if he was dead. He had given them information, but she didn’t know them and they wouldn’t be able to recognize her. Oh, what had he done? A cold hand started to slip over his heart, he hadn't planned to get into this, but he'd work forever in the Pits of Etnos before letting this man kill him if he could help it.

Orran, smiled over at Ram, "First, Prince Ram, we will see what he is made of. Then we will work from there." A cheer came from the now growing crowd. Ram whooped right along with them. Did he not understand what was going on? Surely not.  

"Absolutely not." The authoritative voice cracked like a whip through the air above the shouts, "Master Orran, please come out of the ring and bring the Queen's brother to me." Silence and a moment later straight line to the beholder of the voice was formed. King Cor. All went to one knee as they saw who it was that addressed them. Arrosh scrambled to do the same. Was this the custom? Maybe he should have prostrated himself when he first came to them. That was the custom in Calormen after all. Maybe the king would have looked at him more kindly if he had.  

The king nodded and they rose. Orran immediately began to bring Arrosh forward and out of the ring, nearly dragging him down the line of onlookers. If he had wanted to make a good impression on them or his brother-in-law, it was certainly lost now. Not that it mattered. Planted before the king, Arrosh bowed his upper half again. Was he in trouble? Had he done something wrong? Did they decide to not believe him? Did they change their minds?  

"Come with me, please, Arrosh." King Cor's face was unreadable, he looked to Ram and his teacher, "We will discuss this later. For now, go to your studies." He turned and left, his pace brisk and leaving Arrosh needing to trot to catch up  

---

“You do understand that pacing the room will not change the situation, right?” Corin lounged in his chair, feet propped up on a small end table in the parlor of her room. He picked at his nails, not looking up at her, “You know I’m not happy about this situation either. Narnia has been our ally for as long as I can remember and we can’t just stand to the side when their regents have vanished.”   

“That is not the reason I am pacing, Corin!” Aravis gritted out between her teeth, wishing her husband was there. But he was getting Arrosh and telling him the news himself, while the other preparations were being made.  

“You do not think I loved them as my own flesh?” Corin, the man usually so bright and cheerful, brought his feet down, looking at her, “Peter was as an uncle to me, Lucy and Edmund dearest brother and sister, Susan,” His voice cracked and he looked away, “Susan was near to me as a mother.” He was slumped, his breathing carefully even, controlled. He wasn’t the boy prone to emotional fits any longer, but that didn’t stop the pain shining through.  

Aravis, stopped, trying desperately to keep the tears from her eyes, “I’m sorry, Corin, you’ve known them far longer than I have.” She paused, “It’s difficult to believe that you’re coming.”  

“My brother is needed here to support our friends and allies, especially if the worst comes about, and I will not leave what is left of my family to go on a possibly dangerous mission to save a little girl.” Corin cocked his head with an attempt at a grin, “Peter would have my head when he gets back. Anyways, I’m sure they just got lost somehow. Trees might be chatter roots when they want to be, but their communication isn’t always easily relied upon.”  

Aravis took a breath, “I just don’t know if I should regret my decision. We should be searching for them.”  

“Well, you know what your husband thinks about the whole thing, and I think he’s right, for once.” A small smirk flashed across his face before he looked up at her, “Come now, sit down before you work yourself into a tizzy. Your brother, and little sister, need you at top notch.”  

She sat, placing her head in her hands and took deep breaths, “The decision has been made and I will not go back on my word to him. I won’t.” When her head raised, she was in control of herself once again. “I think Cor will have gotten my brother out of that silly ring by now, if what the servants said is true.” She stood with Corin, her hand on his shoulder, “Thank you.”  

----

Cor and Arrosh came to an expansive room, much like the throne room he had been admitted to not two days before. The difference was that this room had a large, round table with hard backed wooden chairs lining it. Each chair had a crest upon the back of it and not a single person sat in them. It was just the king and the boy.  

Silence stretched between them for a time, in which Arrosh took the opportunity to look around. It was a high-ceilinged place with thin, colored windows lifting from the floor to a foot away from the ceiling on the eastern and north sides of the room. The patterns upon them were exquisite, portraying the various symbols that crested the seats. What was left of the morning sun trickled through the tops of them and cast their colors on the far wall and floor. Yet one was there that he did not see among the chairs, it was the face of a lion, the largest by far and placed directly in the middle of the north wall. His heart pounded at the sight of it and he found he couldn't look away. It was like nothing he had ever seen. Only in the horrifying stories of The Lion God of the North had he heard descriptions of a lion. How had he forgotten that he had cast himself at the feet of people who worship this terrifying god? Did they have sacrifices he knew not about?   

"I want to tell you," Cor began, not noticing how fixated the boy had been on that particular window, "No matter what happens, I do hope you get your little sister back."  

Arrosh turned, the window and his irrational fears forgotten, to be replaced with the rational ones, "Might I ask what that is supposed to mean, your highness?" He looked the man in the eye and quelled the tears that begged to swim up to his eyes. All was lost if he was unable to get their help. Was this what they had planned all along?  

"All I'm saying is -" He began, before the doors were opened once again. Aravis and Corin entered the room. Neither looked particularly pleased at the situation.  

Arrosh looked around, his heart had either burst and no longer beat, or it was going at such a rate he could no longer feel it. "Please, tell me what is going on."   

"Let us all sit." Aravis said, her calm demeanor had shifted from when he had first met her. Her hair was askew and there was the traces of a frown laden on her face, a sadness. What had he done? What had happened?  

When all were seated, Cor leaned forward on the table, his elbows propped against it and his hands folded near his mouth, "I will waste no time explaining. The situation does not pertain to  you. All you need to know is this.” He looked to the young man, “Plans have changed, Arrosh."  

The world tilted and the boy had to grab the arm of the chair to keep from falling out, "But," His voice was barely a whisper. This was not good. He was never to free her now. She would die. He had failed.  

"But we will still help you in any way we can." Cor put his hands down, "I had planned to go myself, with the queen, and we would be back in just under a month." He paused, looking at the worn wood of the table, "However, there are now circumstances that keep me from leaving and I must stay with my people. While they also need their queen, she has decided to continue with the plan to go with you. With her, will go my brother and two guards." His back was stiff and his jaw worked back and forth as though he was chewing the bones of his enemies. "As we don't want to attract too much attention, you will be traveling light. Tomorrow afternoon, you will go." He stood, looking far older than he was, "Be at the gate after the noon meal. I would stay to entertain and help you, but I have matters to attend to." He looked to Corin, looking a hundred years old, an understanding passing between the two, "Help him prepare, please."  

Corin nodded, giving a small smile to his twin, "It will all turn out alright, brother. We will be back before you know it! Worry not. What is lost shall be found and all will be well again."  

"By Alsan, may it be so."  

Cor left and a brief silence came before Corin turned to Arrosh with a mischievous grin, even so there was a sadness in his eyes, "Pray tell, what is this I hear about you taking up in a bout with Sir Orran?"  

Chapter Text

“Now, I can believe that you know nothing of weapons play,” Corin started conversationally as he and Arrosh walked down the halls, going to the stores to see if they could scrounge up a small bag for an extra change of clothes that had been whipped up, along with whatever else they could muster for the lad, “But I find it hard to believe you know nothing of boxing or the like.”  

“Boxing, your highness?” The young man frowned at him slightly, his leg was still causing him to limp ever so slightly, “That is not common in Calormen. There are a few other forms, but I was given no opportunity to learn those.”  

“So, you’ve never fought before?” Now that was unlikely. What man didn't get in a fight every now and again? Even Corin had his bouts with the sword, or duels rather.

At this the boy looked away for a moment, distracted by one of the maids who had passed by at the edge of the hall probably, then looked back, a wry smile on his face, “What boy doesn’t get in childhood scraps, sir? After childhood, however, I have tried my best to stay out of such matters. One should try not to get locked up when you have a family to support. As the proverbs say, ‘a poor man prone to violence tarries towards the slaver’s scourge.’”  

Corin nodded, wondering if he should press the questioning. Sir Orran had pointed out that the boy’s gait was that closer to someone who knew at the least how to fight hand to hand, and, now that he was looking closely, Corin conceded that it might be so. But there were many other factors that contributed to a man’s gait, and none of it was solid proof of anything. Working with masonry, living a workman’s life, and an injury was sure to have affected it as well.  

Orran wanted it to be that the boy was hiding skills for nefarious reasons. It was more like he was in a strange land, with strange customs, and didn’t trust them fully. Who could blame him? His own father sold his little sister. That wasn’t something that inspired confidence for those around you.  

“So, you are to take the King’s place in the plan?” The young man asked, looking over at him. It was strange how those eyes felt as though they could pierce wood and bone, soul and flesh, but give so little away about the beholder.

“Yes,” Corin put on a cocky grin, pushing away such musings, as they came to one of the storerooms. “How do you think I’ll look as a rich, shadows merchant?” It sounded rather fun for what it was worth.

---

“Are you sure this cannot wait?” Cor asked for what must have been the sixth time, “It shouldn’t take long to find them. Afterwards we can get the girl.” With Corin there, he had agreed for his wife to go. But it didn’t mean he was relishing the idea.  

“We don’t know that, Cor.” Aravis sighed, shaking out the few dresses and face coverings that she’d had quickly made. One was designed to look like a servant’s garments, along with some plain Archenland clothing often worn by servants. Both would be brought, it hadn’t been decided whether it was best for Cor – Corin, rather, to be an illegal, shadows merchant who wanted his servants to look ‘exotic’ or dress as others did in his homeland. “If the worst happens, Narnia will need you to help them through the confusing times they will have.”  

“Narnia will need both the king and queen of Archenland to help them through their trials.” Corin replied, then softer, “I’ll need you.”  

Aravis turned to her husband, cupping her hand against his face, “Believe me, if I could, I would stay. But this girl is my sister just as much as she is Arrosh’s and I cannot send someone in my stead. I must see this through, Cor.” It’s my fault that she’s in this mess.  

Cor looked down at her, placing his hands on her shoulders, sighing, “I will endeavor to understand.” He brought his forehead to hers, “Please, don’t let your self-blame lead you to do anything brash.” He quirked a small smile, “I don’t want to start a war with Calormen if I can help it. It’s not your fault this happened – any of it. It’s the tisroc who did that and your father.”  

Aravis turned her head aside, “It is my fault, Cor. But that doesn’t mean I would change anything or can change what has happened. I’m just going to do what I can to make things right.” She sniffed, shooting him a small glare, “Which most certainly is not starting a war with Calormen. I’m not such a bumbling fool as that.”  

Cor raised his hands, trying to seem lighthearted, “It was a jest!”   

“You would do better to leave the jesting to Corin, dear,” Aravis raised an eyebrow, “All will be well, nobody will know who we truly are and, in this case, the smuggling issues in our country is to our advantage.” Aravis frowned, “Though, it is an issue we will have to see to. I don’t like the thought of our people being willing to buy slaves.”  

Cor ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, “Yes, we’ll add that to the list. Maybe you’ll get insight on how it all works while you’re gone. Not that there’s many of them from the reports I’ve heard.”  

“You know what they say about rotten fruit in a barrel.”  

“Yes,” He said, working his jaw, “Especially if that rotten fruit is the one who got you to go on the journey in the first place.”  

“I trust him, Cor. There’s no way he isn’t my father’s son.” Aravis crossed her arms, not wanting to go over this yet again.  

“Yes, yes.” The king waved his hand, “Just know the only reason I’m letting this happen is because you will have some of our best warriors with you and some more besides.” Cor looked across the room at the dresses, “Just, be careful, please. He may be your brother, but that doesn’t mean much at times.”  

“Of course I will.”  

Cor took a breath, looking at her, “By Aslan, I’m going to miss you.” This would be the first time since they’d been married that they would be apart for so long.  

“You’re going to miss bickering constantly and always having someone to nag you?” Aravis raised an eyebrow at him, trying to keep the smirk from her face.  

“Yes,” He stepped closer to her, a small grin on his face, “What ever should I do without my sparring partner? If I don’t have someone getting on my nerves then I grow far too complacent.”  

Aravis smiled up at him, lacing her arms around his neck, “Then I’ll have to tell Ram to be particularly good, so you’ll miss me even more.”  

“You know, I never did get back to what we were doing earlier, before we were so inconveniently interrupted.” Cor looked her over, brushing a strange of hair away from her face.  

“And here I was wondering if you’d forgotten.” His wife faked a frown, “You do know it is quite rude to keep a lady waiting.”  

“That,” Cor kissed her softly, “Is something I will never forget to get back to, my lady.”  

“Then you better make up for the wait,” Aravis moved her hands to her husband’s chest, fingering the opening of his collar.  

---

Arrosh sat in his room on the floor, not sure what to do with himself, as he held a small bag with a change of plain Archenlander clothes and his own freshly washed.   

Corin had left to the local market to get supplies and to make sure everything was in order, the queen was off doing something, and Ram was occupied with his lessons. What was he to do? No instructions had been given. Could he wander around? Would that seem wrong?  

Corin had seemed intent on finding out whether he could fight or not. Was that because they were suspicious? What was this nonsense of holding himself like someone who knew such things? He held himself like a man, as his father had required of him. Did they think that he was hiding something? Were they worried of some elaborate betrayal?  

Arrosh gave a small groan, letting the bag go to the floor, this was more complicated than he had thought it would be. Then again, he hadn’t truly expected to be able to get here. Part of him had wished he’d died trying. But being dead wasn’t going to help Iliz. He just needed to get back to Calormen, not get caught, get his sister, and get away. Simple as that, right? Right.  

Leaning his head against the wall, Arrosh closed his eyes, willing the curdling feeling away from his stomach. He had been a fool and now he was paying the price. The agony of waiting was sitting deep in his stomach. What was happening to Iliz even now as he sat here doing nothing?  

His father just couldn’t have sold him instead? He was stronger, more useful, and accustomed to hard labor. He would have fetched a price high enough for medicine and shoes at the least. Iliz, had gotten barely enough for the medicine. At least she wasn’t old enough to be of any desire in the ways of men. The slaver had a wife with a new child, it was said, so maybe she’d become an aide for the child. Or she was a kitchen slave. All Arrosh knew was that the slaver often kept the children, waiting for them to age so they would fetch a better price. Though, it was not uncommon for children to be sold as well when there were too many of them. Azaroth keep her in his right palm, he hoped she was okay.  

In the quiet of his room, the boy let himself shed a tear, his head sinking to his hands. Did he even dare hope that she would be where he last knew her to be? How would he find her if not? He’d found out her number before fleeing. Yes, that would be the only way. May it not be needed.  

May his father be agonized in the Pits of Tash for what he did.

Not that Arrosh himself was going anywhere better after his own actions.

Chapter Text

“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 husband. They 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 winds had 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, was more difficult than he had expected. Arrosh didn’t truly care all that much, but it was better than standing there in silence, not knowing what to speak of. She 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...”

Chapter Text

With his stomach content, a lack of pressing duties – or any for that matter, and the lethargy that tended to overcome the mind when in one place for too long, Arrosh lounged back in his hammock. A good gaze into the world between his vision and his mind was just what he needed. To let his thoughts run their course. Who knew when he would have the chance to again? It wasn’t as if they would be still for long once they were in port. Gods and fortune permitting, everything would fall into place quickly. With this in mind, the boy chose a spot among the slats of wood in churning ship and began to let his thoughts slide. 

Aravis’ story, it still rattled in his mind, how much of it was embellished? Surely, she hadn’t truly met with that terrible Narnian god and he had not acted as such. One did not meet the gods. You gave offerings, if you could, and hoped they looked on you with favor or did what you wanted them to. People were the toys of the gods and the gods a being to be manipulated for good favor by the people. He could nearly believe that she’d found talking horses that had been stolen away and a boy who was running away as well. He could even believe that she had been chased by lions. They weren’t particularly rare creatures. But that the lions – or lion rather was the Narnian demon? What had it been doing in Calormen lands? No. It couldn’t be.  

Her reasoning at the time for leaving had been as he’d suspected, a child bride doomed to marry an old, corrupt man. But that the boy she traveled with turned out to be the lost prince of a far-off land? Though, how else had she managed to insert herself into the royal court of Archenland? It was all so much.  

Was she truly one of the reasons Tisroc Rabidash’s, may he live forever, plans had been foiled when he was a prince? The man had been turned into a donkey! Arrosh had been too young to fully know of it when it had happened, but he had heard the stories. They were the main reason he knew of Narnia’s demon god. The way Aravis spoke of him, though, it didn’t sound as if she thought of the god as some terrible creature. She spoke of it with almost a fondness and reverence. These barbarian ways were so strange. How long had it taken her to become accustomed to them? Would he have to do the same? Would he ever be able to return home? Or would he have to try building a life in a strange land with people he didn’t understand? 

"What's Calormen like?" The slightly nasal voice of the young knight that pierced his consciousness was as kindly taken and welcome as a spike to the head would be. "I've never been there before. Heard it is dreadfully hot, though." 

Arrosh thought of ignoring him, the man was in the hammock below and wouldn't know whether he was asleep or awake. But the stupidity of the last statement was enough to nudge him into speaking, "I fear you have been told wrong, sir. Calormen is quite cold. Our winters are the worst and summers are short." 

"Truly?" The man's raised an octave, "I heard it from a crew member aboard this ship." 

Arrosh smiled some, though the man couldn’t see it, "He was correct, sir." He watched as a small rat clambered across a beam and shuddered, "I was merely joking." 

"Lying is more like it, boy." Orran piped up, his deep voice in synchrony with the thunder that was starting outside. "Like all your other tales." 

Arrosh said nothing to that and, by the shifting below, the knight was not comfortable confronting his superior. That, or he agreed and had not the guts to say so. 

"Oh, leave the boy alone, Sir Orran. You are the only one on this ship that doesn't believe him and I wouldn’t suggest you let Queen Aravis hear you speak as such." Corin spoke from the doorway, his voice seemed off handed enough but there was a hard edge laced into the words. His point was clear. They were here on royal orders and they were not to be questioned. 

Sir Orran and the young knight shot out of their hammocks with a speed that did them credit. Arrosh had only just sat up when Corin had already nodded for them to stand down. 

"Yes, Prince Corin!" 

Corin nodded, "Good." He walked down the lane to his own bunk, patting Arrosh's good leg on the way by. "Don't worry, old chap, we'll get your sister in no time." He stretched himself out on the hammock and soon began to sleep. 

"What sort of animals are in Calormen, sir?"  

Arrosh held back a sigh and laid back down. This was going to be a long journey. 

-------

Aravis perched on her bed, hand to her stomach and attempted to quell the urge to vomit into the bucket before her. She had been fine in fair weather but once the waves had become agitated, her stomach had other things to say. With how this felt, she would have almost preferred traveling across the desert once again. They were two days at sea. They were so close but it felt farther away than ever. 

The room tilted and turned; her stomach heaved in protest along with the pitching of the sea. Aravis gave in, closing her eyes and curling in a ball on her bed. To be brought so low by a simple illness felt like a failure of the worst kind, though she knew it not to be so. 

"Shall you be alright, your highness?" The small, squeaky voice of the mouse named Zeepijeet came from the doorway. She was small for a Narnian mouse with smooth, nut-brown fur and bright grey eyes. Aravis remembered when her family had come to immigrate to Archenland, the mouse had been quite young, before King Loon had died. Now here she was, nigh in her early 20s, prepared to be a messenger to the king if things went wrong. 

Her heart twinged at the thought. If Arrosh was not true and all of this was a trap. Or one of the many other possibilities drawn out to her by Cor, who still did not fully trust the boy. While she disagreed with him, his doubt was infectious and she could not bring herself to shake the feeling that had begun to nibble at the corner of her heart. Thus, Arrosh did not know of Zeep.  

"Yes, I’ll be quite alright." Aravis replied finally, she had been thinking for too long. "I just need rest." 

"As you wish, your highness." Zeep bowed, "I am at your command whenever you desire." She walked to a corner in the room that held a bed her size and a basket with several of her things. From it, she plucked up a small crochet hook and yarn, continuing a hat she had been making. 

"Thank you, Zeep." Aravis muttered before curling in on herself and tried to distract herself from thoughts of being ill. 

Narnia, without a single regent to head them, the entire royal family missing. What had happened to them? Captured? Lost? It was difficult to believe that Edmund and Peter – or even Lucy could get lost in the woods of Narnia. It wasn’t impossible though. If they had been captured then a ransom would have been sent, surely.  

Lucy’s story of the wardrobe niggled in the back of her mind. If she had found one to get in to Narnia, could she have found another to get out? No. Impossible. The sibling regents would never leave their country to such a fate. Not intentionally. They would have to be forced. Their love for their people wouldn’t allow them to simply abandon them. 

What would happen if they weren’t found? Chaos. With there being four of them, they hadn’t thought to say who the throne was to go to if anything were to happen to all of them. There was nearly always at least one regent at Cair Paravel in times of war. But there weren’t any wars happening. What had happened? Bree’s oldest foal had been the one to take the message along with a dwarf named Brodlefink. All they knew was that the royals had gone on a hunt and hadn’t returned.  

Aravis curled in more and decided that simply focusing on not being sick might be the better course of action. 

----

The storm came upon them and day morphed into night. The ship rolled and tilted as the heavens rained their wrath from above. Prayers slipped from the mouths of the men both above and below deck. This had turned out to be far worse than expected.  

There was nothing to do but wait. Attempts to sleep were lost for Arrosh, his thoughts felt as though he had shaken them up in a jar and was unable to think properly. The young knight had become ill once the storm hit and the quarters stank of his sick. 

Unable to stand it any longer, Arrosh kicked his feet out of the hammock and dropped to the floor, wincing as his injured leg gave a throb in protest. It had healed mostly, but was prone to giving mild complaints when in use.  

This was the worst time to explore and possibly the best. He hadn't heard much from Orran in some time. With the large man itching for a reason to hurt him, Arrosh hadn’t thought it prudent to give him an excuse. Mayhaps he was ill as well. With a cast of his gaze around, he saw that Prince Corin had left the quarters and Orran was laying in his hammock. 

"Where are you going, boy?" He was within two steps of the door when the rumble came from directly behind him. 

"Just going for a short walk, sir." Arrosh did not turn around. The ship jolted and he stumbled a few paces to the side, holding himself against the frame. He may have had his sea legs but he sure didn't have storm legs. He gave a grin to the man over his shoulder, beginning to be fed up with being trapped in a floating box, "Figured it seemed to be the perfect time." Not for one moment had he liked his time on the previous ship and this one was much the same.  

"So you can poison our provisions?" Orran’s laugh rumbled along with the thunder sounding up above, "I think not." The ship shuddered again and both steadied themselves. 

Arrosh turned finally, bracing himself against the door frame, "Sir, I do not care what you think of me or who you think I am or not." He glared with all the contempt in his being, "But your accusations are unfounded and unnecessary. I have shown no signs of malice towards any of you. I just want my sister back." He looked away, taking his weight off of the door frame, "I -" The ship tumbled once again and Arrosh found himself falling towards a less than tidy pile of spare hammocks and ropes that had inhabited a corner of the room. Landing on top of them with a hard thud, a cry came from beneath. 

"What was that?" Orran asked, his suspicions of Arrosh momentarily forgotten. He took a step forward, pushing Arrosh aside and lifted the hammocks away from the floor. Beneath them, curled in a tight ball, was a girl. 

"By Tash." Arrosh cursed, "Why is she here?" 

The girl, pale and thin, sat up slowly, keeping her hands up, her features mostly hidden in the swinging lamp light of the ship, "Please, I, I don't mean any harm." 

"What are you doing here, girl?" Orran asked, his arms folded and stance wide against the throws of the ship. Unfortunately, it seemed that he was gaining his storm legs. Or at least below deck storm legs. 

The girl kept her gaze on the floor, shoulders hunched as though expecting a blow, “My brother, sir. He is all I have left, besides Aslan.” Her voice, it sounded familiar. 

“What is his name, child?” His words weren’t unkind, yet they gave little room for kindness. 

“Morri, sir.” 

“Morri, eh?” Corin’s voice sounded from the doorway, he stood with an arm against the door frame and his eyebrow quirked, “You mean the lad who stunk up the place with his sick?” 

----

"Your majesty! Your majesty!" The high, urgent cries from Zeep came from above as Aravis willed her eyes to open. So much for sleep. 

"Yes, Zeepijeet?" She answered, careful to keep the agitation from her voice. It wouldn't do any good to let the mouse know she wasn't pleased with the situation. What was done was done. She sat up and looked for the mouse. 

Zeep was perched upon one of the beams above, "I was patrolling the ship whilst you slept, your highness, and on my way back to check on you I made an alarming discovery." 

Though there was nothing left for it to give, her stomach still clenched and roiled within her. "Just tell me, please." She sighed, if it was alarming then it would be best for her to go out there and deal with it if need be. Standing, she looked for her mirror to make sure she did not seem too rumpled before her subjects. There was no way to be properly dignified before them, as she more than likely would stumble around a bit as the ship weathered the storm. 

"The prince, Arrosh, and Sir Orran have discovered a young lady as a stowaway on the ship!" Zeep bounced some, "With the Captain dealing with the storm they are trying to decide what to do with her." 

Aravis looked up from where she had found the mirror, "Truly?" She did one last fix of her hair, "Who in their right minds would want to stow away to Calormen?" 

"I know not, your highness." The young mouse conceded, "I did not stop for long to listen. I was more concerned with alerting you." She bowed her head, "I apologize, your majesty." 

"Quite alright, Zeepijeet." Aravis smiled up at her, "Please, show me to her and then continue to stay out of sight for now." She would brave the outside of her room and overcome this illness. Who knew what Sir Orran would think to do with the girl? Probably lock her up until the captain could deal with her. Corin would more than likely be of the same mind. 

---

“Did I hear my name?” The slight groan came before the young knight swung his legs out of the hammock with near infinite care. Even as he rose, he retched some and stumbled towards the cluster of people at the door. As a whole, the cluster of people took a step back. When he didn’t immediately reveal the contents of his stomach, the steps back didn’t continue. 

“Yes, Sir Morri, we did, in fact.” Prince Corin didn’t have a smile on his face for once, walking towards the young man gesturing to the girl, “There is a young lady here claiming to be your sister.” 

The man looked over towards the girl, squinting against the lighting and his eyebrows rose despite his hunched posture, “Fesh?” 

---

Aravis walked into a whirlwind of words and noise, Sir Morri, the young man who Cor had recently knighted, was talking back and forth with a girl who couldn’t have been more than a teenager, then apologizing to Corin, before going back to the girl. 

“Why are you here, Fesh? You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I couldn’t stay back there! You know how he is. He knew you were leaving.” 

“You should have said something!” The man looked like he was aging years as the seconds went by, he glanced at Corin, “I am so very sorry, your highness. I -” 

“What is this I hear about a stowaway on the ship?” Aravis held herself tall, braced against the movement of the ship with her hands primly over her middle, and effectively silenced the room.  

She looked over at the girl, keeping her cold exterior, “What is your name and why are you here?” 

“Your majesty!” The men took a knee and the girl gave as deep a curtsy as the movement of the ship would allow.  

Aravis waved them in dismissal, “Answers, please.” 

“My name is Fesh, your majesty.” The girl looked up at her, only a slight quiver in her lips, “I came because my brother is the only family I have left and where we live is not safe if he is not there to keep the land owner’s son afraid of retribution.” 

Chapter Text

Blood splattering the wall. Dripping down towards the floor.   

Don’t blame me, boy. Blame her. This is her fault.  

Running after a young girl with long black hair, stretching out his hand for her. It’s covered in blood.  

Iliz!  

Arrosh awoke with a gasp, water clogging his airways as he attempted in vain to breathe. The coughing intake that came from him didn't do as much as needed. His body lurched and he vomited the liquid out. The air that came felt rasping and thin, but it was precious.  He took it in greedily despite the residual coughs that racked him.

He clenched his fists and rested his head against the sand. The sand? Arrosh picked his head up, confirming his fear. No. He was on sand. He should be on the ship. It wasn’t possible. What did that mean? Last he knew, they had found that maid, Fesh, hiding in the ship due to her brother. What had happened? This was bad. Very bad.  

The young man sat back on his haunches and tried to look about. He was on a beach and most definitely in Calormen. The trees on the edge of the beach were not of Archenland, but natives to his homeland. Scattered all over the beach were scraps of splintered wood and people lying about or attempting to get up. What had happened? Arrosh shook his head, trying to clear it. Pain danced behind his eyes and a warm liquid to fall into them. He brushed his eyes as best he could, being covered in sand, and his fingers came back tipped in blood. He felt horribly weak. Nearly drowning probably made that happen to a person.  

They must have crashed the ship. Arrosh could feel his heart sink at the thought before it picked up again as another occurred to him. Who survived? Who hadn't? He stood, wavering and scanning the people on the beach. Where was Queen Aravis? Corin? If they died, the king would surely kill him as well. There would be no hope in saving his sister at the very least.  

There! The only other mop of black hair on that ship moved from across the small beach as the owner choked out the sea water. In a sluggish run, the young man picked his way around the splintered wood and bodies over to her. Oh, thank Tash, at least she was alive.  

"Are you quite alright, sister?" The title felt odd on his tongue, almost wrong as his mind still refused accept that he had another one, but the relief of seeing her alive eased the feeling the word left. It helped he knew how desperately she desired him to give it to her. Her eyes said it all. He would use that. He had to.  

"Yes," Aravis managed to say, sitting up and breathing hard, "Yes, I'll be fine." She pointed out across the beach, "Please, go find out if there are any other survivors."  

Arrosh nodded and went off to search through the bodies. "Stay here." He looked around at the surrounding area, there was no immediate evidence of civilization. “You should be safe enough here but give a shout if you see anyone coming.”  

Scanning the beach, he saw there were 8 people in total with only one, Miss Fesh by the looks of it, actually moving across the beach. There should have been more, due to the fact that there had been at least a dozen crew members on the ship.   

Trotting up to the first, he saw it was a dead crew member. Impaled by a spear-like shaft of wood in the neck. Arrosh felt his stomach churn and turned away. He was accustomed to seeing bodies. Bodies starved to death, bodies hanged, bodies of the old, bodies of the ones far too young, bodies of the murdered even. But not bodies like that. It must have been a dreadful death.   

The next three were dead crew men as well, bloated with water and eyes open in the stare of death. These were easier, he felt nothing for them. They were dead, that was all.   

He moved on, aiming for what he saw was a person's barefoot peeking out from behind a large piece of wreckage. It shifted, the heel digging into the sand and now he could hear the sounds of gagging. Picking his pace up to a trot, Arrosh rounded the wreckage to see Prince Corin now bent over and gasping for air. He was alive. Good. They needed someone like him. Not to mention, the king would probably also kill him if his twin brother didn’t make it back either.  

"Are you quite alright, master?" Arrosh came forward, trying to see if anything was wounded on the man. His clothes were ripped in a few places, but from what could be seen there was no readily obvious signs of a wound.  

"Well, I'll admit to having had better days." Corin replied heavily and turned over to stretch out for air, "But I could be worse. I'm not wounded. Keep looking for survivors, please."  

Arrosh nodded and started to move on, "Her majesty, is over yonder, on the far side of the beach." He gestured to where she was before continuing on. Picking up speed, his gait came to a jog as he saw Fesh frantically waving him over. What was the matter?  

----

Aravis breathed heavily as she propped herself up on the beach, remembering what had happened and regaining what strength the water had stolen from her. She could see her brother searching through the bodies, her heart squeezing in agony every time he moved on without hesitation. Those that were beyond help.  

She had been below decks and in her quarters, briefing Fesh on her duties as a temporary lady's maid, when it had happened. The call to abandon ship and Corin bursting through the door to drag them out if need be. All that happened after was a blur once they were on deck. Water had come from all directions. Above as the rain lashed out its fury and below with the sea crashing over the sides. Her eyesight had been reduced to nothing as she screwed her eyes shut against the wind. She found herself crammed into a small boat, unable to comprehend what was going on. They should have gone through the desert. They-  

"Your majesty?" The soft, quiet squeak of Zeepijeet came from behind a rather large piece of wreckage   

Aravis looked up from her musing and smiled, "Oh, Zeep, I'm so glad you are alive!" She stopped to compose herself before continuing, "Are you hurt?"  

"No, your majesty." The mouse gave a wry smile, "Just a touch wet."   

---

Arrosh jogged across the soft sand with ease now that his head had cleared, accustomed to its ways, over to Fesh. Once she had seen he was coming she had rushed away and crouched over something - or someone rather. It was the young knight. Her brother.  

Coming up to them, Arrosh tried to see what was wrong with the man. Fesh obscured most of the view but he could see his face was twisted in pain. Probably not as gently as he could have, Arrosh pushed the maid away, saying, "Where is he hurt?"  

Her face was blank as she sat back in the hot sand, energy spent after beckoning to him, "He saved my life. He, he saved my life. Please. Help. My brother." There would not be any help from the shocked girl. How she had managed to do what she had was a surprise, her cheek was cut and there was a tear on the arm of her dress that had blood on it.  

The boy turned his attention to the knight, none of her injuries seemed as severe as whatever his may be, "Don't worry, man. We'll have you right as the Tisroc, may he live forever, in his palace. After all, the saying goes, 'Those who worry…" He paused his speech as he found the wound - or one of them at the least. "Those who worry forever have the sun darkened in their eyes or some nonsense like that. After his wife died, my father was not all that fond of wise sayings." He was babbling now, maybe it would distract the man. After all, the man's leg had a piece of the ship, nearly three fingers thick, sticking out of his lower thigh. It didn't seem to go all the way through, but that didn't mean that it hadn't done any damage.

The young man groaned; teeth set against the pain. Arrosh watched, he had seen something similar happen in one of the work sights he had worked in. The other man had lost his leg, eventually. Doomed to the life of a beggar. The thick splinter of wood was going to have to come out. It was after that that was the problem. The knight could bleed to death. It'd need to be wrapped. With what?   

"By Tash, you are out with the Lady of Luck." The boy muttered, his hand going through his hair as he looked about. That was it! He got up, went to one of the bodies and stripped it of a shirt. Coming back, he squatted down, "As the wise proverb goes, 'A man in good health has nothing to complain of but a man with spike in his leg has every right to shriek.' This is going to hurt." He gripped the oversized splinter and put his other hand on the bloodied leg. Hopefully this was the right thing to do.  

------

"Aravis!" Cor made his way towards her, stumbling due to the soft sand and the weak member of the ship’s crew he was helping, "Are you quite alright?" It had taken a bit of time to make it to her as he had been scanning the beach for survivors. It seemed that it had only been the four of them and the maid, Fesh. Wait, five survivors. That was Zeepijeet if he wasn't mistaken. Standing whole and alert by her queen. With a bow of the head, she acknowledged him.  

Aravis nodded, the knot between her brows relaxing as he got to them, "Yes, I'm not hurt." Gesturing to where Arrosh had just darted back behind a large piece of the ship, obscuring him from view. "What is he doing?"  

Cor helped the older, grizzled man down onto the sand, and sat on his haunches, looking back, "He's combing the beach for others last I knew. Speaking of which," He stood, stretching out aches he didn't know it was possible to have, "Now that I know you're unhurt and with a capable warrior, I will join him." A quick scan of the area showed they were in a cove of some sort, no view of any inhabitants around, and -  

"What in the blazes was that?" Cor spun around as a sound that couldn't be human split the air.  

"It came from where the young man went, your majesties." Zeepijeet hopped from foot to foot, her sensitive mouse ears picking up more than the humans' could.   

----

The sound of feet pounding across the sand and of Corin’s voice came towards them, “What’s going on?” He rounded the large section of wreckage, fists at the ready, “Is there danger?”   

“No outside danger, sire.” Arrosh answered before nodding to the man next to him, “Merely an injury that needed to be tended to.”  

“You saved his life?” Aravis came at a slower pace, having given the wreckage a wide berth for better viewing purposes before plunging headlong into the unknown.  

"Etnos has not claimed the end of his days as of yet but we will have to wait and see what will be." Arrosh stood and looked down at his hands, once more in his short life he found himself covered in another man’s blood. Oh, how different the circumstances were. Memories of blood from the last man swam before his eyes and his stomach curled in on itself. What a fool he had been! A fool destined for death. Not before he could save his baby sister if he could help it. “If someone will stay with him and the gir- Miss Fesh. I will finish searching for survivors.”  

Corin had come to crouch over Morri, inspecting the wound, “I learned a bit of this sort of thing in my training. In case there was an instance in a fight or battle where assistance was needed immediately and no help could be got. I will see what more I can do.” His face crinkled into a frown as he looked the man over, “It looks like his arm is broken as well.”  

Aravis went to Fesh, taking a seat beside her and began to speak to her in soothing tones. The curly, blonde girl had begun to stare vacantly ahead again. Maybe she had hit her head and was addled by it. Arrosh couldn’t tell. Never had he seen a person like that. Mayhaps the queen could help her. He definitely couldn’t. Calormen wasn’t a place or people who were kind to those who were soft in the head. More often than not, they were thought of as cursed. Hopefully, for the girl’s sake, it wasn’t a permanent problem.  

There wasn’t much of the beach left to search before the sand met with the water and a grassy embankment that seemed to lead up to the rest of the mainland. Sparse trees ran along the ridge above. One could only hope that there were no nearby villagers. People did not often take well to foreigners who were not obviously wealthy and unable to immediately benefit them through some form of trade or gold.   

Up and down the beach he went. There were more than he had thought on first glance. There seemed to be most of the crew on the shores - all dead. They must have crashed close by if that was the case. Even the captain, a kindly, grizzled man with a long brown beard was found, or half of him at least. Where his lower half had gone was beyond what Arrosh could guess. A shudder went through him at the thought.

“Help, please.” The soft, hoarse whisper came from what Arrosh would have sworn was a pile of rubbish. “Help.”

Coming closer to it, he saw through the cracks of the pile a man. It was Sir Orran.  

Chapter Text

“He’s stable for now.” Corin brushed his hands off and stood, “But he will need it properly cared for when we get to the nearest village. Surely, they will have at the very least some form of healer there.” He had needed to fix the bandaging some, and now needed to set about getting the man more comfortable. The thought of using a dead man’s dirty clothing was irking but there was nothing as of yet that could be done for it. If they had water to boil... no there was none and even if there was, they had no pot to boil it in. They had done what they could and, Aslan willing, it wouldn’t cause any form of infection. 

Once again, he took a scan of the area. “We’ll have to get a stretcher - or make one rather. Send out a scout or two ahead to get the lay of the land.” This wasn’t the first time he had been in a bit of a bramble. He just usually had a few more people accustomed to such things with him - or had been alone. It would be different this time with only one tested warrior, a wounded knight, and civilians. Aslan provide, mayhaps there would be more survivors. 

If there hadn’t been wood, supplies, - and bodies - scattered everywhere it would have been a pretty area. A spot you would take a family for an afternoon picnic or the like. Did they do that in Calormen? What sort of people were they now? He had not been here since he was a boy. The first time, and last for that matter, had been blasted terrible. Were the people all that harsh? Had they grown softer over the years? That Rabidash fellow was tisroc now, so probably not. 

“He saved my life.” Fesh brought Corin from his thoughts, she was staring at her brother, her voice soft, "When I was separated from the queen and nearly fell into the ocean, he kept me from falling. Before the waves broke us apart, when we both were tossed in, he gave me something to keep afloat." Her face crumpled and went into her hands, "And this is how he pays for it." 

"Worry not," Aravis rubbed her back, that motherly tone she had for Ram slipping out, "All shall be well in due time." 

Corin agreed. It was a blasted, blasted tragedy for all these lives lost. Good men they were. At least from what he had heard of them. Cor himself swore his life on the captain due to a diplomatic mission that left him indebted to him with his life. Only the best crew for his wife was to be had. Now look at what had happened to so many of them. He couldn’t think about that now, though. There were still the others to keep alive. 

However, they still had two natives of the land with them. One of whom had lived there his whole life. A plan would be made once the situation and people were assessed. They would be right as rain. Surely. 

----  

Aravis surveyed the land as she comforted the maid. Home. Or what had once been so long ago. Not once would she have thought she would ever come back to these shores. Traitor as she was.  

Now here she was, shipwrecked. Over a decade later, her tale must have been long forgotten among the tarkaans and the like. They had planned on never setting foot near Tashbaan or even announcing who they were, just in case. For all those in Zalindreh would know, they would be wealthy barbarian traders. Aravis herself would be disguised as a slave so the want of another would not seem as suspicious, as Archenlanders were forbidden from such atrocities. However, Aravis was not naive enough to think none did it. Every barrel has its bad apples.  

Or, that had been the plan. Now, they had not even the money to buy a fish in the market. Much less a girl. Whatever were they to do? They would have to comb through the wreckage for anything useful. 

----- 

"Help." His voice came again, slow and rasping. From the looks of it, he was pinned beneath the pile. Unable to move. But were there injuries? Deathly ones? 

"Are you hurt?" Arrosh crouched down, out of sight from the others. Prince Corin would be along this way soon. Unless the knight was in need of assistance. One could hope. 

"You!" There was a gurgle in the large man's throat, but if he was well enough to tell who spoke then mayhaps there was no serious injury. Or he truly did not like Arrosh so much as to be able to tell despite the injuries. 

"Yes, me, sir." Arrosh answered his voice gone cold, "Now listen here, if I'm going to help you, I need to know if you're hurt." Of all the creatures to live through this it just had to be Sir Orran. Knight was not the only one out with the Lady of Luck. If the brute discovered what he had done… Arrosh refused to think of it. It couldn't happen. It would not. Not if he could help it. 

"I'm trapped beneath this heap." Sir Orran spoke between shallow gasps, "I… I can't seem to feel my legs. I can't," There was a pause, "Feel a bit woozy I do." His barbarian skin was as pale as the sand with a high noon sun glaring against it.  

Arrosh squatted down further, yes, the man was dying. He could leave him. Let him suffer and die. Problem solved. But what if he were found by Corin and saved? The large man could say that he had been abandoned. Problem not solved. 

"Look here," Arrosh said again, coming closer to the pile to be heard. No one was coming, Corin seemed to be dealing with Sir Morri and the queen was still absorbed by Fesh. Good.  

"I can help you and, believe it or not, I want to help you." He came back down to look the man in one bloodshot eye, "But I need something from you." This wasn’t going to be pleasant. 

"What might that be?" Each breath seemed more laborious than the last, with every word  was a rattling breath. 

"An oath of loyalty to me – or at least an oath to stop hating me." Arrosh answered, trying to phrase his words properly, "You are a man of honor and principles, I can tell. Swear by your precious god Aslan, and everything you hold dear, your loyalty to me and I will save you. Or, your amiability, if that is something someone can swear over." There had to be a decision soon. The knight would only hold Corin up for so long. If the man said no... Measures would have to be taken. Measures that seemed accidental. By Tash let it not come to that. 

"I would rather die!" 

It was starting to look like he was going to anyways. But that wasn’t something someone told another in moments like these. 

"In return for your oath, I not only will save your life but, right now, I swear I will never intentionally cause harm to my sister, Aravis, or anyone of her party. Not that I would ever anyways." Arrosh glanced to where said party was. Corin seemed to be setting the knight up against something and Aravis was still beside Fesh. "I just need your word of loyalty or friendship, Sir Orran. Going into this sort of territory with a divided group will break us and nobody will be safe. Calormen is not kind to outsiders in the best of circumstances." Please, let this be enough. 

There was a pause, Orran's breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. The pounding in Arrosh's head seeming to keep the beat of the fleeting time passing.  

Mayhaps the man would die before anything could be done.  

----- 

"Your majesty," Zeep came from behind the cover of a piece of wreckage just big enough to hide her, "Do you wish for me to continue being here in secret? Or shall I be revealed?" The queen had stayed with the maid but had ceased talking with her. Both in their own world of thoughts. 

Aravis turned to look at the mouse, a weak smile that only just reached her eyes came, "Zeepijeet, there is no use in hiding now." She sighed before she brought herself back to being the strong, confident queen Zeep had always known, "This is just a setback, an unexpected path we were given to travel. Aslan preserve us, I know we shall get through this scrape."  

"There we go!" The satisfied exultation from Corin came as he finished with the young knight. What was his name? Zeep had yet to hear it given. 

He was a tall, well-built lad who couldn't be over 20 if he was a day. His dirty blonde hair was long, coming to his shoulders, and his face still held the innocence to that of a child. Untested in battle and not yet accustomed to the harsh reality of the world. Even with his face contorted from the pain in his leg Zeepijeet could see that. She herself was mostly untested in battle, though not completely. But from the realities of a harsh world? Not so. 

Corin stood brushing his hands off from the sand, "Well, Morri, I'm sure you'll be right as rain in no time. You won't bleed to death at the least." He stood over the man, Morri it seemed his name was, "There will be no walking - at the very least on that leg, for you. No need to worry, however, something shall be done." 

Aravis rose from her place and walked to Corin, saying something even the mouse could not pick up. The prince shook his head gesturing out across the sand, "I-" 

The queen fixed him with a look fierce enough to shut the mouth of a talking squirrel. Turning to the mouse, she said, "Zeepijeet, please join my brother in the search for survivors."  

Zeepijeet curtsied despite having no skirt, "Yes, your majesty!" With that she set out across the beach in the direction of where she had last seen the young man.  

She really hoped he wasn’t afraid of mice or rats. Not all took kindly to her kind as the Narnians and Archenlanders did. Not even all the Archenlanders were keen about talking mice. 

---- 

"We are in desperate need of a plan, Corin." Aravis began as the two walked a short distance from the knight and the maid. The older sailor was slowly making his way from the spot they had previously left him but was far enough away for now. "And it would be best to know the thoughts of the other before the others are informed as to what is to be done." 

"You are our queen," Corin shrugged, his eyes ever scanning the perimeter, "Whatever you decide shall be done." He had never been much of a leader among the court, but he had made for a decent soldier and commander when the mood suited him. 

"Yes, I am the queen, and all know that a wise ruler takes the advice of others before coming to a decision." 

"As far as I'm concerned, we simply have a party of our strongest move ahead, steal the girl away, and make sail on an Archenlander or even Narnian trading ship. Though, depending on how things are going with the search and how long it takes us..." He trailed off, not willing to speak of the disappearances of their dear friends or what their loss may cause. Aslan willing, they had been found. 

Aravis thought on it, "That is a brash plan and would be good if all else fails." The plan was not a good one but it was far from the worst she had heard from the lips of her brother in-law. If it was up to him, he would settle most disputes and problems with a boxing match.  

"Well, the first thing we need to know is where the blazes we are and who we have with us."  Corin stretched his hand out towards the mainland. "Obviously enough we are in Calormen. But what part? Are we close to Zaldrah? Or Tashbaan?" 

"Zalindreh." Was the absent correction, "If we know where we are, we should be able to find how close we are to Tashbaan. Or Zalindreh for that matter." She glanced up at the young man before her, "We still have an ambassador, Trunin, in Tashbaan. Mayhaps he can fit us out with what we would need to help the girl."  

Not long after Rabadash’s attack on Anvard, the Tisroc had expressed that the ‘young and brash prince’ had acted outside of his blessings. Of course, King Lune, having heard Aravis’ tale, knew this to be false. However, he was unwilling to simply let the larger country be. Over the course of a few weeks and many letters, it was decided that they would be willing to engage in trade with Calormen and, in return, an ambassador would be put in place in Tashbaan. The last ten years, the man had mostly dealt with the trading that occured within the country and to update the palace as to what was the current state of Calormen. Not fully a spy but requested to be watchful.  

"If we are near that disgusting city." Corin agreed, wrinkling his nose. “We can at the least get enough coin to buy the girl and a charter back to Archenland.”  

There was hope to be had yet. Not all could be lost. Aslan would guide them. 

Chapter Text

Orran looked up at Arrosh through dazed, bloodshot eyes, “You give your word that you will not bring any harm to Queen Aravis or her party?” The words were spoken quietly and in between gasps of breath.   

“Yes.” Arrosh nodded, looking around to see a large rat coming from where the party stood. By Tash, he hoped it was one of those unusual, demon creatures that the northern countries were said to have. Or mayhaps the ship merely had rodents of unusual size stowed away somewhere? Calormen surely didn’t harbor such abominations. Either way, something needed to happen and fast. He wasn’t keen on being attacked by a rat while trying to make peace with a possibly dying man. 

“We need to agree to not be against each other, sir.” Maybe if he twisted it that way it wouldn’t seem as bad if the man lived. Did he have it in him to kill a man already dying?  

No. He would not think of the past. All he had was the future and he wouldn't even have that if he didn't have his little sister.  

"Please, we cannot go on as enemies, Sir." The rat was getting closer. Without thinking about it, he grabbed a long piece of wood, just in case.  

The man gave another gasp, "By Aslan and the North, I -" A gurgle came from deep within his chest, "I put aside past grievances." His eye closed, barely breathing.  

That was enough for Arrosh. He began to pull away at the rubbish, calling out, "Help! I've found another one! Quick!"  

The rat came on, calling out before getting too close, "What is wrong, sir?"  

Narnian then and potentially female. Then again, it could be male. What did he know of the demon species of Narnia? It was only stories that he ever heard about them and those were horrible. Thankfully, this particular Narnian didn’t seem as though it was going to eat his soul just yet or steal his nonexistent children into the night for its sacrifices.  

"I think it's Sir Orran." He yanked the largest piece off, revealing the man beneath as well as a view of his injuries. There was no longer a concern over him living. As soon as the rod that had gone through his midsection was removed, he would die.  

Both were quiet for a moment as they took in the situation. It was a terrible sight. "By Tash, there's no help for him." Arrosh said quietly and shook his head, even now the man had slipped into unconsciousness. "I don't know of your practices of assisting the dying into the next life.” He ran his still bloody hands through his hair, “But it may be best to give them soon."  

"I do." Corin had come running to see what the commotion was. His usual happy face was grim, tears welling up in his eyes. He must have known this man well.  

"He is suffering, your majesty." Arrosh nodded gently at the dying man, "Please, for his sake, allow me to remove the rod to ease his passing." It was the least he could do for a man he had considered killing himself. Now here he was truly doing it - merely for a different reason. The man had only been protecting those he cared for. Wouldn’t Arrosh have done the same?  

The man's face contorted at the suggestion but he gave a curt nod, turning away, "Make it quick."  

Arrosh took a breath before stepping forward. Debris fell away as he worked to expose the entirety of the enormous man, who didn’t seem nearly as large, surrounded by the debris and with the pallor of his skin. With the last piece removed, the young man placed one hand on the man's bloody chest and another on the rod. Concentrating on the man's face, he pulled out the rod. Sir Orran groaned as it came away, unfortunately not loud enough to conceal the sound of the rod itself making an exit.  

Aravis and what appeared to be a sailor joined the group gathering around. Her face was grim and gaunt, as though she thought of these deaths as her responsibility.  

Arrosh looked down at his hands as he stepped back for Corin to do their rituals, Aravis holding the man’s hand as he passed. Blood dripped slowly from his palm to the sand beneath him, the other holding the dreadful stake before he tossed it away. Memories reminding him again there was no escape. Every life he helped would be followed by death of another. By Tash, he would prove them wrong. He would escape this cycle.  

He stepped back and away as the northerners encircled the man, all except the wounded one, and preformed their ritual. The blood dripping. Dripping. And dripping. How many more would die before he got to his sister? Azaroth keep them, he prayed it would be none. But what did the gods care if they had no sacrifices given? His prayers would go unheard and unanswered.   

Eventually, all of the bodies that could be found were gathered together and buried in shallow graves, rocks piled atop them. Soft crying from Fesh was the only sound to be heard as they stood around the graves. The queen stood, silent and every bit of what a monarch should be. Mayhaps, his father was wrong about her. She was no weak girl who ran away from her responsibilities and family obligations to side with scum barbarians. She was a queen and not to be trifled with. If she ever discovered what had happened, there would be strong judgement.  

Wandering back to the wounded knight one by one, they gathered around. The last one to come was Aravis, standing there, head bowed respectfully before she finally turned and approached the group, a small gleam of tears in her eyes. “Prince Corin, you know far more of expeditions and campaigns than I do. You will be the head of this company, leading us to Tashban to meet with our ambassador and be outfitted with what is necessary.” Tashbaan? No! That would take them at least a week away from Zalindreh. Days were too many. She could be dead already. Dead or worse. Arrosh knew only too well how slaves were treated.  

Corin spread his hands, “Alas, sister, I know nothing of this land. I have not come to these lands since I was but a child.”  

At this, all eyes went to Arrosh. Without meaning to, he took a step back. “I am no leader.”  

“You will be our guide and council,” Aravis' voice brokered no room for argument, “Corin will stay as leader of the party.” Nods all around.  

XxX

“First thing we need to do is determine where exactly we are.” The prince stepped easily into his role as commander. He may not have wanted to be king but that didn’t mean that he didn’t know how to lead a small band of troops or the like. This would have to be close enough. “Arrosh and Zeep, scout out the area. Miss Fesh and Grethlas,” He gestured at the maid and the sailor, “We shall see if there is anything of worth in the wreckage. Sir Morri, you and Queen Aravis will be look outs.”  

The girl nodded. Thankfully, she seemed to be coming back to herself. It was all rather a shock if one hadn’t been on many adventures or mishaps so Corin didn’t blame her one bit. Aravis didn’t seem pleased to be put on lookout duty but wasn’t going to object his commands directly after she had put him in charge. Morri was mostly resigned to his fate. Poor chap.   

“Your highness,” The quiet, slight lilting voice of the young Calormen came, “If I might make a small point?” Aslan's mane the lad looked nearly as though he feared being struck. Whatever sort of life he lived, had not been kind to him. Well, no more.  

“Go on, Arrosh,” Corin nodded towards him not unkindly.   

XxX

It wasn’t as if he had a distaste for the rat. Well, he did. One couldn’t forget the terrible stories one is told as a child in the blink in the eye. But, whatever his opinion on the creature was, it wasn’t going to be easy smuggling it into any small village. A city and it could slip around relatively unnoticed. But the villages of Calormen never bred creatures that size. As soon as it was seen there would be a commotion. Better to hide it until they were at a bigger place.  

“No offense meant to the rat, sire.” He kept his head bowed in deference, as more than likely befitted the man’s rank as he wasn’t a tisroc or king to prostrate oneself before. “But it is of a rather larger nature than what the villages find here. If it -"  

“She,” The queen said quietly, “She is a mouse.” Oh. Well, then it was definitely large for a mouse.   

“Zeepijeet, sir.” It – she bowed, “At your service.”  

Arrosh managed a nod at the creature before turning back to the one in command, “As I said, she won’t blend in, sir. If we were in the city someone would be more likely to turn a blind eye or dismiss it as Etnos deceiving them.  In a village that is far less likely.” He paused, “Unless you are a proficient spy, er - Zeepijeet?” The name felt odd in his mouth, if he was to save his sister, then he more than likely would have to go and live with the barbarians. But, Tash the inexorable, this would be difficult. So far none of the stories seemed to be true. Yet how would one know until it was too late? What if when he got his sister back he found the stories to be true?  

To the creature’s credit, she seemed to consider the question, “I am proficient, sir. However, I have never been in this land before and know not of its ways.”  

“There are not many places to hide beyond that of huts and the fences for animals, the occasional market wares depending on the day.”   

“Carts? Horses?”   

“Donkeys and carts are not common unless it is a market day and the outlying fishermen and trades folk ride into the villages. Horses are only for the wealthy. Beyond that, many walk and carry it on their person unless otherwise needed.” Sometimes even if it were needed. One made due with what one had.  

The rat – mouse, nodded slowly, “It will be difficult , but the cover should be sufficient.”  

Arrosh bowed in ascent. It would be so.  

Corin clapped his hands together at that and said, “Now, let’s begin the work. We’re at noon now and, by Aslan, I want to be to a village before sunset if we can manage it.” With that they set to work.  

XxX

The tent flap fluttered and opened, Regglin the red dwarf, came in, “Your majesty, nothing found in this quadrant.”  

Cor felt his heart sink, his hot tea half way to his mouth, “Then we move on, and search the next.” He took a sip, the drink tasteless in his mouth, “Make sure no stone is left unturned. Even the smallest hint can help.” Regglin nodded and turned sharply.  

They had scoured the area the regents had last been seen near Lantern Waste. A heavy rain had fallen since the event and any possible tracks had been obscured. No trace of them was to be found. Now they were searching the country piece by piece. Lord Peridan was starting in the east by Cair Paravel and Cor expanding from the Lamppost in Lantern Waste. If all went well, they would meet in the middle just past the Great River, with the regents in tow.  

It wasn’t like Peter to leave his people like this. Nor Edmund. Any of them, truly. They loved their people too much for that. No ransom had been sent. No outlying witch had given some ultimatum. Which only left a worse option. But none had claimed the credit for that either. So what had happened to them?  

Cor allowed himself a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose, heaving a sigh that he’d been holding back. How long could he continue this? Surely the royals would be found in a matter of days. But what if it went to weeks? Months? Years? He couldn’t leave his own country for too long.   

Aslan willing, Aravis would return soon with Corin. He needed his wife to help him rule and his brother to help him search. Ram had nearly cried when he’d left. He didn’t know the details, but he could tell something was different. When both of his parents left, it was always together. Not like this.  

He couldn’t keep himself in this slump, it would do no good. It was time to bring everything back in.   

“Aslan, if you’re around, it’d sure be nice to get some help.” It was worth a try. When no lion’s roar sounded and the tent didn’t open to see the friend the king hadn’t seen in many years, Cor gave one last sigh. Time to get moving.  

Chapter Text

“Anything that is a precious metal, jewels, clothes, or potentially useful to living in the outdoors.”  

The prince was sorely going to regret making her the one to look through the wreckage with him. Especially if he was expecting her to find anything off of which they could survive. She didn’t know anything of these things. Fesh took a steadying breath, that wouldn’t stop her from doing what she could. She had done this to herself after all. Oh, how daft she’d been!  

Then again. If she had stayed behind then her brother would still be here like this but she wouldn’t be able to be with him. Or he could have been worse. Gone the way of Sir Orran and the crew. She would be fretting at home, the landlord’s son a constant fear and threat. Likely never to see her last surviving family again. 

Thinking of the son, Fesh set her jaw as she tried to pull at a piece of the ship, her arm twinging at the movement. If there was one thing she knew, she’d rather be shipwrecked in a foreign country than be near the likes of that vile boy. The wretched creature. 

XxX

“We will need to take our separate ways soon enough.” The boy – a young man really, said to Zeepijeet as they walked along down a road that seemed to lead towards a small village, that had settled in one of the small streams leading to the ocean, in the distance. He was dressed in what was the standard Calormen clothes that he had left Archenland with and had made a light headcover that covered most of his face from some of the cloth that had washed up with them, so as to make others think he was the slave of a rich man.  

“It is far from common to be walking with a ra- a mouse and far less to be having a conversation with one. As the wise sayings go, ‘a man who speaks to the beasts of the earth is destined to live as them'. Or some such - ” He paused at this, a thought seeming to take him, “Do you happen to speak the Calormen tongue?” He had kept his distance from her, always at pace or slightly behind. Never in front. 

Zeep shook her head, “I’m afraid not, sir.” Oh, how she wished her sword was at her side! But alas, this was a stealth mission and suspicion was far more likely to be cast her way with weapons or the like. As such, she’d taken off all accessories bearing only her light brown fur. Not that she had been able to keep a hold of them anyways. The only thing she had left was her small sword. 

“Shame.” He shrugged, “If you can go where few else can go you may have been able to hear what no others wanted to be heard.” 

“Is the common tongue not used?” Zeep couldn’t help but ask. 

“Among traders, the rich, and most common men speak common. Many use both. But there are plenty of others who only know the Calormen tongue. I learned it not long before we were cast to the streets as a child and Father insisted I continued to use it. Both have come into good use.” 

They walked in silence for a time, the boy casting glances at her. He put up a good front of being comfortable around her but Zeep had the feeling it wasn’t true. She thought back to when he’d first seen her as he’d been investigating the pile that had ended up having Sir Orran beneath it. His eyes had gone wide for just a moment but he’d returned to the pile before giving a small start, raising the alarm. He may have been able to put aside his fears, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have them. 

After a short time in that fashion, she sighed, “Do you have any questions, sir?” Her tone made it clear what she meant. It was better to get it out of the way before they truly started working together. 

Arrosh slowed, his lips pinched together for a moment as he looked forward. For a moment, Zeep wondered if he would deny having any questions. Finally, he said, “Is it true that the northern people have to make sacrifices of their children to appease the animals?” The solemnity in his tone gave no suggestion of a joke, even the glance he cast at her was questioning and anxious. 

“What?” Zeep spluttered at the absurdity of the question, “No! Where did you hear such a notion?” Of all the things she had thought he would ask, that wasn’t it at all. 

The boy was silent again, looking at her, inspecting her really. His shoulders relaxed some before he brought his gaze back to the road, a small smile on his face, “After what happened with Tisroc Rabidash, may he live forever, many tales have been told of the demons to the north.” The mouse couldn’t help but bristle at the word demons. They were animals. Not demons. Wasn’t that obvious? 

He turned his smile to her for a moment, “I’m glad to see that the tales aren’t true so far.” When she couldn’t find words to respond, he continued, “I mean, you haven’t stolen my soul in my sleep to put in another beast, or my eyes, as they can be said to carry the soul as well. You haven’t threatened to turn me into a beast either, my ears turning into that of an animal’s, my voice stolen. Or stolen my voice to sell to the mute ones.” He nodded seemingly more to himself than her, “I was always suspicious that the stories may have been exaggerated.” 

“Exaggerated? Arrosh, sir,” Zeep scoffed, “They’re lunacy! Not a single one of those things are possible or true.” By the Lion, she would have to make sure she was never caught by any others here if that’s what they thought about Narnians. 

“I’m glad,” He stopped, offering her his hand and stooping some, “Shall we be friends then?” 

Zeep took it, “Friends.” What horrors had this young man been told about Narnia? And better yet, how much of it did he still believe? By Aslan, she hoped that, when he came to Archenland, he would realize how untrue it all was. 

They began walking again, the silence more comfortable this time. It wasn’t long later that they came to the beginning of stone walls marking the farm land surrounding the nearing village and Zeepijeet slipped into the tall grass away from view. 

She watched as he continued on without her, his shoulders drawing in and head bowed ever so slightly. His limp was nearly gone now, yet he still held himself as… Zeep wasn’t fully sure how to describe it. She had never seen another walk with their shoulders drawn in, his head seeming always ready to duck further. Defensive? If that was how slaves acted here, then he knew how to play the part well.  

A small prick ran down her tail as a thought came to her. If he could play this well, what other parts could he play? No, she dismissed the thought. He had acted similar when speaking to Corin as they were discussing plans. Then even earlier, on the ship, he had a subservient way about him. It was simply how he had been raised. 

XxX

“And here we are!” Corin gestured triumphantly at the small piles that they had harvested from the shore. Considering everything, he was pleased with what they had managed to find. Aslan’s favor must be upon them. “We have some timber and canvas for a stretcher, maybe I could make a crutch even.” 

“I could do that, sir.” Grethlas, the sailor, raised his hand, “I’ve made a crutch or two in my time.” He was an older man, or so he looked as Corin hadn’t bothered to ask an age, with greying brown hair and beard. He was from Galma but had been on the seas for most of his life. His accent was hard to place, it was if he’d taken a bit of each land that he'd ever been to form his own way of speaking. 

Corin nodded his thanks, continuing over their inventory, “I dare say we have enough canvas and rope, from that mast that came ashore, to make a few small sacks as well.” He frowned for a moment, “A shame we only managed to find one knife but it will have to suffice. Then enough cloth washed up that it should be worth enough to get at least a couple night's stay in a place. I’ll have to ask Arrosh about that when he gets back.”  

No jewels had been found, not surprisingly. Only a few had been taken. They had been for his rich trader outfit. Though, a handful of coins had been found in one of the crates that had managed to be intact and full of cloth. Apparently, it had been for luck or some such. A good lot of luck it had done. It was something at least. 

Aravis looked over everything, stately as ever. He had used to hate that about her as a child. Thinking she was so stuffy and no fun. Cor was the one who’d been able to get her out of it from time to time for a good fight. But now he knew it was her protection from the world around her and, as the queen now, there was a certain bearing that was beneficial to have. It had come into good use on multiple occasions. 

“It’s too bad all of the food stores were ruined.” She noted, “But it’s good so much of the cloth washed up and shouldn’t be terribly damaged. That should do much.” 

XxX

How long had it been since he’d been in Calormen? Months? Weeks? The low hum of the people would have been nearly sweet if it weren’t for the fact that if they knew who he was he would more than likely be strung up or carted away to be stoned. Yet he hadn’t seen a single parchment or etching. Mayhaps, it had all been forgotten. 

It must have been a market day. There were the people on their mats, the chink of gold in bags, scents of perfume, flesh, and unwashed bodies all melding together. Slaves with their faces covered, others unveiled, and the common folk all mingling together. Women with their hair wraps and flowing dresses, the wealthier ones showing off what little jewels they had. It wasn’t as if this village was one made up of anything much.  

“Boy!” A loud, man’s voice called from behind. “Boy!” Angrier this time. Annoyed at being ignored. 

Arrosh turned to see a man standing a few yards from him, “Who is it that is your master? I have not seen you before.”   

“My master is down the way,” Arrosh gestured down the road, keeping his head bowed in deference. Even as a freeman with his father, with his low station in life it had become a habit to grovel, “He has told me to go ahead and ask after lodgings.” 

“How many in his party?” The man didn’t question the answer, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to happen. The rich did not often want to be inconvenienced with having to wait if they could help it. He waived his previous question away, not caring about the answer. He had no space in his own dwelling. “We have no inn or official lodgings here. But the headman may have an open space.” 

“I thank you, master.” Arrosh dipped his head a bit further, “Might I ask what town I have the pleasure of visiting?” 

“You’re in Tebalda, four days walk from Zalindreh, three from Tashbaan. Less if you have horse and cart.” The man crossed his arms before pointing in a direction, “Headmaster Minneshan is at the center house. Go there.” With that, he continued on his way. There were better things to do than entertain a slave. 

Again, Arrosh bowed, “Thank you, sir. May the sun be forever bright in your eyes.” With that he went towards the headman’s house. Four days! Zalindreh was a mere four days away! By Etnos, Tash must be smiling at him despite everything.  

Coming to the headman’s home, he was met by the housekeeper at the side door and brought to the house steward, who said that the headmaster was dealing with business in Zalindreh for a time. But that it would be good if Arrosh’s master would be so kind as to grace them with his presence in return for whatever sum of coin seemed good to him. 

With that, Arrosh trotted out of the town, back towards the place he had agreed to meet the rat – mouse at. Hopefully it was there. A plan was brewing in his mind, it might work. Just maybe. He knew this land, this people. All they had to do was act the part right and it shouldn’t be too hard. It may just work. 

XxX

“Here they are!” Corin heard Morri call, his good arm raised in greeting as Arrosh and Zeep crested the hill. They made their way down and to the small group. 

“What news do you bring, friends?” The prince grinned at them, “Are we near Tashbaan?” 

Arrosh nodded, his eyes bright, “We’re near the village of Tebalda, sir, four days journey from Zalindreh and three from Tashbaan.” 

“By Aslan, that’s the kind of news I like to hear!” Corin slapped Arrosh on the back, looking to Zeep he asked, “What do you think of the area, Zeep?” 

“It appears to be a safe enough village, sir.” She answered, “No sickness seemed to be infecting the place and I’ve located two good exit paths from the town if needed.” She looked to Arrosh, “Tell him of the lodgings you secured.” 

“Lodgings and everything?” Corin cocked his head in good humor. The deaths of the day pressed on him as well as the whole situation they were faced with. Orran had been a good soldier and an even better friend. They had saved each other’s lives more than once on the battle field, he’d grown up with him in court. He would have to deal with that later. For now, his team needed a leader and good moral. 

“In our previous plans, I was to act as your slave.” Arrosh was saying, he shrugged, “So I did as such and secured us lodgings at the headmaster’s home. He is away on business but his house steward agreed for us to spend the night in return for whatever coin you deem right.” 

“Well, it’s good we’re only three days from Tashbaan.” Corin raked his hands through his hair, “For we don’t have much to give.” 

The young man looked over their findings, “This should get us to where we need to go for the time being. You could also hire us out for work, which would help.” 

“Who?” Several voices asked at once. 

Arrosh ducked his shoulders some, “Well, Miss Fesh is too fair for anyone to believe she is a slave or servant, they would think her to be Prince Corin’s daughter or likely wife. The – Zeepijeet cannot be anything but hidden. Morri is unable and would be assumed to have been hired protection before his injury. Grethlas could be a hired man, or possibly a slave, but myself and the queen were to be slaves and will be viewed as such either way.” He hesitated for a moment, “So, there are three you could hire out for our stay. It would be better to trade for traveling food with what we have.” 

Corin nodded, pensive, it didn’t feel right to have Aravis working. It was one thing for her to pose as a slave for a couple hours and another for her to be truly working. She was the queen for Aslan’s sake. But there didn’t seem to be another way around it. “I’ll take your word for it, Rosh. How far is this village?” 

“Not far,” Zeepijeet answered, gesturing the way they had gone, “Two miles, three at the most.” 

“Then let’s get a move on!” Corin clapped his hands, “I want to get there before the sun sets. Everything has been portioned out to carry.” He gestured to several different packs that had been rigged from the sail and rope that had washed ashore, “Hopefully, we can trade this cloth sooner rather than later so we won’t have to carry it for long. With what we have, we will be able to get to Tashbaan, secure more funds from Trunin our ambassador, and go get Iliz.” With that, he started to pick up one of the packs and everyone followed suit.  

XxX

Before they started their march, Morri with the crutch Grethlas had made up and his arm in a sling, Arrosh slipped beside Corin. He eyed the make shift pack on the man’s back and the one Fesh carried. He could take Corin’s and Grethlas could take the girl’s. Though, looking at her, she didn’t seem much younger than himself. She was more than likely near his own age. 

“Sir, if it pleases you, when we get in sight of the village, I will take your pack and it may be best for Miss Fesh’s pack to be taken as well.” He had been told to be a guide, so he would. They were going to be objects of suspicion whatever they did, but if they acted the right way it could be eased. He wasn’t about to let the discomfort of suggesting something get in the way of rescuing Iliz. 

“Ah yes, I’m to be a haughty shadow’s merchant and Fesh,” He paused, looking over at the girl who was slightly ahead of them as Zeepijeet led the way, keeping close to the side of the road so as to be able to dart into the grass at a moment’s notice. “Do you think it would be believed that she was my daughter?” 

Arrosh looked at the man, he looked somewhat younger than the king but not by much. He couldn’t be older than thirty but was not in his early twenties either. Fesh was too old to be assumed to be a daughter and it would be asking for trouble if she posed as his sister. Arrosh could already see the offers of marriage if that was the case. 

“I’m afraid not, master.” Arrosh answered, “I would recommend she pose as your wife.” 

The prince grimaced for a moment before shrugging it off, “That’s what I was afraid of. I can’t blame her for coming, poor girl, but it has made everything a bit more complicated.” 

“I’ll go tell her,” Arrosh started to pick up his pace before turning, “Please, sir, don’t be afraid to act harsh and,” He tried out the word the man had used earlier, “Haughty. It will be expected of you – and Miss Fesh. It would be best not to arouse too much suspicion.” 

“Unfortunately, you speak the truth,” Corin said, looking like he wouldn’t enjoy the task before him, “I never did like how your well to do folks acted around here. But if it gets us where we need to go, then so be it.” 

Arrosh couldn't help but send a silent plea to the gods, despite not having an offering, that all would go well. Four days was both terribly close and terribly far. Much could happen in that time.

Chapter Text

The raucous laughter from the other room filtered easily into the kitchen as Aravis sat with her brother and Grethlas. Corin was doing his part with Fesh and Sir Morri, who, being a hired knight, was allowed at the table. They were feasting on what was probably the best the entire town had to offer, drinking to their hearts’ content. Even now, she imagined she could hear Corin boasting about his variety of different accomplishments or assets.  

Aravis pushed the lumpy stew around in her bowl with the flat bread, not sure what to make of it. It was a dish that she’d never had, beans, a few spices, all tied together in a reddish sauce.  

“You should eat,” Arrosh said quietly, looking around at the room behind them. There were a few kitchen staff working as they ate. The house they were in was not large, though it was probably the pride and joy of the headman to the village. It had only one guest room and many of the few staff did more than one task. “We need to finish soon so we can help them clean and prepare for the morning.” That was the deal, they would eat and have a place to stay, then the ‘slaves’ and hired help would assist in what was needed.  

Aravis glanced at him, he was making quick work of the small bowl and flat bread he had, Grethlas was doing the same. Her stomach twinged in hunger and she started back to eating. While the meal itself was unfamiliar, the spices brought a wave of memories. Being in her one of her childhood homes, the gardens they had there, learning to shoot a bow with her older brother. Rishti, her chest ached at the thought of her older brother. How long had it been? How long since she had last thought of him? She had loved him so much. She still did, in her heart.  

Arrosh said something again, quietly looking at her. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, “What was that?”  

Again, he said something, but it wasn’t the common tongue. She frowned, keeping her voice low, “What are you saying, Arrosh?”  

“I asked, ‘Have you forgotten the Calormen tongue?’.” He answered, she couldn’t read what the emotion was on his face, “It seems you have.”  

Aravis shook her head, “I was never taught.” The common tongue was the standard among the elites of the country. It was considered rude and debasing to use the language of the peoples. Only the lowest of the low didn’t know the common tongue. “Your nurse must have taught you and mine did not. Father and Mother surely didn’t.” She bit her lip as she realized her mistake. He’d never truly known Mother. Only their unpleasant step-mother and not for very long at that.  

Arrosh frowned a moment before clearing his face, “Well, thankfully, it shouldn’t make a difference in many places we go. Most use the common tongue as well.”  

Again, the laughter flitted in through the walls and into the room. It wouldn’t be long now before they would retire to their rooms. Aravis tried not to think about where she would have to be sleeping tonight. It had been a long time since she’d had to sleep in anything other than a comfortable bed. But she’d done it before and she’d do it again.  

“When you have finished your food,” One of the kitchen staff, a large man with a beard that hung to the middle of his chest, called over to them, “The men will split the wood. Woman, you will do the wash. Just because you are the lady’s maid,” The way he said it made it seem like a bad thing, or that he did not believe it, “You will still work. The stables must also be cleaned.” He gestured to the wash station, a large bin and a bucket of water.  

“Yes, master.” Arrosh answered, ducking his head towards the man. With one last swipe of the bowl, he finished his meal. Grethlas was not long behind him. Aravis grabbed the bowls and brought them to the wash bucket, her joints complaining at her for having her sit on the ground for her meal. How easily she had become accustomed to tall tables and chairs!  

The wash bucket was piled high with the pots from cooking and dishes from the meal in the other room. With a start, Aravis realized that she’d never truly washed so many dishes. The extent of her washing had been when she was running with Hwin, Bree, and Cor, which had only been the one plate from her brother’s kit.  

“We’ll be back, Vissa,” Grethlas said, walking to the door, using the name that had been agreed upon for her, “After the wood, we’ll have you help us with the stable and to set up the lodgings for the evening.” He wasn’t one of the ones who had a hard time not treating her like the queen. Spending his life on the decks of a ship meant he only had known one authority. The captain. It was Sir Morri who they had to worry about. He had to stop himself from trying to bow nearly every time she passed despite his injuries. It was probably for the best that when they were taking lodgings that their paths wouldn’t cross often.  

Eyeing the stacks of dishes, she rolled up her sleeves and started to work. Everything hurt, the lack of sleep weighing on her, but she wasn’t one to shirk what needed to be done. By Aslan, though, this was quite the mess that they’d gotten themselves into. She was fortunate to even be alive.  

XxX

The daylight had ceased streaming through the windows and the moon had started to rise. Not to mention, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could act like some arrogant lord. How did they do it? This was exhausting. Or mayhaps it was because he’d been shipwrecked this morning and had buried his friends this afternoon. That could be part of it.  

“Your service has been sufficient,” Corin kept his tone just brinking on contempt, a voice he’d heard one of father’s uncle’s use often towards servants, “Now, show us to our rooms.” Blast, he should have said room! No, he had gestured at Fesh and Morri. It should be fine.  

There was Fesh to his left right now, playing the part of a mostly silent, timid wife. Wife. Thank Aslan he didn’t truly have one yet. Otherwise, it would be deucedly awkward trying to explain that to her when he got home. One day, he may. But as of yet, from what he’d seen with Aravis and Cor, or even a number of his cousins, wives just meant they tried to stop you from having fun under the guise of keeping you alive. He had enough trouble with Cor trying that, he wasn’t going to have another source of hindrance just yet.  

“I apologize, master,” The servant bowed, keeping his head low, “We are but a small village, a simple village,” Ah, here was the scraping of many of the Calormene people he remembered. The man went on for a time, saying a maxim or two, and complimenting Corin, before finally getting to the crux of the issue, “We have but one room, Lord Niv.” Right, he’d given a fake name. It was unlikely that anyone would know the name of himself or Aravis, but it was better to be sure.  

The prince did his best to screw up his face in distaste, “Then where is it that you would suggest I put my honored man at arms?” He stressed the word honored, hoping that it would make them suddenly realize they had a second room available. Maybe he could have Fesh stay in there and the men would share a room. It would be the more proper thing to do. But how would he explain that to the servants? Surely, as they believed the two to be wed, it would seem strange for a traveling couple not to share quarters.  

“Yes, yes, eh, honored guest, as the proverbs say,” Evidently, he had made the man nervous, causing more bowing and scraping.   

In the end, it was decided that it would be most improper for a man of Sir Morri’s station to sleep in the stables with the slaves, especially with an injury, and that while none of the servants lived at the house, there was a sleeping room for the off duty guards that Morri could take advantage of. There, the village healer could properly dress his wounds. For a small sum, of course.  

“So be it then,” Corin scoffed, lounging back and towards Fesh, as though he were comfortable being so close to her. For her part, she sat quietly in her seat, looking down. She had done well despite her nerves. Laughing with himself and Morri, smiling as he told stories, but she was always so tense. He couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t rightly natural to play at what you were not.  

“Right this way, master.” The servant bobbed a low bow, gesturing through a door. “The guest quarters are right this way.” Looking to another servant he said, “Take his honored man at arms to the quarters as soon as they have been made ready. Bring him good drink as he waits.”  

XxX

“Have you been under your master’s service long?” Arrosh leaned against the wall with one of the servants, a young man not much older than himself, as they watched Grethlas split the wood. It wouldn’t be long before Arrosh would step in and take a turn. Then it would be Bohantabi, who he was currently talking to. Since he had yet to work his way up the servant ranks, if he ever would, there was a chance that he would deem Arrosh not so far beneath him to warrant not speaking to him. From what Arrosh could tell, it was two different worlds for a slave and a free man. Yet, there was always a place where the two blurred at times.  

“I’m nearing two years.” Was the short answer, he glanced over at Arrosh, “You?” He was tall, lean as befitted his station, and a nose that looked like he may have ran into several walls as a child.  

“Nearing three,” Arrosh crossed his arms, chewing the inside of his lip some, “Was traded by a man named Zardashi. He treats his slaves well.” He paused as he saw the nod of recognition from the man, “My master has actually come in search for another slave for his wife. I know Zardashi was near Zalindreh at times. Is it known if he is still there?”  

The young man shook his head, giving his sparse beard an idle twist, “No. I heard he’d gone to Azro Balda, just outside of Tashbaan. My father had wanted a slave from him to keep house after his wife passed, but the trader had moved on.”  

“Come here, boy.” Grethlas stopped his work, sweat trickling down his forehead. He’d taken his shirt off, saying it was too hot to be working in heat like this, despite it nearing the end of the day. For an older man, his back was corded with muscles he must have earned on the sea. Even the short time he had spent aboard a ship had taught Arrosh that the waters were a cruel mistress.  

Arrosh nodded, trying to keep his features flat as he took in the news from the freeman. How close had he been to trying to get the party to go to Zalindreh instead of Tashbaan? Azaroth was smiling upon the venture. He must be.

Arrosh grabbed the ax from Grethlas and began. There wasn’t much left to do as they’d already taken a few rotations. It felt good to be working again, an honest sweat sticking his shirt to his back. It was easier not to think. Not to think about what had been, what was, or what may be to come.  

Movement caught his eye and he paused to see Aravis coming out of the cooking room. Her posture as stately as ever, hands clasped in front of her. She still seemed a queen in a costume despite her clothes having been dirtied in the wreck and now spotted with water splashes from the dishes. How did she manage it? Mayhaps it was because he knew what she was. The others didn’t.  

As she passed by the waiting men, moving towards the stables, Bohantabi looked her over with that type of appreciation men gave a beautiful woman before he gave a scoff and muttered something to Grethlas. Grethlas frowned for less than a second before giving a forced smile, seeming to agree with the man. She wasn’t going to be popular as they traveled. Many believed slaves should stay to the shadows. Shadows practically shrank away from the queen.  

XxX

“Vissa,” Arrosh gave Aravis a nod of acknowledgement as she approached, “Have they set you a new task, or has Mistress Fesh called for her evening care?”  

“Mistress,” Aravis paused, trying to think of the right way to word what to say. It wasn’t natural to pretend like this. How did Corin do it so well? Even as she had been washing the dishes, she could hear him acting out his part. He always did have the flare for the dramatic, though. “Mistress is nearing the completion of the meal. When it has finished, I will be assisting her.” At her delivery, she could almost feel Arrosh sighing inwardly. Or mayhaps that just what she thought he felt, as she knew her delivery of the lie was a poor one.  

Her brother merely nodded; a light sweat beaded around his forehead from his work. Unlike Grethlas and the other man, he had kept his light, long sleeve shirt on, though it was starting to cling to him in places. “That’s good. Go to Grethlas, the two of you will start on the stables. I will be there shortly.” The order was soft, not worded as a question or even a suggestion, but the way he said it was as if he’d never told another person what to do before in his life.  

Aravis turned back to the men at the wall. The sailor had donned his shirt again and had propped himself against the wall, his long hair pulled back in tail. At her approach, he started to dislodge himself.   As she opened her mouth to tell him about what Arrosh had said, the servant said something. Something that was definitely not a compliment. With effort, the queen controlled herself, holding herself a bit higher, and ignored the young man.  

“Come, let us start on the stables.” Grethlas gently touched her arm to lead her towards the stables.  

As they walked away, the man gave a low whistle, saying something else in the Calormene tongue. Either he was insulting her or insinuating something. Whatever it was must not have been good. As they passed Arrosh, his face had turned to stone, his jaw set as he split the next log with enough force to send one of the halves skittering away.  

“Come, just ignore him, highness.” The sailor said, barely above a whisper, keeping a hand on her shoulder. “He’s nothing.”  

Aravis let out a breath, taking in another, and continued on with the sailor. She would have to find out what that man had said. If only to learn how to avoid such unpleasant interactions if she could help it.  

Here she was, in her country of birth. The land she grew up in! But why did it feel as though she were on an entirely different planet?  

XxX  

With a breath, Arrosh reminded himself he was a slave. Aravis was a slave. She was not Iliz. She was an estranged sister who felt like she owed him a debt. That was all. That was what he had to tell himself.   

He couldn’t do anything without being punished or hindering their progress. Iliz was more important. What the man said wasn’t worth that.  

“Do they let you have a piece, boy?” The insufferable creature looked far too pleased with himself. It was the small things that made someone so low feel powerful.  

Arrosh shook his head, “No, she’s the mistress’ maid,” He paused, the man wouldn’t believe him if he left it at that, “I wouldn’t recommend touching her, sir. The master is possessive of his women. She’s his.” At least they wouldn’t be staying here long. At a new town they could say something else. Word may spread fast, but not that fast and small details would be missed anyways.  

Bohantabi nodded, thinking what Arrosh had wanted him to, “Ah, that is why she is so high and mighty.”   

Arrosh finished the last piece, “Yes, she has that problem. Can’t beat her, though. The master doesn’t like marks.” It felt vile lying like this. Twisting this woman who would never do such a thing no matter what station of life she was in. “This is completed. Now I will help with the stables.” With a small, shallow bow, he excused himself and headed towards the stables.  

XxX

Morri settled back on the cot, gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his leg. Where his leg had been hit hadn’t broken anything but weight on it was still dreadful. The break in his arm was no picnic either. If he was being honest, none of this was.  

The healer, a wizen old man, back rounded with age, hadn’t seemed to do much. He’d shaken some plants over the wounds, said some words in a sing song voice, and left. Not even clean bandages. A small pit wormed in the young man’s stomach, he had heard far too many stories about people dying from soiled bandaging or becoming horribly ill.  

“Sir?” The small voice of Zeep came from beneath the cot, before she slowly poked her head out.  

“Zeep!” Morri whispered with a smile, “I am glad to see you. How is everything?” They were alone in the room, though it housed two other cots. From what he could tell, those that generally spent the evenings here would sleep elsewhere. But one never knew if another was nearby. Whispering would be best.  

“I’ve confirmed all are safe and settled in their sleeping places. No one seems to be making any plans towards the party.” That was Zeepijeet, business as usual. “The goods have a watch on them with Arrosh and Grethlas.”  

“Do you know,” Morri started before he felt the heat rise to his face. The mention of sleeping places had set him thinking on his sister. But Prince Corin was an honorable man. It would be a disservice to him to even ask. Instead, he asked, “Have you eaten?”  

“Yes, the kitchens are not well guarded.”  

The mouse seemed to sense his original question, she gave a small smile as only the Narnian mice were able, “The prince has sent word to assure you that all is ‘well and above board’ as for sleeping arrangements. They called for more blankets and a separate cot has now been made up.”  

Despite his relief, the young man couldn’t help the burn that held his features even so, “Thank you, Zeepijeet.”  

The mouse gave a small bow, “Yes, sir. I’ll be going to bed down nearby, if there is any trouble just shout.”

Chapter Text

“Mistress, it’s time to wake.” A hand was placed on Fesh’s shoulder, trying to pull her from her sleep. But no, that couldn’t be. She was no mistress. Yet the weight was on her shoulder still and it had turned to shaking. Wait. The plan. The shipwreck. Fesh awoke with a small gasp, sitting straight up in the bed.  

The queen was looking at her, seeming none too impressed that it had taken that long to wake her or even that she had to be awakened. Fesh was a servant. She should be used to early rising. Oh, but after the past few days she had, she still felt as though she could sleep for a whole week. Even the small, cold bath she’d had last night hadn’t been enough to make her feel truly human.  

The queen. The queen was in front of her. As her servant. Fesh felt her face get hot as she fully awoke.  

“Your maj-” She started, slipping off the bed and curtsying. Her mother would be horrified. The queen of Archenland herself had needed to wake Fesh up and was acting as a servant.  

“Hush!” The queen hissed, darting forward to press a finger to the young woman’s lips. “This house is full of listening ears,” She whispered, “I appreciate your loyalty but even behind closed doors we must be on display.” Then in a louder voice she said, “The morning meal is nearly ready, mistress, shall we prepare you?”  

“Y-yes.” Was all Fesh could stammer out, glancing at the empty pile of blankets in the corner, she asked, “Where is,”  

“Your husband went to settle the accounts so we can leave for more civilized lands as soon as the meal has been completed.” The queen answered, silently guiding Fesh to sit down, where she started to comb her hair out and plait it.  

Husband. Another thing that would have made her mother melt with shame. Not only had her daughter shared a room with a man, but that man had been a prince, he had been the one to sleep on the floor, and they were pretending to be married no less! She had tried to insist that the prince be the one to sleep on the bed, as he was royalty after all. But he stated that it was nothing and he had slept on far harder turf before. When she tried again, he simply said his honor demanded he sleep on the floor and, if she wanted to, she too could sleep on the floor.  

“I’m sure it would be nicer for you to sleep on the bed. But, if you’d like, there is enough floor space for both of us.”  

She knew he had meant that there was enough space for it to be proper. Even so, it had made her face redden and she’d sheepishly chosen the bed instead, her back firmly towards him.  

“There!” The queen finished the plait, tying it off with one of the pieces of rope they had that had been split into smaller pieces, “Now, I think the meal should be prepared now, mistress.”   

Fesh rose looking to the woman in thanks. Even in her servant’s outfit, she was a queen. How could anyone mistake her otherwise?   

Just as no one who truly looked could tell that Fesh was anything other than a servant.  

“Yes, let us go to the dining room.”  

XxX

Aravis tried hard not to be irritable. After so many years in Anvard, she’d become accustomed to waking after the sun most days. Today, she’d woken when it had only been a faint impression, the sky a light grey. Her skin still prickled and itched; her muscles ached as though she were still sleeping in the hay of the stables. Evidently, the bucket of water from the well she had attempted to use before starting the day hadn’t been sufficient.  

It wasn’t so much any of that. Though, Aravis was sure it didn’t help. It had been nigh on thirteen years since she’d had to do anything like this after all. No, it was Arrosh. He had dodged her questions as to what the manservant had said the evening before and the looks the other servants were giving her today. If she’d had no worries about time or drawing attention to herself, the queen would have grabbed one of them by the collar and demanded to know what the problem was.  

As they came into the dining room, Sir Morri struggled to stand and bowed slightly towards them. Aravis fought hard not to frown, they would have to try to get him not to... oh yes, Fesh was his supposed superior currently. He was right to bow, even when Aravis was hiding her identity.   

Corin, true to his character, had merely looked up as he lounged against his chair, “Ah, finally! Now we can eat.” He glanced Aravis over quickly, as if to make sure she was still whole and fine. He had wanted to find a way for her to sleep in the room while he slept in the stables or in the guard quarters. It couldn’t be risked though. Even their conference last night had been hushed and hurried.  

As Fesh sat next to Corin, he gave the young woman a familiar grin, “As soon as the meal is finished, we’ll be setting out for Taashbaan. I’ve heard there are more civilized places, with actual inns on the way.”  

Aravis started away as the servant girl – Fesh, gave a timid nod, “That will be nice.” As she got to the door, Aravis remembered to bob a curtsy and left. Grethlas would be guarding the goods while Morri ate and the two ‘slaves’ did some last bit of work.   

XxX

Arrosh breathed in a sigh of relief as the group finally started on their way again. He’d managed to get a moment to tell the prince of his discovery before they left. Depending on how much money they had left, there was a chance they would stop there before going to Taashbaan.  

“Arrosh,” The queen’s voice came from beside him, it was quiet, going just below that of the general chatting of the crowd, and insistent. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten my questions. I need to know so that way -”  

Arrosh slowed down so that they were in the back of the group, Morri cast them a glance but continued on his way, talking with Grethlas about one of the places the man had been. He had planned on finding a way to mention what had happened kindly but hadn’t figured out how yet. Well, he was going to have to soon it seemed.  

“It,” Should he lie? Say it was nothing? It would be easier. But no. It would only happen again and he may not be there to push a man towards the wrong, but safer thoughts. The king would kill him if anything happened to his wife. Arrosh wasn’t sure he could even live with himself if that happened because of negligence.  

Arrosh took a breath, speaking low and quickly, “He had asked if you were the master’s prize dog. Which -”  

“I remember what it means,” His sister answered, her face grim, “What else did he say?  

“He said you were the camp, uh,” He looked away from her, his face heating up, “The camp’s, well, dog. Then he asked if we charged for outsiders.” He kept the end blunt, hoping that it would send the message. If Bohantabi, a simple servant, had asked then others might as well.  

Glancing at her, he saw her mouth open some in shock. “That is vile!” She sounded horrified. Good. After a moment, she regained herself, “What did you say to him. I looked back and both of you were talking.”  

Here it was. “I may have insinuated that you were strictly for the master and no services were for sale. Only so that he wouldn’t make any unwanted advances towards you.” He said, trying to explain as quickly as possible. So much for kindly. If she had thought that he would try to save her honor or some such then she was wrong. They wouldn’t have believed him anyways. “Please, don’t be mad.”  

She was silent for a moment, thinking, “Well, thank you, I guess. Though I would rather you not say such things.” At that, his sister wrinkled her nose.  

“Would you rather it be thought of you or others think you’re merely the lady’s maid?” He asked, though he had a feeling he knew the answer. For the plan, however, it would work either way.  

“I don’t think I can control that.” The queen sniffed some, “I learned long ago that people will think what they will.”  

“If you want less people assuming the first one,” Arrosh tried carefully, pointedly not looking at her, “It may be best to, well, hold yourself like a queen? As the proverbs say, ‘silver can be hidden beneath tarnish but gold needs a clever cover.’.” How else could he put it? “In what you’re wearing, that of a slave or servant, someone may be more likely to think you’re a woman who thinks more highly of herself for, uh, the wrong reasons.” By Tash, this was not a conversation that he ever thought that he would be having.  

XxX

Aravis stopped herself from making a biting comment, instead saying, “You’re not wrong, brother.” She shouldn’t be annoyed for being told how she may be perceived by someone who had lived there his whole life. A good fight was fun and all but this wasn’t the time or place. Or person for that matter. Just talking so frankly with her seemed to be making the boy want to melt into the earth itself. Not that she could fault him. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant topic.  

“Now, Aravis, do droop your shoulders a bit and step heavier and try to look less like a princess. Try to imagine you've been kicked and cuffed and called names all your life.”  

Aravis smiled some at the memory, watching Arrosh hurriedly join the rest of the group. Back then, she’d been young, a child really, and had fired something right back at Bree even as they were approaching the gates of Tashbaan. So much had changed since then.  

Shaking her head, she moved to walk with Corin at the front, shouldering her pack with new resolve. There were plenty of people on the roads at this time of day, but most gave them a wide berth. Hopefully, their ill armed group wouldn’t become an interest for the wrong sort of people.  

XxX

“So, how far have you traveled before all of this?” Sir Morri asked Arrosh as he stumped along on his crutches. The man at least had clean bandages now. Apparently, upon seeing that nothing had been done for the knight, Prince Corin had put up enough of a fuss that they had been willing to part with them for free. The healer had probably put a blessing of some sort and went away. Hopefully he hadn’t been in a bad mood and cursed the man instead of blessed him. It wasn’t as if the knight would know the difference. Arrosh had heard of men dying within a fortnight after a curse from a witchdoctor.  

“After my family settled down on the coast,” Arrosh answered, “I didn’t go far. We had just enough work in the towns around that we didn’t have to travel much.”  

“Ah, not a bad thing then.” The man nodded, slipping something from his pocket as his sister passed by, a small grin on his face that he obviously tried to hide. “Before you settled and after you left for Archenland, did you get to see much of Calormen?”  

Miss Fesh frowned slightly as whatever it was in her brother’s hand was transferred to hers, then she smiled softly, continuing up towards the front of the group.   

With so many people on the roads, both herself and Prince Corin had no packs. Really, the two of them should be walking in the middle of the group with a man at the head and another in the back. While there were the men in the back, the prince had refused to stay to the middle, saying that the people on the roads would merely pass it off as the eccentricities of foreigners. To which Arrosh guessed meant the strangeness of foreigners. These barbarians and their words. Not that the elites of Calormen were much better. It may have been the common tongue but sometimes it might as well have been an entirely different language.  

“Before settling, we saw some, but one Calormen town or village looks much the same as another. Never did live in a city as none would have us.” Arrosh answered with a shrug, it was a lie. There had been a few months that his family had spent on the streets of a city or two before his father realized they would starve if they stayed. But there was only so far that he was willing to admit to someone he didn’t know well.   

Fesh was making her way back towards them as he continued, trying to be somewhat more truthful, “After, we were on the coast, so all I’ve seen is the ocean and some islands in the distance from a ship.” Fesh began to walk with them, so Arrosh asked, “What of you two?”  

“Never been outside of Archenland.” Morri answered frankly, grimacing as the road dipped some and jostled his leg. His face was red, despite the covering, and slick with sweat but not a word of complaint had yet been heard from him.  

“Barely outside of Anvard, truly.” Fesh chipped in as she walked between the two men, “We lived in a small town right next to it, before our parents brought us to the city as children.” Something hard was pushed against the inside of his hand from hers. Arrosh frowned, taking it and looking down. It was a rock, warm from being held for a time.  

“What is this for?”   

“Don’t tell me you haven’t played Silent Stone before.” Sir Morri said, a smile creeping onto his face as Arrosh shook his head.  

“It’s a well-known game in Archenland,” Fesh said, she pointed to the rock in his hand, “There’s the stone, and during a trip it’s passed back and forth. No one is to acknowledge it, in passing or taking. At the end of the journey, whoever is the one with the stone has to be silent the rest of the day or do whatever the rest of the group says to do.”  

“Fesh and I used to play it with our friends on our way to school or back.” Morri grinned, “Haven’t play it in ages, honestly.”  

Arrosh let a small smile slip onto his face, “Ah, well, I’m sorry I spoiled the game then.” As he said it, he pressed the stone back into Fesh’s hand. “Is there a punishment for noticing the rock?”  

Fesh took it and shook her head, “Not for a first time like this. But if it’s done again, then you share the fate of the one with the stone.”  

“I will do what I can in the future to not disgrace myself as such.”  

“I believe you’ll do quite well.” Morri nodded with mock seriousness, stumping along down the road.  

XxX

“So, we should make it to the town by this evening?” Aravis asked Corin as they walked down the road. As of now, the road was mostly empty, many having gone towards another town that many sold their wares at. If one of the merchants was to be trusted, at the next cross roads they would be joining the next stream of people going to the town ahead of them. Taash-something-or-other.  

“If everyone we’ve spoken to was truthful.” The prince kept his eye sharp on the area around. It was mostly fields here, some animals being kept in a pasture, and few trees. The grass, however, was tall and could easily hide a man or a small band of ne’er-do-wells. Zeep, who was scouting ahead, could only see so much and only one side of the road. Sir Morri had been told to keep watch in the back and Grethlas was to be with him as the rear guard. The man apparently had learned something of fighting while aboard a ship. Orran would be -  

It hit Corin like a punch to the middle.   

Orran couldn’t be any help. Never could be again. He was gone now. His most trusted, loyal soldier lay in a shallow grave in a foreign land. His friend was dead. The road blurred for a moment, tears threatening to spill over into the open.  

“There should at least be an inn there then.” His sister-in-law's words brought Corin back to himself. He hadn’t gotten the chance to fully confront himself what had happened last night as he had been sharing a room with Fesh. Or that was what he had told himself. Mayhaps tonight there would be a chance to be alone for a moment to contemplate and properly grieve. For now, he wouldn’t think on such things. Not on the past. Not on how his friend had died.   

Wait, how he died. How daft he had been! The boy had been the one to help in the passing. Not once had Corin checked with him. While he hadn’t truly killed the man, the mind did not always see it that way. Oh, by Aslan, why hadn’t he thought of speaking with the boy? Had he truly been wrapped that deeply in his own troubles to neglect his own men?  

“Are you alright, Corin?” Aravis set her hand his arm, a frown lacing her features.  

“I’m fine, Ara.” Corin flashed her a grin, but couldn’t help but look back towards Arrosh, “I’m just thinking.” The boy didn’t seem to be in distress, he was talking with Grethlas about the man’s time at sea. Yet, how often had Corin himself hid behind a smile?  

“I’ll be glad to be off the road and in town.” Fesh sighed some, her tawny hair peeking out from the covering they’d made out of some of the cloth they’d saved. Everyone with had fashioned something from either the worst of the cloth or the sail in the hopes to reduce the chances of burning or overheating.  

“You’re not alone in that, miss.” Corin nodded, “From there, we should be able to sell this cloth and purchase supplies.”  

“Prices will be better there.” Arrosh agreed quietly, “I would suggest selling as much as possible while we’re there.”   

With the position as guide and council, Corin was curious to see how the young man would start to step into the confidence that tended to come with such positions. It being only their second full day, he wasn’t surprised to see no signs yet. The fact that he was talking was enough. In Anvard, even during their planning, the boy had been mostly silent, only answering to questions.   

Positions of importance often brought people out of the shadows. Cor was a prime example. Corin smiled some, thinking of his brother not long after he’d returned, awkward and unsure of his place. What was he doing now? Had their friends been found? Aslan, let it be so.  

XxX

How were they mere days away from the meeting place with Lord Peridan and not a scent of good news to be found? The thrill of finding Queen Susan’s horn had long since diminished. Talking to the trees of the area had produced nothing but confusion.   

They were there. Then they weren’t.  

Aslan’s mane, Cor had gone as far as taking to the mountains to talk to the hags and ogres of the land to see if they had heard of any nefarious or dark beings in the area of late. Nothing!  

The king’s mount whickered beneath him, “We’ll find them, I’m sure of it, Shasta.”  

Cor gave a wry smile at the monicker, “By Aslan, I pray we do, Bree. Thank you for taking the journey with me, old friend.”  

“Old friend, eh?” Bree gave a laugh that only talking horses could make. He was well up in years now, having had foals of his own and now he’d just recently had his first grand-foal.  

Cor resisted the urge to pat his friend’s neck like a normal horse (There was only so much Bree’s pride would allow for), and changed the subject instead, “How is your lady, Bree? You mentioned she was visiting your oldest foal not long ago.”  

Bree snorted some, shaking his head to rid himself of the flies, “I received word from the messenger raven a day ago saying she is still well and wishes us the best on the search. All of Narnia is holding their breath until our monarchs are found.”  

“Yes,” Corin sighed, looking out across the wooded lands trying his best to stay hopeful despite the pit of despair forming in his middle, "Yes they are.”  

Chapter Text

While the town was far from that of Tashbaan, the structure seemed to be similar. A few beautiful, small estates outside the town gates, while within the gates you had to work your way in to get to the nice places. Around them was the usual crush of humanity that Aravis remembered so well from the times she spent in the cities as a child. Though, having lived mostly in the country, her main memories were that of her escape through Tashbaan. Refuse, animal waste, unwashed bodies, and smoke mixed with the scents of spices, perfumes, and street foods to form a strange, no longer familiar smell that had the queen longing for the fields and gardens of the Anvard palace.  

The others in the party seemed to be of a similar opinion as she saw the maid wrinkle her nose, trying to subtly pull her head covering over her face. Even Grethlas did not seem pleased about it. 

Arrosh was the only one who didn’t seem to mind as he wove easily through the crowd at the head of the group. There weren’t enough men to form a circle around the more vulnerable of the party so instead they all kept close together with men at the front and back. Despite this, Aravis couldn’t help but feeling somewhat uneasy. None of them had any weapons, except Zeepijeet and she was currently hiding in one of the packs since they weren’t sure if she would be able to keep up with them or not lose them as she hid amongst the peoples. Without anything formidable, they could very well become a target for unwanted parties. Though, according to those they’d spoken to, the size of the group was just big enough to give pause in cities. It was on the roadways that they would have to be careful. 

Eventually, they came to a market area, which had even more people around though it hadn’t seemed possible. The boy led them to a sign on a shop that read, ‘Estaliana’s Tailoring’ with a symbol of a needle and thread. Pausing at the door, he looked to Corin, “It would be best to just take you, the cloth, and myself inside. If that is agreeable to you, master.”  

“Will anyone be disturbed if we leave them out here for long?” The prince asked, smoothing his hair and straightening his clothes as he prepared to go inside. He had never been much of one to care about looks but at least he knew now not to look like some wastrel or vagabond. 

“Nothing that Grethlas and Sir Morri cannot handle.” Arrosh waved his hand around some, “The most they will get is someone trying to sell their wares to the mistress here.” With them being in such a public space, it had been agreed to continue the act. Despite that, Fesh still blushed and ducked her head when Arrosh nodded towards her at the word mistress. Aravis knew what it was to pose as someone far below your station in life. But how was it to pretend to be someone above it? She couldn’t imagine. 

“So be it.” Corin finished his preening, looked Arrosh over to make sure the young man was similarly ready, then took a breath, “Let’s get this done.” 

“You have the easy part, master.” Her brother cracked a small grin, more a slight baring of the teeth, “All you have to do is stand there, look commanding, and let me do the talking.” 

“Looking this handsome and commanding, as you say, is hard work.” The prince returned the smile, slapping Arrosh on the shoulder some. As he did so, Aravis could have sworn the boy tensed for just a moment before relaxing again. The look on his face was different now somehow, the smile didn’t meet his eyes. Before she could observe further, the pair turned and went inside. 

XxX

Corin heard the bell chime loudly as they walked through the door. It was a room filled with bolts of fabric, clothing on headless figures, and a desk directly ahead of them with a middle-aged woman standing behind it. She was slight of frame, her features sharp with high cheekbones and an imperious nose framed by the deep purple head covering she wore. As would be expected, her clothing was trim and neat, embroidery lining the edges. 

“How can I be of service?” She asked, looking to Corin with a smile. Corin, true to character, looked away and tried to view the room with what could be termed as disgust. 

“Do you speak the local tongue?” Arrosh asked, his shoulders straight and head slightly tilted up, “My master does not deal with such matters.” 

To this, the woman scowled some before answering something in what Corin presumed was the local tongue. Arrosh replied, his tone suggesting he was asking if she was looking for cloth to add to her collection. Besides what they had taken for sun protection, the cloth was neatly folded in a pile, being held by Aravis before they got the affirmative from the shop owner. 

The woman raised an eyebrow but nodded an ascent. Arrosh opened the door, took the cloth, and laid it before her on the table. Looking it over, she seemed to ask a question. To which came a long-winded answer, the boy picking up the cloth, gesturing at it, then her. They continued to go back and forth for a time.  

At one point, Arrosh had gone and whispered quietly in his ear, “She is being difficult, master, but she does want the whole stock. I am asking fifty crescents, and she has offered fourteen. I will take no less than thirty or thirty-five if it is agreeable with you.” Corin simply nodded disdainfully at this. What did he care of such matters? Or that was what he tried to convey. 

Finally, they seemed to come to an agreement, after Arrosh had nearly walked away, taking the cloth with him. Once he’d put them back at her call, the woman took it and started to count out coins. If he counted correctly, it seemed that they had agreed on thirty-three. 

XxX

Arrosh took a breath as they left the shop, that was over and they had gotten a decent price for the cloth. It was quality and after having washed it while at the last house, it still looked just as nice as it had before the wreck. He wasn’t sure what the cloth was actually worth, but thirty-three crescents were more than enough to get lodging for the night, food for their travels, a few supplies, and maybe some would be left over. 

“Now to an inn or to the market?” Sir Morri asked, despite the grin on his face there was a sheen of sweat on his blotchy, pink forehead and his voice barely hid the strain. 

“I think an inn would be best, master.” Arrosh answered, eyeing the young man before looking to the prince. “We will get better prices if we have a smaller group. It will also allow our passenger to have a chance to stretch her legs.” The sack he’d just picked up and slung carefully over his shoulders nodded vigorously. 

“The inn it is then.” The prince nodded, looking around as if getting his bearings, “I thought I saw one earlier.” 

“If the merchant we spoke to on the way here is correct,” Arrosh answered, starting back towards where he had also seen the inn, “There’s only one inn currently. The other burned down not long ago and most merchants have town houses here.” He waved his hand some, “We shouldn’t have to worry, today is not a large market day so most will be local. As the proverbs say, ‘A stranger in the gates is better than one who has spent an eternity within its walls’, thus we will be welcomed.” 

“Do they really say that?” Morri asked, huffing some as he stumped along. 

“My father did,” Was all Arrosh answered as they wove their way through the people, it wasn’t quite time for everyone to be out yet. He was relatively sure that his father had only said that to make his wife feel better, considering he had stopped after she had died. 

Not long later, they got to the simple affair that was the inn. Good enough for the traveler and for a lowly merchant. It was a two floor, flat building made of stone and plaster, someone having taken the time to make a few small decorations around the doors and windows that had started to wear away. The other inn had likely been better than this. Arrosh wouldn’t be surprised if the owner of this one burned the other down to remove his competition. 

Walking inside revealed that it was much the same as the outside. Nothing special, the lack of proper lighting hiding any problems that might deter potential customers. There was a main room with low tables, a small incense pot, and in the corner was a fat little man sitting on a cushioned seat with a sickly smile that made his fat rolls pull back more than it seemed they should. He definitely burned his competition down. 

“Hello, weary travelers!” The man waved his hands with a flourish but did not deign to stand, “I am enriched and my day has been enlightened upon your arrival. You may call me, Ghamalba. To whom may I have the honor of speaking to?” 

Arrosh gave the smallest of bows, knowing this man had the power to kick them out on the streets on a whim, “Greetings, oh master of this delightful home, Ghamalba. You have proven insightful and wise to see that we are indeed weary travelers.” He swept his hand towards his party members. At the glance, he saw that Prince Corin had put his ‘uppity lord’, as the man called it, face on, and Fesh was trying to keep her head at least level. The rest stayed in the back, truly looking weary. Even Aravis kept her head down.  

“My master, Lord Niv,” Arrosh gestured to the prince, then the maid, “his wife, Lady Fesh.” Hopefully he had used the correct titles. He had overhead the servants at the last house calling them that. “And his humble servants.” Turning fully to the man once again, he said, “Our travels have been long and troublesome, have you any rooms available?” Mentally he counted how many would be needed. Three would be the expected desire. 

That petulant smile stayed in place, “What a delight to have been blessed with such an opportune meeting, oh my guests! Yet, the times may yet be dark for your company, I fear.” The smile promptly turned to a frown, “For we do not have enough empty rooms to accommodate such a large party.” 

Probably because he burned the other place down, Arrosh thought uncharitably. Instead, he put that wheedling tone into his voice that he’d heard his father use when trying to get the foreman to increase his wages or to pay less for something in the market. He smiled at the man, “Oh my host, how many rooms may be at open?” 

“But one, I fear, my unfortunate guest.” The man waved his hand some, his face having gone to a more neutral countenance, “It has but one bed and the room itself will not host your number.” 

“Oh, my most thoughtful host, as the proverbs say, ‘A lightened purse may have cause for a heavy heart, unless the hand which unloads it receives something of value in return.’” Arrosh kept the tone, resisting the urge to shake the man. He had been hoping to that this would be quicker, so that they could get to the market before everyone else in the town would be out as well. 

The prince sniffed disdainfully, saying something in what sounded like a foreign language, placing his hand on his ‘wife’s’ shoulder for a moment before looking away to inspect the interior of the room. Did the barbarians have their own language too? No time to think about that. 

Arrosh nodded, bowing hastily towards the prince, “Yes, oh my master.” Turning back to the inn keeper, who seemed more interested now, “I fear, if there is no way for the room to be let, we shall bring our presence elsewhere.” 

“Oh my imperious guests,” The smile was back as the man looked to the prince and maid, his voice taking that greedy turn that made Arrosh know they would be offered the room, “I must be the greatest fool whom Azaroth has ever deigned to keep alive, for I have just remembered that the room that is left is one of the larger ones which we have in this humble dwelling. We also have stables in which your servants may stay.” 

‘Lord Niv’ was quiet, seeming to contemplate the offer yet not thinking much of it. Finally, he gave the faintest of nods to Arrosh. 

“You will be given five crescents to let the room. Seven if there is a morning meal included. The servants will sleep in an unused stable for their labor in cleaning, and stocking any troughs needed.” Arrosh replied matter-of-factly, it was easier to haggle buying at a low cost than to sell for a higher one. 

“Five crescents wouldn’t see a man renting a ditch by the road for a night, boy.” The inn keeper glowered at the young man, “A room and meal will be twenty crescents, we have no need for work.” 

Arrosh waved his hand, much like the man had himself done before, “For no work from my master’s servants and a room, we will give you eight without a morning meal.” 

“Seventeen.” 

“Oh my host, do you think we are not only weary but daft as well as blind?” Arrosh scoffed, “As the proverbs say, ‘A man of just scales will prosper but greed will lead even the most judicious off a cliff.’ You will be given eleven with a morning meal.” 

“And does my esteemed guest think it cost nothing to keep a house as such? Fifteen with a morning meal and the servants staying in the stables.” 

“Twelve for the room and additional blankets.” 

“Thirteen.” The man’s eyes lit at the prospect of such a great man having share quarters with his own servants. The prince made sure to frown some at that. 

“Thirteen for that and a morning meal, half portions for the servants.” The half portions would be unfortunate, but it would be the only way the inn keeper would agree to such a price. With what they could buy at the market should make up for it. 

“It is agreed.” 

“Good, now enough of this and show my master to his room.” How strange it was to act mightier than a wealthy inn keeper. Yet Arrosh had seen it time and again. It may not have been his personal coin, but money still had a strong influence. As the proverbs said, ‘It is not the small man who moves mountain, but the purse of the one directing him.’ 

Not long later, the inn keeper’s wife, a dour faced woman with the face of a bird who had never gotten quite enough bugs, lead them up the stairs to their room. With a huff, she threw the door open, saying something about coming later with more blankets at a later time. Mayhaps it had been her who had burned the other inn down.  

XxX

Fesh breathed in a sigh of relief once the door was shut behind the group. That had been dreadful! All this stopping and waiting was wearing on her nerves. 

Ahead of her, Prince Corin put his hands on his hips and nodded to himself, “I think this will do quite nicely. Aravis, Zeep, and Fesh can take the bed and the rest of us will fit on the floor well enough. People shuffled around enough for everyone to be able to get a good look at the room. It was smaller than the size of many of the guest quarters in Anvard but larger than what she had seen of the servants’ rooms. The decorations were simple, worn painted accents on the walls and a small figurine on a shallow ledge by the one window, which faced out towards the street. It was nice and quaint, not much to dust either. The bed was large enough to comfortably fit two people – and a talking mouse, she supposed. 

At that moment, the mouse popped out of the bag and stretched, “Oh, by Aslan’s mane, that was dreadful! I never wish to do such a thing again.” 

The queen smiled in her quiet way, “Thank you for being willing, Zeep.” 

“I’m just happy your brother didn’t begin to run or to dance, I may have not made it had such a venture occurred.” The mouse grinned, turning to Arrosh she said, “Thank you, sir, for your efforts and for walking so soft of foot.” The young man ducked his head in acknowledgement.  

"So where do we leave to next?” Morri asked from his place on the floor. He had slid against the wall and sat nearly as soon as they had entered. His face was a splotchy red, his breathing faster from having to climb the stairs. Fesh knelt next to him, moving his hand away from his bandage. As she’d suspected, it was spotted with blood. Better to see blood than anything else, right? He would be fine. He had to be. He just had to be. They had never been all that close, him being several years older than her, but she hadn’t stowed away on a ship just because it would get her away from a man who terrified her. Even if she had, it didn’t mean that she would be alright and dandy if he died. 

Fesh shook her head to clear her thoughts, she was not going to go down that road. Morri would be fine. Beaten and bruised, but fine. 

“You won’t be going anywhere, good man.” The prince answered, he gestured at what was left of their baggage, “We need someone to watch our luggage.” 

“If it pleases you, master,” Arrosh spoke, looking out the window, “It may be best for as few people as possible to go. The crowds have become rather thick.” 

“I will stay with Sir Morri,” The sailor gave a tired smile, “These old bones need some rest after all that walking.” 

“I will scout out the surrounding area, you need not worry about me weighing you down.” Zeep hopped up onto the ledge, peaking out through the window, sniffing the air that filtered in. After a moment she said, “I may not be able to until tonight, I’m afraid. There is a vendor directly across the street who seems more observant than most. Or when he leaves, I will go.” 

“Will you have sufficient coverage, Zeep?” The prince asked, looking out with her. 

“Yes, your highness, it will be easier here than it was in that village.” 

“So be it.” With that he turned, eyeing Aravis, he asked quietly, “And for you, your majesty?” Even as he lowered his voice, Fesh could imagine a listening ear at the door. 

“I would like to go. The sun still has hours yet before it sets, and I wouldn’t wish to stay here that long.” The queen answered, her poise and self-confidence more evident as they were alone. How strange it must be to play at someone being so far below your own station. But she supposed the woman had done that before as a girl if she was recalling the story correctly. 

“May I go as well?” Fesh found herself asking, the thought of staying here until they were to leave in the morning seemed so dull. Surely there wouldn’t be that many more people outside. She couldn’t stand the thought of sitting here, worrying about everything. Better to distract herself if possible. 

Corin looked to Arrosh, who in turn mulled the matter over. Looking up he said, “There are a good number of people on the streets, miss. With just two men, it will be near impossible to keep you properly protected. My sister will have an easier time, but the master and yourself may have difficulties as people try to sell their wares.” 

“I will stay close.” Fesh clasped her hands together.  

“Both of you should.” Prince Corin replied, “I don’t see any harm in it, Rosh. The inn keep will merely think it’s a merchant and his wife out on the town with servants to keep the vagabonds away or tend to their wants.” 

Arrosh looked out at the crowd once more, “You’re right, master, I worry too much.” 

Chapter Text

Xx Aravis xX

Maybe Arrosh had been right to worry, Aravis thought with little humor, clasping the maid’s hand tightly in her own to keep them from being separated. Everything had started out fine, Corin walked just ahead, clearing the way, and Arrosh took up the back. Then they had gotten closer to the market, and it had started to get harder to keep up with Corin. He had just stopped at a vendor selling what looked like dried meats and some traveling gear when the rest of them caught up. He’d looked back at them, a question in his eyes, Aravis had nodded that they were fine. It hadn’t been long after that when they’d been separated. Aravis had been so focused on keeping up with Corin that she didn’t know when they had lost Arrosh, but it had been an icey stab to the heart when she realized that it was not only Corin that they had lost.  

They had tried to look at the vendors they had been near, tried to call above the crowd, listen for their own names. But their friends were nowhere to be seen, and the area was too full of hawkers, vendors, and haggling to hear even their own voices. They needed to get back to the inn. But which way had they come? The market area was a large, sprawling area where every corner looked nearly the same. It was all tents, booths, open mats, people swirling around like a jar of sand water someone had shaken. So much happening all at once. Aravis needed a place where she could breathe.  

As they wandered through the market, their eyes searching for a familiar face, the two women came to the edge of the market. Walls of stone buildings rose before them, interspersed with different openings to alley ways. There had to be the main thoroughfare somewhere, they had been on one of the main streets when they had entered the market. Here was different, the market noises just behind them made the small side streets feel eerily quiet. Even on the edge of the market the noise was far less. Aravis took a breath, keeping Fesh’s hand in her own. This was better.  

“I don’t think we’re going to find them in that chaos.” Fesh remarked, looking with tight lips towards the thick of the market. Here there were still vendors, mostly people with mats or larger items that were more difficult to travel with. This was most likely not the most desired area to put one's wares.  

“I think you would be correct.” Aravis glanced at the young woman, amongst the people she had lost her head covering and her yellow hair stood out like the sun. More so than her pale skin.  

They had to get to a main road. From what Aravis could tell, the city had one main road going north to south, then another going east to west. This market was a section close to the center of the northwest quadrant. Or was it the northeast? The inn was on the road that led north to south. Aravis barely contained a sigh of dismay; she should have paid more attention to where they were going! She had sufficient skills in navigation but that didn’t help if she didn’t pay attention originally. She had been so focused on keeping close to Corin that it hadn’t been a thought to keep track of where she was going. The least she could have done was confirm which part of the city the market was in.  

“Greetings, beautiful women, surely blessed by Zardeenah,” An all too confident voice called out from beside them.   

Xx Arrosh xX

Arrosh wove his way through the people. If he were lost in a crowded market, unfamiliar with the city and people, where would he go? He’d try to get back to the inn. And if he didn’t know the way back? Maybe the edges of the market, away from the noise?  

“Fesh! Aravis! Vissa!” Arrosh called out into the crowd, scanning just past those passing him. He had lost them shortly after the first vendor. A man had been trying to approach Fesh and, being the rear guard, Arrosh had moved to intercept him. Little did he realize that none of the rest of the party had noticed, despite everyone keeping rather close. By the time he had convinced the man to move on, he could barely see Corin’s tawny head of hair through the crowd.  

Getting to the man, he found, to their mutual horror, that the women were with neither man. After some frantic searching and calling, the two had reconvened and came up with a plan. Corin would start back towards the inn, in the hopes that he would meet them on the way. Arrosh, more familiar with these types of environments, would search around the market. If Corin did not happen across the women, he would start back towards the market and check with vendors if they had seen them. The two would meet back at the inn come sun set.  

For a moment, on the east side of the market, Arrosh could have sworn that he’d seen that bright, barbarian yellow hair that Fesh had. If he was going to search the outskirts of the market, then he would start on that side.   

By Tash, he hoped he would find them. Or, mayhaps, he should ask their god. No, it was no good meddling with another nation’s gods. What right, as an unknown foreigner, did he have to invoke the dreaded lion god of the north? Surely either the lion or Tash himself would strike him down for doing as such.  

It wasn’t long before the shouts of the vendors died down to mutters as he passed, the booths held together with scraps instead of rope, the people within them looking both desperate and scornful. They could tell he had no interest in making any purchases. The stone walls of the tenements and houses were in view, a small section of cleared road that skirted the side of the market. Just the feel of the area told Arrosh that this was not a place where he wanted to be, even being unwashed and his clothes worn from the wreck. He could only hope that Corin had found the women. If not, he wasn’t sure if he himself had made it in time.  

“A -” Arrosh took a breath, his heart in his throat, “Aslan, I entreat you, oh dreadful one, to find your people.” For a moment, he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the bolt of Tash to fall from above or something terrible from the barbarian god. Nothing happened. Well, it hadn’t worked, but at least he hadn't been struck dead.  

Xx Aravis xX

A bedraggled looking man was walking - no was swaggering towards them from behind a booth that had most certainly seen better days. His hair was long, pulled back into a ragged tail. When he smiled, several teeth were missing. “You seem to have fallen into Etnos’ hand and have lost your way.” He spread dirty hands wide, “I believe I have the perfect place for you both to stay until you find your way once again.”  

Aravis pulled herself up to her full height, baring every shred of disdain and repulsion she could muster, “You are mistaken. We are waiting for our husbands.” It wasn’t much, but without so much as a weapon to their persons, it was all they had.  

The man continued his advance, undeterred. He smiled again, “Well, as the proverbs say, ‘What one man leaves, another may take’.” He was far from a big man, but he was larger than them. If he wasn’t able to take both, then he would most certainly be able to take one of them.  

Aravis gripped Fesh’s hand hard, whispering, “Run.”   

The women bolted away from the man, eliciting a surprised shout and the sound of feet coming from behind them.   

Xx Arrosh xX

Arrosh felt his throat constrict, which way should he go? To his left, he could see far down the way with no signs of the women, that he could tell. To his right, he couldn’t see much at all. A building was in the way and a tent with a large, colorful flag restricted the rest of his view.  

Meow  

The young man nearly jumped out of his skin as the feeling of something brushing against his leg brought him from his thoughts. It was a large cat, the fattest thing he had ever seen of the creatures. Watching it, it went down towards the left for a few steps before turning to look at him.  

Meow  

Arrosh shook his head, he didn’t have time to be distracted by animals. The sun was already starting to sink deeper into the sky. He had less than an hour before he was to meet with the prince at the inn. He could see most of the way down the market to the left, which meant it made the most sense to go to the right.  

“Ow!” Arrosh hopped away, the cat had come up and scratched him! “Get out of here, wretched creature.” He lightly kicked his foot out at it, not really looking to make contact. It may have decided to be insufferable, but he had no interest in truly hurting the animal.  

Meow  

The cat was still to his left, tail twitching almost expectantly. Arrosh sighed, determined to ignore the animal no matter what it did. He gave one last glance down to the left and his breath caught in his throat. There! A shock of blonde hair, farther away, darted across the makeshift road into an alley way, being practically dragged behind another woman. A large man followed shortly after.  

Arrosh started to run, nearly tripping over himself when he heard the scream.  

Tash almighty, Aslan, somebody, let him get there in time.  

Xx Fesh xX

Fesh’s hand ached at the amount of pressure from the queen’s hand and her own squeezing just as tight. That was nothing, though, compared to the terror running through her as the man chased after them. Surely, he would catch them! She couldn’t think of what would happen if he did. She just had to run.  

Aravis ran down the small road that created the buffer between the market and the buildings before running into one of the side streets. The buildings were not terribly tall, not more than one floor in this area, but the space between them was so narrow that Fesh could barely fit beside the queen. The man was still behind them, calling something. They turned a corner, maybe they could lose him. If they were fast enough.  

The two hadn’t gotten more than three steps down the new street, when two men stepped out from the corner ahead of them. It was the only way forward. The look on their faces was enough to tell the girl that this is exactly what they had planned for. The scream was out before she could stop herself as they skidded to a stop. They were going to die.  

Xx Aravis xX

Aravis breathed hard, trying to control her fear as the two men slowly approached. There was a bearded one, his long beard twisted into three curled sections, and the other had trousers far too short for him and nothing but a dirty, blue vest that must have once been rather fashionable. Behind them the brute who had chased them slowed as well. They knew they had time now and seemed determined to make some sport of whatever they had planned.  

The one who had chased them, Gap Tooth, was closest and probably the biggest out of the three. Aravis spun to have her back to Fesh’s, keeping her hand tight.  

“Stay back.” Her voice held authority, her eyes demanding.   

Gap Tooth paused in his approach, cocking his head, his smile almost confused, “This one’s got a mouth on her.”  

“Give us your coin and we’ll be on our way.” Came a high-pitched voice that reminded her of a talking rabbit from behind her. Aravis gave Fesh’s hand a squeeze, hoping she would be quiet.  

“How can we trust you in that?” Aravis answered, shifting from foot to foot. Gap Tooth had a knife, hanging from a beat-up sheath off his hip. If she could get it off him, they may have a chance.  

The sound of running feet caught everyone’s attention. Just behind Gap Tooth, someone skidded to a stop.   

The man growled, turning slightly to reveal Arrosh, his face open with fear, “This doesn’t concern you, boy. Keep moving.”  

Aravis held her breath, not sure what it was that she preferred. If Corin was nearby, he could get help. If not, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t want him to get hurt, but she didn’t want to be left without help either. The answer came in the form of Arrosh darting away. Aslan willing to get help.  

“We need to hurry this up, Torrahk.” The high voice again, “He’s probably going to get the watch.” Sounds of steps from behind came and Fesh instinctively tried to shy away against Aravis – pushing her towards the other brute.  

“You’re right.” Gap Tooth pulled out his knife, he looked to Aravis with a wicked grin, “Now, we were saying,”  

Xx Fesh xX

Fesh tried to catch her breath, tears rolling down her face. They had no money! But what would they do if they found out?  

The bearded one started forward, his hand stretching out towards her. She screamed again, kicking at him though he wasn’t close enough yet. There had to be something around. A rock, debris, something! She dug in her mind for what her brother had told her about fighting. Something about punching and going for the soft spots. Air was hard enough to come by, much less memories from a couple years ago.  

The man came on, a confident smile that reminded her far too much of the landlord’s son, the other one right behind him. He was almost to her when suddenly something large came down from above, hitting him against the wall and he slumped down against it groaning.   

It was Arrosh! He spared her only a glance before he was dodging a blow from the one with the blue vest. The man bared his teeth at Arrosh, “You were told to stay out of this, boy.”  

Xx Aravis xX

Aravis moved quickly, letting go of Fesh’s hand and ducked underneath the grabbing hand of Gap Tooth. Instead, she grabbed his knife hand, using the disarming technique she had been taught at Anvard. King Lune had suggested she learn the basics of disarming and defenses should the need ever arise, Aslan willing it wouldn’t. Now she blessed his memory as she turned the knife over in her hand, glaring at her opponent as he wrung his wrist.  

“I told you to stay back for a reason.” She grit out, sounding far more confident than she was. Her anger, however, was real enough, “Now, you’ll pay.” She started towards him, knife held in a way that revealed the hours of practice which had been devoted to it. The man seemed to come to himself at that. Realizing that he was weaponless, he turned and ran. The sounds of fighting continued behind Aravis as she watched him go, painfully waiting to make sure he truly left.  

Turning, she saw Fesh standing alone, Fancy Beard crumpled to the ground holding his side and groaning, and Arrosh fighting Blue Vest. Aravis felt her heart clench as she came up beside Fesh.  

The man had a knife, slashing at Arrosh’s middle as the boy dodged backwards. As the knife passed, he grabbed the man’s wrist and sent a swift knee to the hand. The knife skittered away down the alley towards the women. Fesh darted forward and scooped up the knife, backing away.   

Blue Vest growled, twisting out of Arrosh’s grip and slammed him against the wall, his forearm against the younger man’s chest, raising his other hand to strike. Arrosh suddenly dropped to the ground, grabbing the man’s ankles and throwing his shoulder against Blue Vest’s knee. The robber fell to the ground, as Arrosh followed on top of him. Arrosh got on top of him, pinning his hands beneath his body, and struck fast and hard several times.  

“Arrosh!” Aravis called, she wanted him to win but she was almost worried he wouldn’t stop. She knew it happened sometimes, Corin called it ‘seeing red’ or some such phrase like that.  

Arrosh delivered one last blow, knocking the man out, and stood up. Aravis released her breath, there was no sign of blood lust in his eyes. No desire to continue. Looking around, he gestured for them to follow him, “We must go. Before that other one circles back around.”  

Without another word, they jumped over the fallen man, and leaving the other behind, they set off at a run down the side streets until they came to the main road. Aravis felt her heart drop; they had been so close! Two more streets and they would have been free.  

Xx Corin xX

Corin paced in front of the inn, forcing himself to wait. Zeepijeet was already out, scouting and searching, Grethlas would leave with them if needed as soon as they heard word from Arrosh. But where was the blasted fellow? It was sunset. Yes, early sunset, the sun just barely touching the end of the earth, but it was still sunset. Had something happened? Was it in relation to Aravis and Fesh? Or something else? Did he have three missing people to worry about now?  

No, he would wait until dark. It could be that Arrosh simply got held up or found them somewhere farther off and it was taking them longer to get back. Once it was dark, he would start out again with Grethlas. They would make a grid of the entire city, asking at every door if they needed to. By Aslan, he would go to the local authorities and give them every last coin that he had for them to turn the city upside down in order to find them.   

Cor was right. This mission was dangerous and Aravis, the queen of their nation, shouldn’t have come. What had they been thinking?  

The prince found himself wishing for Orran. The man would never have allowed for the women to go to the market. Or would have insisted that himself, and every able man would go with them. He wouldn’t have lost them like Corin had. Arrosh had done his job, he had kept potential danger away. But Corin had simply walked his way through the mass of people as though nothing could go wrong. What a fool he had been!  

“Master!” Arrosh’s voice rang out from down the street, behind him was Fesh and Aravis. Oh, thank Aslan!  

Corin set off at a run towards the group, barreling into Aravis with a hug, moving to Fesh and Arrosh as well. Shaking Arrosh by the shoulder, Corin grinned, “Well done, lad! Well done.”  

“Let us get inside.” Aravis said, “We can talk there.”  

Xx Aravis xX

Aravis felt the tension leave her shoulders as soon as the door shut. They were finally safe. She took a breath, counting out who was there with them. Corin, the sailor, Sir Morri, and the three of them. Zeep must be out like she said she would.  

“Now, tell me what happened,” Corin said, stretching his hands out, gesturing for the women to sit on the bed. “One moment I was with you. The next, I turned around and you were gone.”  

Aravis opened her mouth to speak, but Fesh put a hand to her mouth and said, “Oh! You’re bleeding!”  

She was looking at Arrosh, who had slipped over by the window to look out. No, not to look out. To get a better view of something under his shirt. He barely lifted the fabric up, his face a shade paler than his usual. Blood was on his upper back.  

“I know.” Was his answer, probing at his stomach and trying to hide the strain in his voice.

Chapter Text

Xx Aravis xX

Arrosh waved his free hand, fingertips darkened with blood, though he kept his face away from them, “It’s merely a scratch. I just need to keep it clean, and I’ll be fine, Tash willing.”   

At the mention of Tash, Aravis felt her stomach clench for a moment. If only he could know the truth of Aslan and not view him as some demon god.  

“No, your back.” Fesh pressed on, her brows knit together, “Between your shoulders.”  

Arrosh let the shirt down, seeming to think, “Probably when I caught that bit of post in the wall.” When Blue Vest smashed him against it?   

He rolled his shoulders, then shrugged, “It’s nothing much.” He all but said it through his teeth.  

“You should probably get that looked at, lad,” The sailor sucked his teeth some, “Infection is not a friend with whom to dance. Almost lost my hand to a small cut a few years back.”  

“I’ll go ask the inn keep for clean water and some bandages. They should have those.” Aravis said, she wasn’t going to let him just go without, “Some soap too.”  

“You should take coin.” Was his only answer, his eyes distant, “Otherwise, you’ll barely see clean water.”  

It didn’t take long, thank Aslan, to convince the inn keep’s wife to give her a pail of warm water, clean bandage cloth, and bit of soap water for two shekels. Aravis made her way back to their room. It was odd to be the one expected to get everything, or rather who had to be expected to get everything. Even when she had been disguised as a slave earlier in her life, she’d never had to act as a slave fully. The inn keep’s wife had even sniffed at her attitude, saying that the foreigners had spoiled her by letting her be a mistress. That had been when she had been trying to act more like a slave! Aravis wasn’t sure if Arrosh was right, and that people wouldn’t think such vile things if she was more subservient.  

Coming up the stairs to the room, she found Fesh, Sir Morri, and the sailor had left and were standing in the hall. Aravis frowned, the question on her lips.  

“He was startin’ to look real uncomfortable, ma’am.” The sailor answered before she could ask, “So Prince Corin offered to help, and we left for privacy's sake.”  

Aravis nodded her understanding and passed through the doorway. Corin and Arrosh were waiting at the window where the best lighting was. Once again, Aravis passed a thanks to the Lion; the window was facing the setting sun. She brought the slightly warm water near with the cloth, setting it on the ledge of the window.   

“Here you are.” She smiled warmly at the pair, before looking to Corin, “Will you need any help?”  

 
“I may,” Corin caught the pail before it crashed to the floor, “This ledge isn’t quite large enough to hold the buckets and we have no table here.” He glanced at the boy before them, his grin coming out in his voice, “Are you ready there, Rosh?” 

“As soon as you are,” Was the short answer from the boy. His arms were stiff as he kept his hands over the cut on his abdomen. He closed his eyes before moving slowly, wincing as he reached up to pull his shirt forward to be up on his neck, his hands covered in blood. Aravis couldn’t help the almost silent gasp that came to her, she would have covered her mouth if she hadn’t taken the pails from Corin. His back was pocked with scars and old, browning bruises. What had happened? These weren’t just whip scars. Some were too small and thin for that. Every muscle in his back was taunt with tension as he held the shirt in place.   

Corin’s eyes were hard as he set to work, deftly washing the wound, and applied a salve to it that he’d bought in the market earlier in the day. Thank Aslan, it was more a harsh scratch than a gash. “That should do it, lad. Not a deep one but try not to move your shoulders too much.” He grabbed the wash pail and cloth from Aravis, “Here’s this for the one in the front. I have a bit of bandaging too.  Just be careful when you let the shirt down as I put that salve on there.” With that he offered the pail to the boy.  

With care, Arrosh put his shirt down, before grabbing the cloth in the pail, “Thank you, sire.” He wouldn’t meet either one of their eyes but set to work cleaning his other wound, facing away from them. His shirt only lifted just high enough for him to do what was needed. There was an efficiency and knowledge to the movements that told her that this was far from his first time caring for a wound. He took the bandaging from her at the end, wrapping as much as he could around his midsection, leaving some for Sir Morri.  

“Arrosh,” Aravis wasn’t even sure what exactly it was that she wanted to ask. Or if she wanted to know the answer. Or if it was even a question. Just that she couldn’t just say nothing. But what was there to say? She knew her face held the shock and, yes, pity that welled in her with what she had seen. What had happened? Her own back gave a twinge in phantom memories of the day her own scars happened.  

“Thank you, your highness,” Arrosh kept his focus on cleaning, picking up the no longer needed pails, putting them by the door. He still wouldn’t look at her, his jaw working back and forth some, “Prince Corin.” He glanced at the door, lifting the cloth and dirty water pail, “Thank you for the help, I’m going to go return this now. The soap and water can be used for Sir Morri.” With that, he left the room, brushing past those waiting outside. Despite his obvious discomfort, his pace was casual, and she saw him try to give a small smile to Fesh as he passed.  

Aravis stepped forward, unable to keep the sorrow from her face before she once more brought herself under control. It was unseemly for the others to see her as such. She nodded for them to come in, “You’re alright now. He’ll be back soon.”  

Xx Arrosh xX

Arrosh felt the heat rising in his cheeks as he left the kitchens where he had left everything with the wife. Of course, they would see him. Etnos truly was having fun with him today. That was what he got for making requests without an offering. He had been asking for too much without even a token gift to the gods. He was lucky that it hadn’t been worse.  

Without thinking about it, he made his way to the roof of the house and eventually perched himself on the edge of the building. It wouldn’t be too much of a worry if he was away for a bit longer. He’d just say the wife had given him a chore to do or some such story. Maybe he would get the blankets. He just couldn’t go back yet.   

Memories seeped into the front of his mind, clawing their way forward with a vengeance, as he sat down on the hard ledge.   

The foreign belt with that metal piece on the end that had always been a favorite. The split reeds that grew not far away from the hut. The wind shifted around him at the thought, bringing that stiff smell of the seaside, another reminder of those reeds.  

You can’t stand in for her every time, boy.   

Curse you for one of the three slithering fools!  

Not all of them had been from his father. The overseers were never particularly kind to the lowest help forms either. Even his father, Kidrash, formerly a tarkaan of Calormen, had felt the end of a whip. Which in turn fueled the rage that had more often built within him. Who better than those stuck with him to let it out on?  

You made a fool of me. It’s your fault this happened.  

Arrosh closed his eyes, breathing in even as his heart cringed at the memory of Aravis’ gasp, the pause before the prince had started his work. The look on her face before he left. No one had ever seemed so sad and to pity him that much over such things. He knew it was a shame to be beaten as often as he had been. But it wasn’t so uncommon that any who knew looked at him like that. His friends understood in their own way, those he worked under didn’t care, and the others never saw. It must have been terribly shameful and wrong in the barbarian lands. Arrosh let out his breath, this would not change anything important. They would still be able to get Iliz. He just wished nothing had changed at all. But what if it had changed things?  

“There you are,” Came the prince’s jovial voice, completely discordant to the younger man’s line of thought, “When the inn keep said he hadn’t seen you leave, I figured that you’d probably come up here.”  

“I apologize, master,” Arrosh glanced at him, trying to match his tone, “I’m accustomed to being alone, besides two other’s that is. Thus, the party we have can feel quite large at times.” Maybe the man would take the hint. It was a terribly watery excuse, and Arrosh knew it.  

“Ah,” Corin nodded, as solemnly as a man of his temperament could, “Quite understandable.” With that, he sat down next to him, his legs swinging back and forth some.  

They sat there for a time in silence. Why was he here? “Master?” Arrosh looked at the man, an eyebrow quirked for a moment. If the man wanted a heart wrenching confession about what had happened to him at the hands of his father, then he wasn’t going to get it. It was bad enough that he had seen at all. Especially, if the barbarians viewed it as he suspected they did.  

Though, it may be better if they did understand that part. Pity. Why did it have to be so distasteful to cater to that? But besides pity, what else did he have? Pity and his estranged sister’s obligation. Now, he could only hope that they didn’t change their mind upon getting to Tashbaan and simply sail back home. His heart quickened at the thought. Maybe there was a way to skip going to Tashbaan first.  

“Yes?”  

“Why have you come?”  

“The sunset is rather nice, you see.” The older man smiled, gesturing to the blazing sun in all its glory, “And your sister asked me to check on you.”  

“I’m fine.” Arrosh huffed, blowing the hair out of his eyes, it was starting to get longer again. It always seemed to grow faster than he could keep up with. “Just didn’t feel like being in that little room for the rest of the evening with that many people.” Not with his sister, Aravis, looking at him like that. His life had been as normal as most others here, and he didn’t like how it had felt to be under her gaze.  

“You don’t have to worry about her prying, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Corin leaned on his knees, keeping his eyes on the sunset, “She already learned that doesn’t work with my brother. Had a real good row over that, they did.”  

“Your brother?” Arrosh looked at the prince some, the man only had one brother that he knew of, “The king?” During his time there, Archenland hadn’t seemed like the place to participate in such actions. But, then again, he knew well enough how much closed doors and a smiling face hid.  

“Before he was king, but yes.” Corin nodded, “Aravis had decided, a long while back, that she wanted to know more about Cor’s life before becoming a prince again.” He smirked a bit, his eyes distant, “He wasn’t keen, and she hadn’t learned to not to be quite so stubborn yet.”  

Before he was a prince again? Yes, he recalled now. The king had lived most of his childhood in Calormen. At least that’s what the stories said.  

“He grew up in a harsh fisherman’s hut.” Corin got up, the sky had started to become dark now, “You should ask him about his life here sometime when we get back. He’s nicer than he acts and you two might have more in common than you think.” He smiled some then stilled, seeming to think of something, “Arrosh,”  

Arrosh felt his stomach drop, he hated that tone people used before asking something difficult or saying an important thing. It was never anything pleasant. “Yes?” He managed to answer, trying to seem casual.  

Xx Corin xX

Corin didn’t really want to ask. But it was his duty as leader of the company to make sure his men were top notch. Observing only did so much. Sometimes you had to man up and ask.  

“How are you?” He turned fully towards the young man, even as the other nearly cringed away at the question, “About Sir Orran and everything that has been happening.”  

Arrosh immediately looked away over the city, lights from torches being lit popping up through the streets, his hands clenching and unclenching the ledge beneath him, “I will be fine.” He side-eyed Corin, “Why do you ask?”  

“Because Arrosh, a man dying in front of you is no easy thing.” Corin settled his foot on the ledge, still giving the boy his complete attention.  

Arrosh turned away, back towards the view, “Have you ever killed a man?”  

“Yes,” Corin answered frankly, “I’ve fought in battles.”  

“How is it for you? Or was it?” The boy’s throat bobbed up and down, his eyes weren’t taking in the scenery despite his attempts to look as though he were.  

“You didn’t kill him, Arrosh, you did him a service. I’m sorry that I didn’t have the presence of mind to do it for you.”  

The boy ran his hand through his hair, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, “Was he your friend?”  

“The best friend a man could hope for.” Corin felt his voice catch some, it was his turn to look away.  

The boy’s hand went to his shoulder lightly, “I’m sorry.” The hand dropped, “I know there are no words or proverbs that heal that kind of wound.”  

Corin wiped at his eyes, the sudden cropping up tears gone as quickly as they came, “Thank you, Arrosh.” He turned back towards the young man, “But I want you to understand. You did not kill him. You are not to blame. That horrible storm was. Orran is in Aslan’s country now.”  

Arrosh nodded, his eyes swimming with unshed tears, “I will try to tell myself that, sir.”  

Corin sighed, stood again, reintroduced his smile but kept it softer than usual, and said, “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. For now, though, let’s go eat. Grethlas went out and got some more bread. He even found some cheese!”  

Xx Arrosh xX

“Food would be good. As the proverbs say, ‘Bread and meat heals all but the most mortal wounds.’” Arrosh stood with the prince, blinking back the tears that had tried to come unbidden. What would the prince say if he knew it wasn’t for the fallen knight? Yes, he had been disturbed in the moment, even now the memory lingered in the back of his mind. But it wasn’t that which plagued him in the quiet moments.  

“If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”  

It was a kind gesture but by no means would he ever take the man up on the offer. Not only was he a prince, no matter whether it was of a barbarian country or not, but it was against every principle Arrosh had ever known. This interaction had been strange enough. You didn’t ask and you certainly didn’t tell. Even with his friends when he would go out to play, a split lip or a bruised face would never raise a question. In return, he did the same for them if needed. ‘A blind man sees no faults’ after all.  

Going down the stairs after the prince, Arrosh took in a steeling breath, bringing himself back to center, and quieting his thoughts as best he could. He wouldn’t think of what had been, he would ignore the rising worry over what would happen. It was like coming home to Iliz. Smile and pretend. Make her life just a little brighter than what she truly had. He could do that. Right?  

Xx Aravis xX

It turned out that Aravis hadn’t lost her ability to spin a tale. Over their humble meal of bread and cheese (the cheese much to Zeepijeet’s delight) when Corin came back to the topic of an explanation of what happened, the other two had looked to her to tell. To distract herself, she slipped into her story telling shoes.  

“Then, as the gap-toothed, would-be robber ran away in fear,” Aravis smiled, even those that had been there seemed to lean in. “Arrosh dispatched the last man, fighting for every inch. I feared for his life, yet he prevailed.” The young man mentioned, ducked his head at this, but Aravis continued, “Once the wretch was dealt with, we ran through the streets until we entered one of the main roads, and successfully came to the inn.”  

At this, everyone clapped. Sir Morri grinned and shook Arrosh’s hand. Fesh beamed at the two she had been with. Arrosh seemed to be fine now, the tension he had left the room with had not come back with him, and his slight smile had an air of genuineness about it.  

Corin nodded to all of this, a smile on his lips before taking a bite of food, saying around it, “And Arrosh, what of you? How did you happen upon them?”  

Arrosh’s eyes widened for a moment at being singled out before looking down at his lap, “I simply did as we discussed, your highness.” He glanced up for a moment, “I looked in the market for a time, I had thought I had seen Miss Fesh – or her hair rather, on the east side of the market. Thus, I decided I would go towards the edges of the market on that side. When I got there, I knew it was no place for strangers, much less women, and became worried.” He paused, seeming to try to find words, “I was unsure of which direction to go, but while I was determining in my mind, I heard a scream and saw the two run into the alleyways in the distance. I thought I had lost them by the time I had gotten to where I had seen them, especially when I heard another scream.” At this, Fesh ducked her head, though she still looked up at him through her lashes. Aravis had an inkling as to what that look might mean. Oblivious, her brother continued, “When I found them, I knew I couldn’t help from there. So, I decided to jump into the middle of it instead.” He shrugged as if to say, you know the rest .  

Corin raised some of his bread towards Arrosh, “To Arrosh, for his bravery.” Everyone raised their own slices, as the young man seemed as though he was going to melt into the floor. “And to Aravis and Fesh, for their bravery.” In turn, everyone raised their bread once more.  

Xx Corin xX

Corin settled in his mind as the group fell into a comfortable silence, each with their own food as well as thoughts. His conversation earlier with Arrosh had helped, in more ways than one. Yet it had also reminded him of the loss. At this moment, Orran would be sulking in the corner; his massive body probably would have taken up nearly a third of the room. Corin’s heart ached at the thought. Archenland had not been to war in a handful of years, and it had been some time since the prince had needed to confront the untimely loss of friends.  

The thought of Orran sparked another thought as his mind naturally shied away from the pain of the loss. “What boy doesn’t get in childhood scraps, sir? After childhood, I’ve tried my best to stay out of such matters...” Arrosh’s sheepish grin, giving no telltale sign of a lie. Corin mentally shook himself, he hadn’t been there when everything had happened, so he didn’t know how the boy had fought or how the other men had either. Obviously, Arrosh was resourceful, as not many of those intent on helping would have thought to surprise the bastards like that. But that didn’t mean anything else. “Look at him, sire, he clearly isn’t just some beggar.” The prince closed his eyes against such uncharitable thoughts. Arrosh had likely saved Aravis and Fesh. He wasn’t going to discredit that with unfounded suspicions.  

Chapter Text

Xx Fesh xX

Fesh had never been one to sleep well. Her mother, before she passed, had always said that even as a babe Fesh would stir at the fluttering of a moth. Now here she was, surrounded by the shuffling and breathing of six other people, in an unfamiliar place. The fact that she had nearly been robbed, or worse, earlier in the day probably hadn’t helped matters. In the beginning of the night, she had been so tired that it hadn’t taken anything to fall asleep. But something had woken her, and she couldn’t tell what it had been. The sounds of outside were faint from the second floor. Maybe a horse cart had passed on a late-night trek? Or the shriek of a bird? Did they have those sorts of birds here? Did they have horse carts that went on late night journeys for that matter? Could someone get through the window? Or it could be - 

This was no good. Thinking about how she lost sleep was not going to help her find it once again. Maybe in Archenland it had. Here there were too many unknowns for her mind to cling to. Too many recent mishaps had happened for her not to assume the worst. 

There it was! A sniffling sort of sound not far away. That had to be it. No wonder it had woken her. Was someone crying? Or sick? The girl couldn’t recall anyone seeming the sort of ill that would make for a running nose. 

Slowly she shifted herself, careful not to disturb the queen, and turned on her side towards the room. How unlikely was that? She was sleeping beside the queen of Archenland herself! What had her world come to? Looking out into the room, all the girl saw at first were the four sleeping figures on the floor. A cloud was over the moon and the flimsy shutters were drawn, making it difficult to see.  

There came again that snuffling sound that often was associated with crying. But it was as if it was in a different place now. Were there two? The cloud cover moved away from the moon and its light peaked through the shutters, revealing just enough for the girl to see grey faces. One of which had open eyes. 

In a panic, Fesh closed her eyes, her heart racing. She wasn’t sure why, but it felt like spying despite there being seven of them in a single room. Despite herself, she slowly opened her eyes some. 

The sniffing came again from the other side of the room, then from where the one who’s eyes were open. Prince Corin. His was more subdued and controlled, as though he were trying to be as quiet as possible. Long, slow – though hindered - breaths in the nose and out the mouth. His eyes were trained on the ceiling, the light of the moon making his face seem interminably sad with the shadows it cast even as tears glistened in its light. Fesh felt her heart clench, this was an incredibly private moment, and she had no business to be viewing it. 

Closing her eyes, she started to slowly turn back towards the wall but stopped when she heard the faintest of gasps. Someone sat up, breathing fast. She couldn’t see now that she was on her back; it sounded like it came from the same corner the other sniffling had come from. Who had she seen over there? 

The sounds of someone getting up and padding softly towards that side of the room came. 

“Arrosh?” Corin’s quiet, soft voice, “Are you quite alright?” 

“I will be.” The boy still seemed dazed from waking, a pain in his voice Fesh couldn’t describe. Then it changed, as he must have fully woken, to what could only be termed as mortification as he whispered, “I apologize, your majesty, did I wake you? I am truly sorry. I –“ 

“Peace, friend.” How could the person who had just been crying sound so comforting? “I was already awake.” 

There was a moment of silence, that Fesh almost wished she could see. It was broken by a quiet, but earnest question from the boy, “And you, your highness? Are you quite alright?” The phrase seemed new to his mouth though it was evident he understood it well enough. 

“I will be, Arrosh.” Corin answered softly, “As a leader, you must be strong for your men, but it is still important to grieve those you lost along the way. Lest it consume you later.” He breathed in and out once more, his airways were mostly clear now. There was a rustling sound as the prince must have settled beside the young man, “What are you grieving, friend?” 

Fesh squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was not supposed to be privy to this conversation. All around them were the sounds of sleeping people. Morri snored, Grethlas wheezed, Fesh could feel the deep breaths of sleep coming from Aravis, even Zeep chittered softly in her slumber. It was just the three of them. She would try to sleep. That’s what she would do. Turning to face the wall again, she tried and failed not to hear what was being said between the two men. 

Xx Arrosh xX

Arrosh glanced over at Fesh for a moment as she stirred but didn’t seem to wake. He and Corin were sitting against the wall, the moonlight casting patterns of light and shadow into the room. 

He hadn't been grieving. Not rightfully so. Ever since… what happened, he had been cursed with nightmares. Blood and the cries of his sister. Just out of reach, just out of sight. Never finding her. Following a trail of blood. Only to find a reflection at the end. He was drenched in blood. So many different scenes. All the same. He was never going to find her. He would always be cursed. 

“I,” He started but stopped, unsure of how to respond. He couldn’t pretend that it was nothing - the man would never believe him. Even if only a few tears had escaped, the way he’d woken up was enough. Finally, he settled on, “I was not grieving. Etnos has simply stolen my dreams from Zardinah’s sister to toy with.” The shame of being seen weeping or even waking over a dream was hot on his neck as it crept up his cheeks. The prince likely thought him worse than a child afraid of an unpleasant dream. 

He had hoped the dreams would leave him. On the ships, and even in Anvard, they had been but a whisper. His time of grace was up it seemed. This latest one had been determined to make up for time lost. Even now it echoed in his mind. 

Iliz, red dripping from the ends of her fingers, leaving marks on his arms as she was pried away.   

Unable to lift his arms, to say anything. Her eyes pleading with him to even just say a goodbye.  

He couldn’t.  

His father’s laugh, proclaiming a curse.  

Red on the wall, sealing the curse.  

“I know someone who used to have those,” The tone Corin used was one of understanding, but it made Arrosh want to prickle. The man probably thought he was remembering some unfortunate part of his life. Was he wrong? No. But it wasn’t the supposed unfortunate parts that the prince knew of with which his dreams tormented him these days.  

“They went away after a time. Said one of the palace cats helped him sleep.” 

“Maybe I’ll grab the next one I see. It may not have to be from a palace.” Arrosh kept his tone light, though it was likely his face said another story. He wanted to be alone. That awful feeling in his chest was twisting and morphing, demanding to be spilled out into the world. Anger, hurt, pain, fear, sadness, all of it as one mass churning. How would he release it this time? To make it leave him? Would it ever? Probably not. He was his father’s son, and the man had died full to the brim with anger. 

“It might be worth a try, you never know.” The prince placed a hand on his shoulder, in that firm way of his, stubbornly smiling despite the evident swelling around his eyes. 

His hand coming down hard, grabbing, pinching, forcing him towards an inevitable punishment. A fist to the gut, his ears being boxed, the belt being grabbed. One could never know which it would be.  

Arrosh set his teeth against the urge to twitch away, to snarl at the man, to duck his head, something, anything. Nearly everything in him screaming for the opportunity to lash out in some way. Corin already knew too much about him, and he didn’t need to know more. But couldn’t he find a different thing to do? It always put him on edge, waiting for something unpleasant to happen.  

Maybe he did need a cat after all. Not the one from the market. That one was likely more prone to eat him in his sleep than give comfort. 

“I just worry for my sister,” He shrugged beneath the hand, glancing over towards the sleeping forms on the bed, “Iliz.” Not that there had truly been any question on who he was speaking of. 

“Have faith, friend. Aslan provide; you will be seeing her in nigh but a few days.” The hand on his shoulder gave a final squeeze, making the boy shut his eyes and lean his head against the wall. The prince would merely think it was from worry over his sister. Why did it not matter how many times the man did it, that Arrosh still hated it? He knew it wouldn’t end in pain. So why did his heart keep racing in fear with each time? 

In his mind’s eye, he saw again the well-meaning smile on the man’s face. A contrast to the redness and swelling around his eyes. Corin had just been grieving the loss of friends, one in particular whom Arrosh had helped kill. A close friend. Yet he was here, putting that aside, because someone he didn’t know had a nightmare. Someone he chose to call friend. What kind of person was this? 

A far, far better one than him. 

...

The morning sun greeted the motley group, and they were off down the road once again before noon. Most of what they needed had been bought the day previously and they were able to buy from the inn keep’s wife, who turned out to be nicer upon closer acquaintance, enough food to provide for a small midday meal. If all went well, this would be their last day of travel. Arrosh had said a short prayer, leaving a small piece of dried meat by the little Azaroth altar by the door, that it would be by early that evening when they would reach Azro-balda. 

“I can’t believe we’re only another day away.” Fesh grinned up at him, her face tinted pink from the sun even as they sheltered under one of the few trees in the area.  

The party had stopped for the midday meal and were nearing the end of the break. Arrosh had finished his bread soon after receiving it, anxious to be back on the road. The others hadn’t been nearly as inclined. Aravis and Corin consulted quietly on the other side of the shade with their food, Zeepijeet was laid back against the root of the tree not far from where Sir Morri slept, and Grethlas ate with a distant, tired look. 

Arrosh smiled back at her, distracting himself from his impatience. Fesh was a kindly person - despite all that he’d heard about the barbarians. Her head was covered once again with some of the cloth that hadn’t been able to be traded to protect her pale skin from burning in the sun, though her pretty, bright yellow hair still stubbornly peaked out around the edges. When she uncovered it before coming to a town, it often reflected the light, seeming like gold. “I don’t know, surely, I can believe it. I’ve felt every day we’ve walked.” He said, looking towards the road as a few travelers passed by. 

The young woman shook her head, “It’s felt like an eternity and part of me wondered if we’d never stop walking.” She brushed some of the hair behind her ear, before looking at him, “I never thanked you for stopping the robbers. I’m sorry that I didn’t. I just got so distracted with everything else that was going on.” Glancing at his abdomen then about where his back wound would be, she asked, “How are your wounds?” 

“Healing, I’m sure.” He shrugged out of habit before wincing some at the action, “They only happened yesterday after all.” Thankfully, the one between his shoulders had become rather easy to ignore if he was expecting it. Corin had said the cut wasn’t too deep, so he should be fine. 

“That is a good point.” She agreed, again looking at him, she said, “I do hope they heal well.” Her eyes were a mix of green and blue, swirling together so he couldn’t quite tell which color was the dominant one. 

“Thank you.” He gave her a bit of a smile, forcing himself to look away. 

Corin stood, signaling the end of their rest. With small groans and mutterings, the group began on their way once more. 

Aravis came up beside them, Grethlas being the one to take the back this time; and smiled over at Arrosh. A pit settled in his stomach at the unspoken conversation that he knew she would want to have. But all she said was, “It will be lovely when we get there. After hearing so much about Iliz, I want so badly to meet her.” 

“So long as Azaroth keeps us in his right hand, you’ll get to do that soon.” And he would finally see his sister. He allowed himself a real smile, ignoring the slight wince from the queen at the mention of Azaroth. After all of that had happened, there was still hope. The slaver had moved closer to Tashbaan, which was what he often did when allowing the child slaves to age. Likely he would still have her and, if someone was looking for a child specifically, he should be willing to part with her. 

In the night, he had come up with a way to earn coin, that could possibly keep them from having to go to Tashbaan first. Now that he hadn’t seen one etching, they could go to Azro-Balda before going to Tashbaan. They would have to go through it or around it to get to Tashbaan anyways. The wounds would hinder matters, but not so badly that he couldn’t do what was necessary.  

He wanted to trust his sister and Corin to come back for Iliz but something kept urging him to get to Azro-Balda before Tashbaan. What if they changed their minds? Or if not that, that they were too late, and the slaver had sold her? 

Fesh went forwards to speak with her brother and Corin, who had taken up the head of the party, and part of Arrosh wished she hadn’t. If only to keep a cushion between himself and Aravis. Even as he thought it, a silence fell between them. Yet, his older sister didn’t walk away. 

“How are your wounds?” She managed after a small time. Even though the woman seemed somewhat uncomfortable, her presence was as queenly as ever. 

“Still a little sore, but I presume they’re healing.” Arrosh answered once again. What else was he supposed to say when it had happened yesterday? What was he supposed to say after that? She wasn’t injured so he couldn’t ask the same question back to her. He wished he could wander away like Fesh and pretend he wanted to talk to someone else. But he couldn’t rightly do that. Not after she had come over to walk with him. 

Without realizing it, he allowed them to sink back into silence. It felt as if there was a boulder between them, invisible but there all the same. Creating distance. Distance he couldn’t afford to have. The closer he was to her, the more secure Iliz’s future was. His heart cringed at the thought. He didn’t want to have to think like that. But what choice did he have? 

Yet, glancing at her, he could tell that she was attempting to piece together what she was going to say. Or maybe how she wanted to say it. Unfortunately, he had a pretty good guess as to what it was. 

Xx Aravis xX

“Arrosh,” Aravis started, unable to keep the tone out of her voice that gave away what it was she wanted to talk about. 

“Aravis,” Her name was almost a sigh coming from him, his eyes set forward. He didn’t want to talk about it. She couldn’t blame him, Cor hadn’t for a long time before he was willing to tell her about what happened to him under the fisherman’s hand. But she had to at least let her brother know that she was there for him.  

“Arrosh,” The queen took a breath before continuing, “Please, don’t feel like you have need to explain anything or tell of it. I,” She paused, trying to think of the right words to say, “I won’t say I know what happened or that I understand. But, if you would like, I’m here to listen.” 

While the boy didn’t look at her during this time, she saw the surprise flit across his face before glancing at her. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I told you before, Aravis. Kidrash, our father, became a bitter man after his wife’s death.” 

Her heart sank down slowly to the ground, cracking open as it hit. As a girl, she had never truly been close with her father. Not many people were among the nobility of Calormen. But she had always respected him; loved him in a way. Even when she had run away, it was his new wife whom she had blamed. Now to hear that the same man had treated his own son, her brother, this way? She had constructed in her mind so carefully the happy family, far away, and content in their life without her. How terribly, terribly wrong she had been. 

“What do you want to know?” Arrosh asked, there was a sadness in his eyes that made him seem as though he were a thousand years old and so young all at once. He was asking, but she wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer. 

“I -” She started, “I don’t know, Arrosh,” She worked the cloth of her head covering between her fingers, “I am truly sorry. I never could have imagined that he would turn into such a man.” A thought occurred to her, “Did, did he do any of - that to Iliz?” 

The boy shook his head quickly, “No. He loved her – or at least I had thought he did until recently.” He glanced at her, taking in her distress, “It’s not as bad as it looks. I just scar more easily than most. I could scrape my arm on a rock and it would likely scar.” 

“He whipped you?” 

“Yes.” 

“But -” 

“He didn’t own a whip. But that didn’t stop him from using what he had.” Arrosh shrugged, wincing for a moment, his words had started to become clipped, “It is not something I prefer to talk about, Aravis. It happened and I do my best not to think of it. There’s no need to dwell on the past.” He seemed like he wanted to say more but he pressed his lips tight together. 

Aravis put her hand on his arm but dropped it when she felt him tense at the action, “I’m sorry, Arrosh. I don’t mean to cause you pain. Thank you for telling me.” Her heart ached for him. For Iliz, who had to grow up in such a home. Not even a home. She couldn’t erase the past, but the least she could do was help them in their future. 

Her brother managed a grin at her and looped his arm over her shoulders, “No matter. Now, tell me of Archenland. What kind of place is it? Is the weather there better than that of Calormen?” 

Xx Corin xX

It was early afternoon when they arrived at the town of Azro-balda. There were no gates or walls to this town but it was surrounded by fields, and slowly, as they continued on down the main road, it was shaping into that of a city. More people, different animals, a few shops here and there. It probably wouldn’t be much further, and they would find themselves in the town proper. If they went straight through, then they could make it to Tashbaan before late evening. They would have to get an inn or lodgings before trying to find the ambassador. It wouldn’t due to be wandering the city at night. There had been enough scrapes in this adventure, thank you very much. 

“Master?” Arrosh was at Corin’s elbow, his head bowed slightly. Evidently the boy hadn’t fully taken off his subservient habits. Around most of the others, and even Corin himself in some moments, he had loosened some and spoke as needed. It wasn’t surprising, however, that he had not moved on entirely. Such matters took time. As well as the fact that there was a certain respect that one gave to those in a higher command than oneself. As brother to the queen, the young man would be given a considerable amount of leeway. 

“You don’t have to call me master, Rosh.” Corin said, looking around he confirmed there was no one particularly close. “Not unless anyone is near, I suppose.” 

The young man ignored the comment, “I have a suggestion, mas – sire.” 

“What is it? I’m all ears.” Corin kept his tone light, not wanting to make Arrosh less keen on telling him. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but want to treat the boy in a softer manner. Between the scars as well as seeing the fear and pain in his eyes from the nightmare, it happened without meaning to. Corin knew it wouldn’t be appreciated; the first half of their conversation on the roof had been enough to tell him that. His and Aravis’ reaction hadn’t likely been appreciated either. It just... well, whippings weren’t something that was done in the courts of Anvard – or at the least something that was thought of with contempt towards the man who did such things. If it was discovered, the man would be cast out, ostracized. He knew it happened, but that didn’t stop the wrongness of it. Corin wasn’t entirely certain what had happened to the boy as he hadn’t seemed to want to share, but knowing what he did about Calormen, Corin had a strong notion as to what had happened.  

“We don’t have enough coin with which to purchase a slave – even a young girl.” Arrosh started, pulling Corin away from his ruminations, “But it will be another two or three days before we get back here and it may be more beneficial to earn some coin here. Then to try in the morning to get to Iliz.” Arrosh glanced up at Corin, hope and fear warring on his face. 

“I don’t think that we can earn money that quickly, Rosh.” Corin answered gently, he’d had an idea that being so close to the little girl would make his young friend impatient. Going back and forth to the city would be an inconvenience but not impossible. If there was a way to earn the money instead of having to sneak into Trunin’s estate to avoid notice from any high ranking Calormenes and then go back once again to Tashbaan to get a ship home would be preferred. The less time they spent in Tashbaan, the better. 

“I have a way,” Arrosh answered, “But I will need you to trust me.” 

Chapter Text

Xx Corin xX

Corin distinctly did not like the looks of the man before him. He was a seedy fellow who seemed as though he were more likely to bludgeon you than pay you. Despite his reservations, the prince steeled himself, pushing Arrosh forward. After securing lodgings for the night, Arrosh had led the two of them through the streets. After asking a couple questions to a passerby in the Calormene tongue, they came to a tall, nondescript building with two doors. One of which had an X carved onto the front. To this they had gone and here they stood just on the other side of aforementioned door.  

The young man had said he needed to trust him. It was a game, you earned money. If he lost, they wouldn’t lose enough coin to be unable to make the trip to Tashbaan. If he won, they could get Iliz before going to Tashbaan. At least, that’s what he said. It was a bit of a gamble but a safe one, nonetheless. The most important thing they would lose was time. But it was impossible to say whether that made a difference or not anyways.  

The man looked Arrosh over, a strange, greedy look in his eye. As for the young man, he kept his head level, a wide stance, and kept his eyes on the far wall. The dealer asked him something in the native tongue, Arrosh answered, lifting his sleeve on his left arm just high enough to reveal an X above his wrist. Aslan’s mane, what was going on?  

The beady eyed man looked back to Corin, “Your boy here wins, you get twenty-six crescents. If he goes for a short play, another fifteen. Entry fee is seven.” Arrosh nodded almost imperceptibly at Corin. Being a foreigner, they wouldn’t expect him to haggle. With the twenty-six crescents won that would give them twenty-nine crescents total when all was said and done. Whatever the short play was, Arrosh was going to have to win that as well or become a master in the art of bargaining with a slaver. It was fortunate that Tashbaan truly was so close. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to afford something like this.  

Corin gave a curt nod, doing his best to appear aloof, “So long as I and my party get a good view.”  

“Indeed,” Was all the man said before gesturing to another door, “Your man will prepare there. The usual rules. Door on the other side to enter ring.” Ring? The man continued, speaking rapidly, “You and party enter from door beside this one. No seats. Standing only without further payment.” With that, he put his hand out, “Payment now. Game at three bells. Arrive before.”  

Corin made a point not to look at Arrosh. Instead paying the man what was required, took the three, blue, dirty strips of cloth handed to him, and they left.   

They’d only gotten one street away when Corin stopped and grabbed Arrosh by the arm, steering them to a quieter spot by a wall, “Just what have you gotten us into, Arrosh? I know you want your sister, but we cannot afford getting locked up for coin!”  

A flash of anger passed over the young man’s features before it was smothered as Arrosh took a breath, answering as he pulled his arm out of Corin’s grip, “You need not worry, master, the game is perfectly legal if you are registered. I am, which is the brand on my wrist.” He gestured at his left arm, “It’s just a way for people to try earning money and the host to earn more from the audience. My father registered me when I was twelve, I know the game well.” He started back towards the inn, “What is illegal is betting outside of the authorized vendors. I wouldn’t recommend doing it at all.” Glancing at the sky, he said, “We have nearly two hours, sir.”  

Corin pursed his lips but followed. He would trust the boy. Even if this town, and particular people in it, seemed far from trustworthy.  

Xx Aravis xX

Two hours later brought Corin, Aravis, Grethlas, and Arrosh to the doors, the sun a low ball in the sky. It being early had not stopped a small flow of people already going through, stopped by a large, gruff looking man. Only having three tickets, it had been decided that Aravis and Grethlas would accompany Corin. The siblings would stay behind, Zeep would be scouting the town and watching the area they were to make sure no trouble was stirring. Hopefully, staying at the inn would allow Sir Morri enough rest to heal better. His leg seemed to be becoming infected. Aravis bit her lip some at the thought. The young knight had felt rather feverish when they had left. Rest would help. Rest and water. It would have to.  

Around them were people from nearly every walk in life. Wealthy merchants, laborers, Aravis could’ve sworn she had seen a tarkaan enter as well. Every person or group was stopped at the door, either paying coin or giving their slips of cloth. What sort of game was this?   

As they got to the doors, Arrosh looked to them, “This is where we part ways.” He gave them a nod, “I’ll see you soon. Likely, since we’re new, I will be first. The better, more seasoned people are saved for last.” Glancing at Aravis, he tried once more to put her off, “While this is legal, it’s not generally a place for women.” When Aravis simply shook her head, he turned and left through the door.  

“Crescent!” The man at the door barked, his hand held out in demand. Corin in answer handed him the three slips of cloth, to which the man glanced over and nodded, pointing to them the way through. The room everyone had been entering seemed to merely be a through way, opening to a large area that Aravis was surprised fit as close to the center of the city as it was. The space was an open courtyard, high walls rising around them, torches mounted on the walls against the coming darkness, and a circle, filled with loose sand, that was nearly fifteen paces across which had been roped off in the center with several torches around it as well. In three corners of the courtyard were what looked like booths, the entrance being in the fourth corner. Two seemed to be selling food, another drink, and she couldn’t tell what the last one was. Above, jutting out of the wall were small balconies from which a few of the more wealthy sat, a guard at the base of the stone steps that lead to them. What was this place?   

People who had already come in had started to fill in around the circle, others going to the unknown vendor. Corin led them to the edge of the roping, his face looking grim. Grethlas took up a spot beside and slightly behind her, his head moving back and forth, taking in everyone around. Evidently, they were not going to risk anything going awry again.  

Aravis huffed slightly, annoyed that she still wasn’t sure what this place was. The circle reminded her of the squared off section they had for training bouts - but these were far from training grounds. They’d tried to ask Arrosh what exactly the game was, but he didn’t seem to understand. When he tried to explain, they had only gotten more confused.  

It’s a game. Three rounds. Different rules for each. First, no arms. Second, only hand and elbows. Third, no strikes.  

What had her brother gotten them into?  

Xx Arrosh xX

Arrosh stretched, warming his muscles for what he knew would be difficulties. It had been months since he had played the game. No practicing, no training in that time. Wounded.  

It would be harsh but there was still a chance he could win something. The sense of urgency had heightened since the day before, writhing in his stomach and tightening around his throat at the thought. Something told him that if they went to Tashbaan first they wouldn’t get to her in time. That maybe they were already too late. That maybe the queen would change her mind, the prince agreeing, and they would sail away. That Iliz wouldn’t be there when they got back. This way, there was still a chance. If he failed, then it would be nearly the same than as if he had never tried.  

What was a game like this viewed like in the barbarian lands? The thought gave him pause. Here, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Yes, the people who often ran it were not the savoriest of types and men were the general frequenters. But, from what Arrosh had heard in the past, it wasn’t uncommon for the wealthy of the land to host more ‘civilized’ versions. Mayhaps this wouldn’t be an issue to them. His stomach clenched, but what if it was? Aravis hating him would not help his cause. Or the prince for that matter. He was the one in charge of the venture after all.

Taking a breath, the young man put these thoughts aside. He hadn’t wanted to do this. But there was no going back. Prince Corin had already been convinced, and the group was likely already inside. He couldn’t think of any other way to get the crescents sooner – short of committing a crime. There was nothing to be done. He had to focus on the game. If it got his sister back, then it was worth it.  

This would hurt. But losing wasn’t an option.  

Xx Corin xX

Corin grit his teeth as a man, so small he must have been part dwarf, with an oversized turban ran out a door, bounded into the ring, and shouted in a voice that rang easily over the churning crowd, “Men and women, young and old, are you prepared for the evening’s festivities?” At this, three bells struck and the crowd erupted into a cheer that was nearing bloodthirst. Arrosh may call it a game all he wanted, but Corin had a strong notion as to what this really was.  

The sun had fully set, leaving the sky a hue of deepening blue as torches flared against the encroaching darkness. Inside the ring the man spun around, shouting, “Bring forth our first contestants!”  

“What is this place?” Aravis hissed, gripping Corin’s forearm. Now that it was dark, she seemed far less keen on participating and he didn't blame her one bit. He was tempted to escort her out, but he knew his sister-in-law's pride well. She would never allow it, no matter how much he tried.

“We’re in a shadows den.” Corin ground out, “I guess it goes with my character.” The only times he had frequented something like this was when he had been bored and joined a city’s policing force in routing one out. Even during his teenage, admittedly rather rebellious years, he hadn’t gone so far.  

Another cheer went up and the group turned to see a way being cleared for two men. Their trousers rolled short to the calf and nothing besides arm wrappings at their forearms and upper arms above. The first was a tall, lithe man, a short beard which had been dyed a dark red, his arm wrappings matching. He flashed a feral grin, his teeth glinting in the torchlight. As he got to the edge of the ring, he raised his arms, soaking in the praise from the onlookers, before flipping into the ring.  

The second wasn’t far behind him, silent and brooding. If a glance could scorch, Arrosh’s eyes would have ignited the very stones of the courtyard. He had taken his head covering cloth, using the warm yellow cloth for the arm wraps and one low around his waist where his wound must have been. In the shifting light he was nearly as intimidating as the first, the scars running across his body making him look more of a mystery than a pity. Upon getting to the edge of the ring, he stopped and stared out across the crowd, before entering. Corin would have sworn he heard a few girlish squeals if it hadn’t been for the noise of the crowd.  

“Now, for the first of tonight’s entertainment,” The showman called out, pointing at the first man and then the second, “We have two newcomers! Blood Beard, hailing from Taashbaan, and The Stone, from Zalindreh!” Corin smirked at the name, seeing Arrosh frown some before returning to his harsh gaze. Evidently, he hadn’t chosen his stage name.  

As the cheering continued, the two men went to either end of the ring and the little man stayed in the middle. He spun around, encouraging the crowd, “Traditional rules, three rounds! First round in three, two,” He started towards the borders of the arena and flipped out over the ropes, raising his hands above his head, “One!”  

Corin sighed, waiting for them to approach and begin fighting. Aravis kept a hold of his arm, her face set like granite. If Corin had known that this had been what Arrosh had been talking about he would have at the least not brought Aravis. How could the lad have seemed so confused when they didn’t know what he was talking about? Did he think this was common?  

As the men approached, neither brought their hands up. Corin frowned, what was this? Each man kept his hands to his sides, slightly behind his hips. As Blood Beard got closer, he began a series of showy kicks that sent many people screaming their approval. All of this with his hands practically behind his back.  

Arrosh leaned back just enough to avoid a kick to the face, looking almost bored. As the foot passed his nose, his own foot shot out towards the planted foot. The other man just barely caught himself with his kicking foot, his back to Arrosh. Neither had moved their arms.  

Arrosh moved forward with his sweeping foot, his body checking against his opponent’s, causing the man to stumble. The crowd roared once more in response.  

Blood Beard growled at the younger man, lashing out with a round house, low body kick. Corin could have sworn he saw the glimmer of a smile from Arrosh. As the leg came towards him, the younger man advanced a pace, brought his leg on the same side around, shifting away some to absorb a bit of the blow as it hit, and wrapped his own leg around his opponent’s kicking leg, effectively trapping the kicking leg, his foot against the man's hip. Arrosh continued the rotation, extending his leg into a kick to the hip that shucked his opponent away as he extracted his leg, planted it, and used the other one to give a vicious kick to the man’s rear end. The man stubbornly did not reach out with his hands and met the sandy ground with his face. His legs were straight, only his feet and face touching the ground. Corin almost let out a yell with the crowd, bringing his free hand up to bite his knuckle. What were the blasted rules of this so-called game?  

Before the man could recover, the Arrosh sent another kick to the back of his opponent’s knee. As was the tendency when a knee is attacked, it buckled and touched the sand. Blood Beard let out a roar as the people cheered and the showman bounded back into the ring.  

“We have a winner!” The announcer gestured to Arrosh, pulling a small instrument that looked similar to a ram’s horn, and blew loudly. Blood Beard had picked himself up from the ground, staring daggers at Arrosh. The boy had not only beat him but completely humiliated him in the process.  

Corin averted his focus to ensure Aravis was still safely next to him. She was, seeing him looking she reached and grabbed his arm again. Her face a mask of worry. When she was younger, she had often learned different things that were often considered a men’s sport. Corin had even taught her a little bit of boxing in their teens. But she had evidently never been exposed to something like this. Aslan’s teeth, Corin himself was beginning to realize he hadn’t the slightest clue what was happening either.  

Xx Arrosh xX

Arrosh stretched his neck some, bouncing on his toes as he waited for the next round. That had been the easy round. Kicks, and practicing that one move for hours with his friend Umab, had always come more naturally to him. This next one was going to hurt. The wound in his shoulder was not going to help matters.  

If he won this, he wouldn’t have to go to the third round. But, if he won, then he wouldn’t get the chance for the short play. He could if he won or lost the third round. Was it worth the risk?  

The horn sounded over the noise of the crowd again and Arrosh turned back towards the inside of the ring. He kept his face just as it had been as before, ignoring the little man’s dramatic announcement of the match starting. His opponent snarled, the anger at his defeat coming off him like heat off a dark rock that had been in the sun all day. Maybe, Arrosh thought ruefully, it would have been better not to humiliate a man like this. Off to the side of the ring, two judges sat, ready to inspect the coming match. They would count the points to determine the winner. Unless someone got knocked down or out. Then the winner was immediate.  

The announcer left the ring, and Blood Beard wasted no time in coming forward, hands raised by his face, hands cupped to grab. Arrosh mirrored him, circling.  

“Cowardice suits you, little boy.” The man sneered and shot out, his left hand reaching for the back of Arrosh’s neck. Arrosh twisted away, getting behind the taller man, serving him a harsh blow with an elbow just below the ribs to the side. His opponent’s back spasmed as he muffled a groan. Spinning around, the man grabbed Arrosh by the shoulder with one hand. If he had been mad before, he was furious now.   

As he’d feared, his opponent’s grip was fierce. The blow to his other shoulder with the elbow hurt like anything as the sheer force of the larger man kept him down. Arrosh just managed to work his way up, straightening his body and getting control of the man’s head behind the neck, breaking him down to deliver an elbow strike to the back of his opponent’s head.  

Pain exploded and spasmed across his middle, his wound screaming as the man landed blow after blow, holding him there to keep him from pushing away.  

Xx Aravis xX

Arrosh bent over, his face a grimace of pain as Blood Beard struck again and again to his wounded middle with his elbow. Aravis felt sure she would hear something from him if it wasn’t for the blasted noise of the crowd.  

Next to her even Grethlas was yelling, giving Arrosh encouragement, telling him to get out of there. She grit her teeth, clutching Corin’s shirt sleeve to ground herself, as tears threatened to spill over. She wasn’t unfamiliar with sparring, Corin, and even Cor, had done it often enough that she knew it well. She herself was acquainted with swords and some boxing. But this was different, darker. She didn’t know the rules and felt sure that her brother was going to be irreparably hurt from this.  

Finally, her brother struggled away, only for another blow to come from his straightening opponent to the side of the neck. Aravis put her hand to her mouth, stifling a cry. The boy stumbled, looking dazed, as another elbow strike, low and to the chest landed him on the sand. People went wild as the horn blew once more, Arrosh stayed for a moment, hunching over his sides and clutching his chest, before getting up. His gaze was as harsh as ever, las though he hadn’t just been brutally beaten.  

The announcer shouted something that Aravis didn’t care to listen to. She could only keep her eyes on her brother as he stretched while his opponent lauded his victory. Turning towards them, he caught sight of the group and came up to them at the edge of the roped off section.  

“Are you hurt?” Corin asked, his brow furrowed. Aravis couldn’t get anything out, waiting for his answer.  

Arrosh nodded, his breathing evening out, “Nothing more than before, master. The cuts may have reopened but nothing to be worried about.”  

“Can you win the next round?”  

Arrosh flashed him a confident grin, “Almost as easily as I lost this one.” Had he meant to lose? Why?  

“And whatever the short play is?” Corin had put his soldier and commander cloak on, unable to play the part of a seedy shadows merchant.  

Again, Arrosh nodded, “That one doesn’t need to be won, but I will either way.” He was drenched in sweat, the wrap around his middle was tinged with blood and dark with sweat.  

Aravis held her breath as another horn blast came and Arrosh turned back to the ring. What would this one be?  

Xx Corin xX

Corin watched as the two opponents approached each other, stances low and bladed, knees bent. Arrosh had said that the last round was no strikes. Wrestling maybe? They had that in Archenland, though Corin had never been particularly interested in it. His anger at Arrosh was subsiding now, but that didn’t mean he was going to let this go. He and that boy were going to have a talk as soon as this was over. Didn’t know how to fight? Bullocks and nonsense.  

The two had interlocked, hands grabbing for purchase on the other. This being the last round made a sort of sense as both would be slick with sweat from the previous bouts. Blood Beard dove for Arrosh’s leading leg, picking it up between his own legs with his head against the inside of Arrosh’s leg. Before he could do more, Arrosh latched his near arm around the man’s far shoulder and launched himself to the ground, his captured leg going up over his head – with his opponent still attatched. As Arrosh rolled through, Blood Beard landed with an ‘oof’ on his back, letting go of the leg to scramble towards the young man. It was too late, Arrosh was already on top of him, flattening him out onto his back. This wasn’t wrestling, otherwise the match would have been called by now.  

The man below thrashed, working his way to his side, using his forearms to keep Arrosh away, sand clinging to him. Corin leaned forward some, interested despite himself. As soon as the man got to his side, Arrosh popped up some, hooked one leg between the other man’s own legs, grabbed around his opponent’s chest from the back side with a cross grab, and rolled him so that Arrosh was underneath him. Underneath him? He was holding the man on top of him. By the Lion’s mane, what was this game?  

They struggled for a time, Blood Beard trying to get Arrosh away from him and Arrosh trying to do something. Corin wasn’t sure. Eventually, the opponent rolled to his knees, Arrosh still connected to his back, almost like a child getting a ride from an adult. His face was stern with concentration, blood and sand encrusting his back, quite unlike a child in those situations. Slowly, the man started to stand up and Arrosh’s arm managed to slip around his opponent’s neck, his legs wrapped about the man’s middle. The man swayed a bit, clutching onto Arrosh’s arm. But the arm was tight around his neck now, Arrosh holding onto his own curled bicep. Blood Beard let out a gurgled yell, his face turning red. Yet Arrosh didn’t let go, holding firm.   

A moment later, the man’s eyes rolled back, his muscles went loose, and he started to fall backwards. Arrosh let his legs down so as not to get crushed, letting go of the hold around the man’s neck, and guided the man a bit roughly to the ground.   

As soon as he hit the sand, a wiry man jumped into the ring, lifting the opponent’s legs, shaking them until he came to. At this, the horn blasted again and Arrosh was declared the winner by the announcer. Corin kept himself steeled for the worst. This was the first part, they still had to get through whatever was next.  

Xx Fesh xX

The room was small and cramped, old dirt still lingering in the corners, and a stale smell that told the maid that the room hadn’t been aired out in quite some time. Either this was a place that didn’t get many visitors or whoever owned it simply didn’t care. How they were going to fit all of them in there for the night was something she wasn’t sure of. The stables – or rather the one empty horse stall - had been offered but the prince hadn’t seemed to like the idea after what had happened in the last city they had come to.  

Mayhaps that was why her heart had begun fluttering at the faintest sound coming from outside the door or window, making her grip on the knife tighten. Being on the first - and only floor gave far less illusions of safety than the second floor had in the previous inn.  

Morri, her brother, was fitfully sleeping on the bed. They had been able to get clean water, and she had been making him drink regularly, but for now she was letting him rest. Doing so had let her mind wander, jumping at the twitch of a shadow.  

She knew she could open the shutters of the window, but it was evening now and there was only the one floor to the small inn. She wasn’t even sure if it was an inn or more of a spare room the owner rented out at times.  

Morri stirred, a grimace on his face as his leg and arm shifted. She was reminded of the time he’d broken his finger as a child after doing some foolish thing or another. He’d hid it for three days before their father had found out and had to reset it. Even now, in his waking moments, he hid the pain well. But sleep didn’t often allow for such walls.   

Her heart ached. He was all she had left. After the sickness taking mother last year and father dying in a battle three years ago, the two siblings had no family left to them. Mother had been able to take a widow’s sum and had used it to secure lodgings for the two years she had left. Her brother had been able to continue his knight training under the kindness of the king and Prince Corin, in honor of their fallen father, earning enough as a squire that between the two of them they could easily support themselves. With his new knighthood, he would receive more and, after a battle with his loyalty proven, would be given a small piece of land.  

He woke some and gave her a small smile as she started to bring the cup of water towards him, “You stowing away on that ship is working out far better than I thought it would.” He was only slightly feverish and his wound had been freshly dressed again.

“If you weren’t so injured right now, I would smack you.” Fesh rolled her eyes, handing him the drink to his good arm. “Really, what we’re you thinking getting so roughed up? It was just some water!” She added with a grin to show she was joking.  

“The water had no chance against me, it was the rocks who won out in the end.” Morri’s eyes went distant for a moment, before focusing back on her with a smile, “By Aslan, am I glad I woke up to see your annoying face, though.”  

Fesh was tempted to roll her eyes again but refrained. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? You play such a good soldier in front of the prince, but the moment you get a chance you’ll find a way to insult me.”  

“Can’t help it just as much as you can’t help mooning over the queen’s brother, apparently.” A wicked grin stole over her brother’s face as he saw the heat rush to Fesh’s face.  

“You dog!” Fesh cried, her hand snaking out for a not so light cuff on the head, the petulant man didn’t even bother to duck away, “I do no such thing.”  

“Yes, you do. I’d say you were even before he so gallantly rescued you from harm.” The young man looked smug as she snatched the cup from his hand.  

“I’ve had quite enough of your nonsense.” Fesh sniffed, trying in vain to banish the heat in her cheeks and neck. She rose, heading to the door, “I’m going to get more water. When I get back you better be asleep.”  

Xx Zeepijeet xX

The mouse watched the comings and goings from the high wall, her tail twitching back and forth. No suspicious persons or signs of trouble had made themselves known while she had been up here. After scouting and surveying the land around the inn as well as this… place, she had come up to the wall just in time to see Arrosh win a fight by what seemed to be choking a man unconscious. Calormene people truly were strange.  

She could see the prince, the queen, and the sailor, clustered in a group on the far side of the fight ring. With Queen Aravis holding onto her brother-in-law’s arm, it shouldn’t be too much of a concern if someone were to try pulling her away as the man would know. Which was good as Grethlas was fully absorbed in the goings on rather than those around them.  

Now, a short man was parading about, causing a general ruckus to get the crowd excited. Like putty in his hands, they did as he wanted. Mugs of drink sloshed and sprayed their contents into the air as men gave a belligerent roar. Women, many scantily clad and more often hanging off the unraised arms of men squealed and giggled. No children were seen, thankfully. This was no place for them.  

As the cheering died out, the announcer and showman produced two blind cloths, handing one to each contestant. Then a long, thin stick was placed between them to the side of the ring, both about 10 paces away from it.  

Arrosh, his shoulder wound bleeding freely, tied the blind over his eyes, face as serious as ever. However, the other man didn’t. He grinned some, his teeth flashing in the torchlight, then nodded at the announcer who mirrored him in kind. Arrosh’s opponent tossed his blind aside. Zeepijeet felt that knowing tingle in her tail that told her something was wrong.  

Xx Corin xX

Corin pinched his lips together, Blood Beard, from what he could hear others saying around him, had agreed to forgo the fifteen crescents. His reward was to be able to attack without a blindfold of his own it seemed. Arrosh said that he didn’t need to win this match. Now the prince could see why. This was more of an entertainment for the crowd. If both wanted the fifteen crescents then it would be two blind fools. If only one, then all the more fun for them. While the boy didn’t need to win, Corin really would have preferred him to have kept his teeth. With Arrosh posing as his slave, could he step in and stop the match? How he wished he knew the rules!  

Blood Beard held up a hand to the announcer before the little man began shouting again, then pointed up twice. A greedy glitter shone in the other man’s eye and he nodded. To Corin’s surprise, the announcer didn’t call the start to the match, instead settled back on the ropes and gestured to Arrosh’s opponent.  

Blood Beard strode forward to the stick, a smoothed shaft of wood as long as Corin’s leg and as thin around as three fingers together. Arrosh stood, his hand lightly raised, waiting for the match to begin and was wholly unprepared when Blood Beard wound up, striking him in the side hard. Corin yelled out along with everyone else, Arrosh included, as the younger man stumbled to the side clutching his side. Aravis’ grip on his shirt was tight as hit after hit landed on the boy as his attacker shouted his bloodlust.  

After a moment, the bigger man seemed to tire, his chest heaving. Arrosh hadn’t fallen, but had doubled over with his head bent. Slowly his head rose, ear cocked as if listening. He was smiling, teeth bared. At this, the crowd shuffled some, even they were uncertain of what to make of it.  

“So I’ve been given the honor, Tashbaan?” He turned in a slow circle, uncertain of where his opponent was. “Why not give me the real honor then, if you’re so keen to pay for the upper hand?” With that, he tapped his right cheek, bringing it forward as if wanting to be struck.  

Blood Beard frowned, coming forward once more from the side of where Arrosh was facing. He hit again, his short staff striking his thigh before going to his side once more. Arrosh grunted, moving with the hit, and wrapped his arm around the staff to pin it. In answer, the man held tight to the weapon and planted a foot on Arrosh’s chest to shuck him away.  

“Come now,” Arrosh kept his voice light and scornful, “What is the strike of a blind man? Do you think, after the ones you’ve already received, you would be incapable of receiving such a small blow?”  

“You are a fool, boy.” Blood Beard struck again, this time going for the back, between the shoulder blades and right where Arrosh’s wound was. The young man’s face contorted in a mask of pain as his opponent kicked him in the back of the knee. As he fell to the ground, Red Beard grinned, grabbing Arrosh by the hair and hauling him up, Arrosh facing towards him. Again, the younger man smiled blindly at the man but said nothing. Corin started forward some, only the weight of Aravis on his arm stopping him. The boy had chose this for himself. He couldn't risk the queen.

“You impudent -” The man raised his fist to strike.  

A horn blasted, two large men entered the ring and separated the two of them. Arrosh pulled off his blindfold, eyes alight with something Corin couldn’t name, one of the larger men keeping him away from his former opponent. Blood Beard spat on the ground in front of Arrosh’s feet as the little announcer bounded in, declaring that this was the final match and some other words that Corin didn’t pay attention to. Blood Beard stalked out of the ring, pushing through the crowd and out the door. Arrosh was paraded around for a moment more, his stoic face from before having returned.  

Finally, he left the ring. A small handful of women clustered around where he was exiting, reaching out and touching him. They giggled as some snaked their hands out to grab at his arms and other places that would have had Corin slapping them at the least. Yet Arrosh ignored them, pushing their hands away and caught Corin’s eye. He nodded towards the exit and with that the group headed towards the door.  

Aravis let go of him, her queenly mask present as they pushed their way through the crowd. Corin was curious as to what she would say to her brother about this. He knew he had a few choice words for him.  

The walls rose up before them and, without so much as a glance from the doorman, they let themselves out. Arrosh was outside the other door, his clothes back on, holding a small cloth bag in the palm of his hand, his other arm wrapped around his middle.  

“Aye, lad!” Grethlas called with a big grin, going up to the boy and clapping him on the back, “That was brilliant! One of the better ones I’ve seen that’s for sure.”  

Arrosh winced but gave the sailor a small, quiet grin, raising his eyebrows as his eyes glittered some, “Was it the kick or the smiling at the end?” The little devil was evidently proud of his work. Corin set his teeth, trying to reign in his anger. He had never liked being lied to and with the situation they were in, he took it less than kindly.  

“That blasted kick was unlike anything I’ve seen!” Grethlas chuckled, “I’d tell you to teach me but I’m afraid my hips don’t do anything of the sort.”  

“I’m no teacher anyways.” Of all the things that made the young man loosen up, it was fighting in a shadows den?  

“But you are a fighter.” Corin found himself saying, his tone was sharp and accusatory, “Much unlike what you told me in Anvard.” His hands tightened into fists without even fully realizing it.  

Chapter Text

Xx Corin xX

Arrosh frowned, his smile slid away as confusion replaced it, “No, master. I’m not. I don’t fight.”  

“Claws and teeth, man, what do you call that then?” Corin nearly shouted, gesturing at the doorways as he got closer to the young man. Thankfully, it was early enough in the night that most of the customers remained inside to continue watching.  

“That is a game, your highness. Nothing like fighting.” His confusion and concern were so genuine looking that Corin almost thought that the boy believed his own lies.  

“Then what, by the Lion’s mane, is fighting if that is not it?” The prince took another step towards the young man. “And what about the robbers? You told me you didn’t know how to fight!”  

If anything, the boy was growing more adamant, his frown deepening as he gestured at the wall, “Fighting is outside of those walls. Fighting is when there are no holds, no rules, no winners, just the one who gets to walk away. Fighting is what gets you arrested and beaten. That,” He pointed at the walls more vehemently, “That is a game. No fight has foolish rules where you can’t raise your arms or strike with a fist!”  The boy paused for breath, then understanding started to dawn in his eyes as Corin kept silent, working to keep his composure, “Is this due to what we spoke of before leaving?” His concern was real. But was it because he got caught in a lie?  

“No, I’m talking about the conversation we had in a dream.” Corin rolled his eyes, “Yes, of course I am! You said you’d never learned a form, never got in fights since childhood. You lied!”  

“I promise you, oh my master –“ Fear was starting to creep into his voice. At the very least, the young man thought he was telling the truth. His eyes held no lie.  

“I’m not your master, Arrosh.” Corin snapped. After a moment, he forced himself to take a breath, he had let his hot headedness get the best of him long enough. Slowly, he unclenched his fists, took a breath, and released his jaw. Anger, he had learned over the years, was not always the best solution.  

“Sir, I promise you, I did not lie.” Arrosh raised his hands as Corin was about to object, “This game is not a recognized form, it is not fighting. Otherwise, the Tisroc, may he live forever, would never allow it among the common men.” He knelt, head bowed and back bent, “Please, sir, know that when you asked on such matters I thought I spoke the truth. It was unknown to me that in the north that this is considered fighting.” He looked up at him, breathing heavily, pleading, “I am truly sorry, sire, it seems I have misled you.”  

Corin let out a sigh, the fight and anger draining out of him. “Get up, Arrosh. Get up. It was a simple misunderstanding. A difference between our countries and ways.”

Orran likely would have killed the boy on the spot – or tried to. But Corin was not Orran and he would not let suspicion and hostility cause any undue issues in this ornery adventure. Though, when they returned to Archenland, Corin had a feeling that he was going to test just how much this boy supposedly didn’t know.  

Arrosh stayed there for a moment longer before getting up slowly. “I apologize, sire.” His head was bowed, all the levity from before gone. It gutted Corin as he saw it, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret the confrontation. It would have merely festered into something far worse. Better to have it out now and let the wound air out.  

“No, I am.” Corin ran his hands through his blonde hair with a sigh, “I’m sorry, Arrosh.” He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving it a kindly squeeze for a moment.   

Arrosh looked away for a moment before giving Corin a half grin, albeit a subdued one, “Your winnings, sir.” He raised the bag to the prince.  

Corin took it and placed it in the safe pouch he kept inside his shirt. He wasn’t ready to be jovial yet. It had been a misunderstanding, but one that had wounded his trust all the same.  

Grethlas shuffled some, looking at the stone buildings, the plant life, the rocks in the dirt road, anywhere but the two other men. His grin was gone as well and for that Corin felt some small contrition. This sort of adventure hadn't been much of one in the way of joy.

Aravis was next to the sailor, her poise unshaken as she took them in. She had stood calm in the face of battles, loss, and troubles in the years leading to and during her reign. She would be shaken but it took far more than that to break Aravis, queen of Archenland.

Arrosh looked to her but held his tongue. Waiting.  

Xx Arrosh xX

Arrosh looked to his eldest sister, trying to calm his wildly beating heart. Did she despise him now? Disgusted?  

Not once had it occurred to him that the prince would see the game as fighting. Arrosh didn’t fight. Couldn’t. The robbers had been an exception that he didn’t want to have to make again.  

“If I ever catch you fighting, boy, I’ll throw you in jail myself and give your sister the beating you deserve.”  

He’d been registered at 12 but the closest ring had been several towns away, which made it difficult to participate. Thus, Arrosh had memorized the game and the rules then practiced with his friend Umab. Both of them had been players, neither able to go as often as they or their families would like. Winning hadn’t been just a matter of pride but a matter of keeping a roof over their heads. Neither went against the other in the ring, not wanting such matters to come between them.  

He had lied to himself about what it was for so long that he had forgotten that it was, in fact, a lie. He told himself it was normal, that it was accepted. While it was a game – no matter what the prince said - even in Calormen it was far from being considered accepted by others. How easy it was to forget when your world was so small.  

He was pulled from his thoughts as the queen said, “Next time, I’ll take your warnings to heart more.” She was standing so still, her face one he couldn’t read. “Now, let us leave this place and get some rest.” She looked him over, a glimmer of concern coming through, “We’ll have to make sure to get some water for you to wash with.”  

Arrosh simply nodded, the thrill of the game and everything that had happened had sapped him. After this, he wouldn’t be surprised if he woke to the queen having changed her mind and the group of them would leave with the coin. He had betrayed them somehow. Broken a piece of what they thought they knew of him. Pity would be gone. Even if he tried. He could only hope that she would still want to save Iliz. After that, nothing mattered.   

The sun woke, peaking out over the hilltops and houses, her light grasping for purchase wherever it could, to find that someone had woken before her. In truth, Arrosh wasn’t entirely sure he had slept at all. Despite the beating he’d gotten the night before, sleep had evaded him. The events of the coming day and the pain coming from nearly every part of his body were the main reasons, he suspected.  

Would she be there? What would he do if she wasn’t? How would he find out what had happened to her? All these questions and more clamored for space in his mind. It was for the better that he was awake before anyone else, he knew he wouldn’t be in good sorts with people at that moment. The pain in his ribs was like he was being kicked and hit all over again every time he breathed, his head throbbed with the beat of his heart, and he wasn’t sure there were many places on his skin left without a bruise.   

Wincing at his instinctive deep breath, Arrosh put his head on the window frame and refused to pray. He had nothing to sacrifice, no gift to give, and no altar with which to offer any of what he did not have. He wasn’t going to risk the wrath of the gods. All he could do was hope that they wouldn’t take notice and let be what would be.  

Xx Corin xX

Corin opened his eyes to the morning light filtering in, the sounds of Calormene life sifting easily through the walls of the house. So easily that it seemed as though the horse cart was plodding a course through their very room. The floor, some form of smooth plaster substance, radiated the cool of the night still, bringing to life every ache possible. What he would do to simply be able to sleep in a good bed. Even in war and battles he had at least the comfort of a cot or sleeping mat. The landlord here hadn’t even enough blankets for all of them. It had served them well that the room was so small, where it was easier to share the blankets and with four men on the floor the shared body heat had made up for any lack. For a place so hot, he had forgotten that the nights were often bitter with cold.  

Rising, he stifled a groan. Arrosh stood by the window and the rest were stirring. How could they not with all the noise beginning as it was?  

“Alright, everyone,” Corin put his hands on his hips, a smile playing across his face, “Let’s do what we came here for.” All they would have to do was buy the girl, get to Tashbaan, and they would be on a ship before the day was out. Home at last.  

Xx Fesh xX

“You recall the plan, yes?” Arrosh asked again for what must have been the seventh time as they walked down the street. He walked with a stiffness she hadn’t seen before the group had gone to the supposed game, even the muscles around his neck were tight. Was it nerves or was it from what had happened? She hadn’t quite figured out what it was and plans for getting the young man’s little sister had overshadowed chances for other conversation that morning.  

“Yes.” Fesh answered, nodding her head, ”You and Corin do the talking. I act like an uppity wife. If you don’t see her, you’ll blink twice, and I will say none of them please me, which will cause you to insist to see more girls. If you see her, you’ll blink but once. See? I haven’t forgotten in the fifteen steps that have been taken since the last time you asked.” She knew why he kept asking and found she couldn’t blame him for it. Wouldn’t she be nervous if it was her brother held in chains?   

They were approaching the edge of the city, on a small road with little homes on each side, pressed so close that at times it seemed as though some shared walls. Having walked through Azro-balda to get to the slaver’s location, it appeared that the poorest were stuck on the outside of the city, farthest away from the river. While the town center had been full of people and life, this area held fewer people. Besides a couple mothers, the  elderly, and the naked toddlers they had charge over, few were to be seen. The rest were likely either working or at school.  

The road they were following revealed that a stone wall was rising before them not far in the distance, the closed gate flanked by two armed men. This must be the place. Beyond the wall she could see the top of a building, red tile roof and stone walls, much like many of the nicer buildings she had seen so far.  

Before approaching the gate, the party came to a stop. They were at the edge of the town and where a long stretch of emptiness began. No trees or bushes grew here, not even the stubborn prickly kind, just red, dusty soil. With the city itself being on a river, much of the land was rich with plants and green things. However, this was the other side of the town, and it seemed that not much was done to encourage life in this place. In fact, it appeared that it may very well have been discouraged.  

“Alright, with there being no cover, we can’t let Zeep out here.” Corin said, scanning the area ahead from the shade of a house.  

“Maybe those who go could bring her with them and slip her out when the chance is given.” Grethlas offered, sucking his teeth in thought.  

Fesh’s ears started to thrum with the beat of her heart. The time had come. She hadn’t been planning on being part of the rescue, hadn’t really been planning at all. Her main focus when she’d stowed away had been to go where she had felt safest and that was with her brother. Now here she was, trying to save a little girl from slavery and pretending to be someone she was not. Not exactly what one would think of as safe. Still, she refused to regret her decision.  

The others went back and forth for a time, debating on who should go or something of the kind. Fesh hadn’t really thought it worth the bother to listen, she knew she would have to go and she had to be ready to act the part. It wouldn’t do any good for Corin to take in a wife who looked scared to death. Taking a steadying breath, she steeled herself, sending a prayer to Aslan. Though she wasn’t entirely certain how he would take to them lying about who they were.  

There was nodding all around and Fesh started to follow the group headed towards the slaver’s home. It seemed it would just be Arrosh and Corin who came with her. There was a sense to it. Better to have more to protect the queen after all.   

Morri gave her shoulder a squeeze before she left, a smile lighting his eyes, “You’ll do well, just make sure to keep that nose in the air, alright?”  

Xx Corin xX

They’d gotten in easily enough, upon getting to the guards, Arrosh had declared their desire to view the wares, asking after the steward or master of the house. The doors had opened a moment later to reveal a large, nearly empty courtyard that had been laid with stone, to the left was a stone bench against the adjacent wall and farther along the wall were different objects that were difficult to discern from Corin’s vantage point. To the right was more emptiness, except for one lonely tree. In front of them, the plain, grey pavers made a pattern that guided them to the low mansion before them. It was far from the most opulent Corin had seen in Tashbaan, for it held no statues of gods, or turrets like the castles and estates of home. Yet there were a good many pillars, each engraved with different scenes or patterns. The main doors were large and wooden, yet held no carvings. The man was certainly wealthy but was far from being the wealthiest even in the city. That could be good or bad.  

Through the door a large, fat man made his way towards them, his robes bright and heavily embroidered, several gemmed rings adorning his fingers. So that was where the rest of his money had gone. He’d eaten it and dressed himself with what was left. Or maybe he’d dressed himself and eaten what was left. It was hard to say as he was both so fat and so decadently dressed.  

A broad smile folded across his face as he stretched his arms wide, “You are most welcome, oh my guests.” He gestured towards the stone benches, “Come, let us sit and we will make ourselves rightfully known to one another.” As he got closer, Corin began to grasp just how truly large this man was. The man was a good two heads taller than Corin himself and with how large he was, he would have made Orran nearly look small. His robes were stretched tight at the shoulders and middle, his bald head glinted in the sun.  

As they followed him to their seating, a small entourage of servants came from a side door in the building, carrying cushions and platters filled with cakes and drinks. Corin’s mouth watered at the sight. Mayhaps there would be a benefit to this dreadful experience after all.  

“Don’t take any of the food or drink.” Arrosh turned some and said to them quietly, “It is likely he will charge you for it before you leave.” It seemed that there wouldn’t be any additional benefits to the goings on after all.  

Fesh nodded dutifully from her place on Corin’s arm. She was doing well to appear relaxed despite their circumstances. Though, with how she was gripping his arm she likely was far from truly being in such a state.  

Getting to the benches, Corin had Fesh sit first and seated himself beside her. The man sat upon another bench that was not far from them and Arrosh stood between them. With the time of the day, this side of the courtyard was still in shadow. From their position they could see the expanse of the courtyard, the mansion not far to their left. The objects, Corin discovered, appeared to be weights, likely for the male slaves to show the physical capabilities. Corin had to bite his tongue to keep from sneering with disgust.  

“I am Zardashi, master of the house and servant to your needs.” The large man bent his head slightly towards them, “To whom do my eyes delight to see?”  

Corin glanced over at Arrosh, affecting a lazy look and gave him a nod. It was better when few were speaking, less of a chance to confuse their stories.   

“Oh my esteemed host, this is Lord Niv and his wife, Lady Fesh, of the northern lands.” Arrosh answered, gesturing towards them and bowing slightly. Fesh kept an arm looped through Corin’s with her other hand lightly on her stomach, her features studiously aloof. “Having heard of your enterprise, they have come in search of a young girl to care for their coming child. The girl must be at least ten but no more than fourteen for their needs. It has been told far and wide of your good standing and quality goods, oh my host.”   

Corin’s stomach turned at the words and yet again had to work to keep it from his face. These were people, real people, not things to be bought and sold.  

“Oh my most welcome guests, I congratulate you on your coming joy.” Zardashi grinned at them, “I have some few that may be just what you desire. They will be here very soon.” With a snap of his fingers a servant came up beside him and he said something in the Calormene tongue, the young woman nodded and scurried away. Turning he grinned at them, “But come! Your travels must have been long and troublesome, have something to drink! Eat until your heart is content! After all, the proverbs say, ‘many miles may be walked but the drink of friendship makes the journey light’ and ‘food fills and drink revives the honorable’.”  

Corin pursed his lips and shook his head ever so slightly, as though disgusted. Which was a shame as the food looked delectable after having only traveling type food for the past few days, though the cool drinks were the more tempting measure.   

What a sight they must have been to this man. Before leaving for the day, they had attempted to clean up but it hadn’t done much. His clothes were simple, standard fare among those of Archenland, the handful of jewelry they had brought was likely at the bottom of the ocean now. Fesh had needed to borrow Aravis’ dress as her own had a tear. At least they were mostly clean and their hair was neat. That was all they could do now.  

If Zardashi was displeased, then he did well to not to show it. Instead, he smiled and waved his arm, “Ah, here they are!”  

Corin’s heart lurched as he saw the string of girls that had threaded out of the same door the servants had come from, standing before them now. They were clean, likely cleaner than Corin himself, their simple clothes showed no signs of heavy wear, and there were no visible signs of harm on their skin. Yet there was an air about them, how they held themselves, head tilted towards the earth just enough, their eyes never leaving their bare feet. Why did it have to be just one girl they took? If it wouldn’t be taken as an outright act of war, Corin would come back here with his army and free every one of these children. No child or person deserved such a fate as this. To be considered less than human, to be a commodity shown for others to purchase.  

“...Can walk down the line and view them as you please.” The slaver was saying, a smug, self-pleased look in his eye, as though it were by his merit that the children existed in the first place, “These are the ones we have which are of the younger age you asked. We have one other group for you to view, if you should so desire.” He waved his arm out as if welcoming them to look at his wall of curiosities and not little girls.  

Arrosh bowed slightly and the three of them made their way towards the line of little girls. With this being the younger batch, it was unlikely it would be Iliz, but there was still a chance. There were about fifteen of them along the line. Corin took a breath and prepared himself. This was not going to be as easy as he’d originally thought for.  

Xx Fesh xX

Fesh kept her arm looped through Corin’s for as much as support as to keep up appearances. Her hand over her stomach was a touch she was quietly proud of. Her late aunt had done the same before the pregnancy had even been noticeable, she’d simply known.  

The line of little girls before them had been trained well. Their backs straight, stance not so manly as to cause distaste but strong enough that people would think of them as capable. Avoiding looking into the eyes to cause a distance between themselves and those looking. She herself had learned to do something similar when applying for different service jobs and when she was trained in the castle.   

But that had been her choice, in a way. Not so for these children. They’d been given no such grace in the matter. It was shocking to see not only who she thought were likely Calormen born children but some of a lighter skin as well. Had they been stolen away from the islands? Or sold like Arrosh’s little sister?  

Arrosh moved ahead of them, moving at a slow pace, seeming to inspect the girls. Some he would lift their faces, looking them over, his face a mask of stone as he continued on down the line, blinking twice before turning away. It felt wrong to even be in such a place, much less engaging in the act of checking to see if a girl would be a suitable slave. She knew why the girls never looked at them, it would make people remember they were human, which would make potential buyers uncomfortable. By Aslan, this was an evil she had never seen before.  

To keep her composure, she kept her focus on Arrosh. What he did, how many times he blinked after looking at a girl. She tried to seem interested without having to look at the children. Children they couldn’t help. What torture it must be for Arrosh. To be unable to run down the line, scanning each face for the only one he truly sought. Her heart ached for him.  

They got down to the end of the line, he blinked twice, his jaw tight. That was her queue, Fesh lifted her chin, shaking her head, “No. None of these.”  

Arrosh turned to Zardashi, “Come, oh my host, let us see your next selection.”  

The man, a man with more pomp than she even seen with the Archenland royalty, frowned some and snapped his fingers. As one, the line of girls turned and headed back towards the door from which they came. Before they had reached the door, another train of about twenty came out, trading places with them. These were older girls, though not by much. The others had likely been between nine and eleven. These were nearer to twelve and fourteen. Dressed the same, their stances the same. The trio began the same grueling task, time crawling by in an agony of anticipation.  

By the middle of the line, Arrosh had began to walk faster, the act starting to slip away some. Fesh breathed out a prayer that the girl would be found. So much had been done to get here. Iliz simply had to be here.  

Near the end of the line, Arrosh blinked twice and shook his head slightly, his fists clenching. Fesh again pursed her lips, proclaiming that none satisfied her, thrusting her nose in the air indignantly.  

Corin stepped in next, as Arrosh seemed to be working on keeping himself composed, “Teeth and claws, man,” He scoffed, his chest puffing out some, “Is this all you have? None of these will do.”  

Zardashi came forward, his hands rubbing back and forth, “My apologies, oh Lord and Lady, these are all I have which are in the ages you requested. Mayhaps one of whom is younger or older would please you?”  

Fesh curled her lip and shook her head. She had to focus on acting. If not, she would be swept along with the crushing disappointment that loomed overhead. Beside her Corin scoffed again.  

Arrosh scurried over, his look one of imploring, as though trying to keep the two from anger. Though, Fesh knew it was desperation as he asked, “Mayhaps, oh my host, you have some you wish not to show? Or even a couple who are ill?”  

Fesh found herself holding her breath as they waited for an answer.  

Xx Aravis xX

Aravis paced the little alley way they had taken shelter in from the late morning sun, keeping her back straight and steps at a careful rate. While she was unwilling to stay still, she would not make a fool of herself in front of the others. Grethlas and Sir Morri had taken positions on either end of the alley, what little weapons there were to be had on hand. Even with the young knight wounded as he was it was better than nothing. Zeepijeet patroled around, keeping to the rooftops. If anyone of an unseemly nature looked to be approaching, they would know of it.   

How long had it been since the other half of their group had entered? How long did these matters take? Was the time a good sign? Surely there would be the matter of negotiating price. Yes, then it was good. She had to stop thinking of it.  

Her mind wandered to the events of the night before. It was a reminder. A reminder of just how little she knew of her brother. The boy she’d thought she’d known was beaten and hurt by their father, raised to hate her, someone who held himself in such a way that even statements seemed as questions. There were times when he came forward to speak or would smile and make light. But there was always a sadness in his eyes that spoke more than his words, a hesitance when attempting to speak with authority or confidence. How did she reconcile that boy with the dark, serious young man who fought in shadow dens? As soon as he’d left the arena it had been as if he changed back to the one she’d known. By Aslan, what was she to make of it? She would have to discuss it with Arrosh. Mayhaps there was an explanation.  

She knew what Cor would say. He would say that he’d told her before that Arrosh wasn’t what he seemed. In truth, he would have wanted her home as soon as the ship crashed, would have fought with her every step of the way yet supporting her when the inevitable decision was made. Her heart ached at the thought. She missed him beyond words and could only hope that he’d found their friends.  

 As Aravis came to the end of the alley, she glanced down towards the gates. They remained unmoved.   

“Nothing yet, your majesty.” Sir Morri reported, as though she couldn’t see that for herself.  

“If you cannot bring yourself to call me by my supposed name, do not address me as anything.” Aravis pointed out gently, glancing around, “We may feel alone but there may be people within the buildings we are surrounded by.”  

The knight colored, looking down, “I apologize, yo-” He cleared his throat, “I’m sorry.” It seemed to take him a physical effort not to add anything onto the end.  

“You have been well trained, Sir Morri.” Aravis nodded to him, “It is to your credit.” Before he could answer movement at the gate caught her eye. The doors were opening. Her stomach clenched, this was it.  

Through the door walked Arrosh, his pace fast, behind him came Corin and Fesh. The gates closed. It was just them.  

No. Oh, Aslan, please no.  

She watched her little brother get to the edge of the clearing and fall to his knees.  

Chapter Text

Xx Arrosh xX

The ground met his knees with a dull ache, a pain so vague he wished it were more. Nothing would be enough. An eternity of agony wouldn’t be enough.  

It was over. She was gone. Beyond his reach. He had been so sure, so hopeful as he’d clawed his way to Archenland. He’d crossed seas and mountains for the chance of help; he’d received that help against all odds. Surely that had meant that she would be there, would be within reach. He couldn’t have done everything he had done for her to be gone. But no, it was all for nothing. Who knew who she’d been sold to, what sort of people they were.   

His hands gripped at the red dust, digging in, his nails cracking against the dense earth. Had she even been sold? Or had she died before that? She could have gotten sick, been beaten and the wounds infected. So many possibilities and none of them known.   

A low keen sat in the base of his throat as his arms shook with the effort to keep it from escaping, his eyes dry as he stared without sight. He knew what to do to mourn, he raised his hands, filled with soil and stopped before they had even passed his waist. He didn’t deserve to mourn her; it was his fault. He never should have left her with their father; he never should have let his anger get the better of him. He should die for his wrongs. Life was too good for one such as him.  

The world was dim around him; people spoke yet he didn’t hear. The sun held no warmth or light. Figures moved around him, but they didn’t matter. The only one that mattered was gone now. Out of reach, her fate unknown.   

It all came into a screaming focus as a hand gripped Arrosh’s shoulder. But it wasn’t focus. It was simply a fear as old as time and that gods forsaken person grabbing him. Grabbing him, holding him there, fingers pressing into his skin. It was a burning pressure building in his bones.  

The keen turned to a yell as he ripped himself away, “Get off!” He came to his feet and staggered a few paces away, heart in his mouth as he grit his teeth to keep the yell inside. The coals of shame scorched his insides before he even drew his next breath. He shouldn’t be acting like this. His heart should be breaking, not beating out of his chest in the need to flee. Could it be that he was so callous and weak-willed that he leapt at the chance to distract himself from what had happened with Iliz? Arrosh clenched his fists as he worked to slow his breathing, he couldn't continue in this way.  

The man still held his hand out, seeming frozen, his brow rose and came together, eyes laced with concern. Aravis and Fesh knelt on the ground near where Arrosh had once been, looking up at him as though they were still wondering what had just happened.   

As he looked at Aravis, he saw the tears that had tracked their way down her face, mixing with the red dust and grime of their travels. He looked away, running his hands through his hair to keep himself from joining her. He had no right.  

“This isn’t the end of the line, friend.” The prince was saying, his hand dropped, and he took a slow step towards Arrosh. “Surely, there is another way.” His calm, authoritative voice held a firm confidence that Arrosh clung to it closer than a drowning man tossed a rope.  

Arrosh closed his eyes, he had to think. Prince Corin was right, there had to be a way to find her. He couldn’t be wasting anymore time.  

Xx Fesh xX

Arrosh stood a few feet away, his jaw clenched tight as he raked in ragged breaths. Back in the slaver’s courtyard, he’d nearly run away, his sharp turn and steps quick as he’d left for the gate, after the large man had dolefully shaken his head, stating that there were no more girls that fit their desires. Prince Corin had pretended to make a fuss and she had huffed even as her heart broke for the young man. They left with heads held high. As soon as the doors had closed, though, her shoulders had drooped and unshed tears blurred her vision. When Arrosh had collapsed and Queen Aravis had run to him, she had joined her in front of him to speak words of comfort. They would have done better trying to comfort the stones at their feet for all the good it seemed to have done.  

Corin had paced back and forth, his face stern and determined, speaking of how they wouldn’t give up. She wasn’t sure he had even realized what sort of state Arrosh had been in when the prince had brought his hand to the boy’s shoulder.   

“Where’s the mouse?” Arrosh spoke, looking around, bringing the young woman back to the present. He was still tense but no longer lost. His grief had been given a direction it seemed.  

Fesh stood slowly, taking the queen’s hand to help her up. The woman’s face was wet with tears, yet she held herself in a confidence that would shame a panther. Queen Aravis was grieved but far from broken. Fesh steeled herself, drawing confidence from her queen’s faith. All would be well.  

Zeepijeet spoke quietly from the roof of the house on the end of the alley where she crouched, “Right here, sir.” She glanced around, she spoke again in the same soft tone, “Take care, there are listening ears near.”  

Arrosh nodded and walked into the alley, passing Morri and Grethlas without a word. The group followed him into the narrow way between houses. Fesh passed her brother and he gave her arm a kindly pat, whispering, “You did your best, I’m sure.” She lifted her shoulder in a halfhearted shrug, her acting could have been the worst in Calormen for all the good it would have done. The girl wasn’t there. What did it mean for the rest of this venture? Would they return to Archenland? Or continue on?  

They got to the end of the alley where a pile of refuse built up against the wall. There were no windows on the sides of the three houses that made the end of the alley and for good reason. The sun baked, rotting debris was surely enough to keep even those inside the houses far away.  Fesh couldn’t help but shield her nose with the end of the cloth from her head covering at the stench. Zeep skittered across the roofs and down to the street, gesturing that it was safe to speak.  

“Can you read?” Arrosh asked, bending slightly to speak to the talking mouse. Fesh would have smiled at the action if the situation wasn’t so serious. Many either knelt to speak to smaller talking animals or simply looked down at them. The young man clearly didn’t know which to do.  

Zeepijeet sniffed, looking as offended as a mouse can, her whiskered nose tilting up with an indignant twitch, “Of course I can read.”  

If the boy noticed the offense taken, he did well not to show it, “Good, do you think you could sneak into Zardashi’s manor, find his study or bedroom, then find his records?”  

The mouse was quiet for a moment, her tail swishing back and forth in thought, “It is likely I could get in at night. What would his records look like?”  

The young man pursed his lips, “A book mayhaps? It would be one of the ones that aren’t completed yet. Maybe a scroll. I would think it unlikely for him to lock it away. He may keep it close by his person in the night, however.”  

Zeep nodded, “I should be able to find something of the sort. But what would I be looking for?”  

“Her tag.” Arrosh took the knife from his belt, drawing in the dirt, “All slavers keep records, and every slave has a tag.” The tag was a string of numbers, 53607. “This should be in there and saying who she was sold to or,” His voice caught, and his eyes went distant for a moment, “Or if she died.”  

Fesh bit her lip. Aslan, let the little girl still be alive. Her heart cracked at the thought of another fruitless venture, breaking what was left of their hope.   

The mouse looked to Corin, her tail still for once, “What do you say, sir?”  

The prince had his arms crossed, a hand on his chin, “You believe you can do such a thing?”  

“Yes, sir.”  

“Then you’ll do it tonight,” He looked at the sky, sighing, it was high in the sky, “In the meantime, we’ll get some food and find a place to wait. By the river where we can get some shade and water. Once you discover where Iliz has gone, we’ll go to Tashbaan and make a plan from there.”  

Xx Corin xX

Blast and botheration! Of course, the girl wasn’t there. It couldn’t have been simple. All he had wanted was to get on the ship, get to the port, buy the girl, and sail back to Anvard as fast as the winds would take them. Then he’d get the swiftest horse he had and meet up with Cor in the search for their friends. He’d held his patience in the shipwreck, the worries of each passing day and the ache of loss were distraction enough from his missing friends. But now? By Aslan, they had walked for days to get here and she wasn’t there! Precious time wasted.  

Corin let out a sigh, tossing a pebble into the river from his place in the shade. He could almost sense Peter shaking his head at him now, while Ed would chuckle and say something witty and sharp, if they knew what he was thinking. Moreover, they’d likely give him a good shake and a box around the ears if he did anything less than do all that he could to save the little girl. Aravis’ sister no less. It was his duty.  

He was letting his mind get away from him. It was as good as not that Cor had found them and they were all having a good laugh around the hearth over the mishap they had gotten themselves into. After their own tale, Lucy would speculate that Corin had gotten himself in some sort of scrape and Edmund would agree, joking that he had probably tried to box his way out of it. Susan would scold while Peter just watched in silent amusement.  

Corin sighed once more, looking over the motley assortment of people who were brought together on an adventure many of them hadn’t originally been planning on being so closely involved in. Not far away, Sir Morri sat against the tree that they had all taken shelter under, his leg propped up on a larger rock with an empty pack beneath his foot. He looked better than he had last night but not by much. His sister, Fesh, was beside him along with Grethlas. Zeep was overhead in the tree, in case of any passerby. The four of them chatted amicably, Fesh braiding her hair as Grethlas whittled a branch. On the banks, further away, up the hill, and out of the shade,  Arrosh sat on a large rock facing the river, his shoulders slumped and head bowed. How terrible it must be for him.  

“I should talk with him.” Aravis said from beside him, her hand ran through the grass in slow, comforting motions. Her thoughts didn’t seem to be much brighter than Corin’s own.  

“Do you want me to?” Not that it had helped much last time. He should have known better than to touch the young man when he was that upset. While some didn’t mind or even took comfort from such things, it wasn’t uncommon when it resulted in anger or distress. Now that he was calmer, talking may help.  

“No, I’m his sister, I will.” Aravis shook her head to the offer, “Go, talk and make light with the others.”  

Corin grinned, standing with a bow as he helped her up, “Yes, your majesty.” She gave orders without even fully realizing it now. Not that it had been much different when they were growing up. It was just that, back then, he’d challenge her for the fun of it. More often than not he had come to regret such actions. As the years went on, the contrary nature of a teenage boy had turned to a respect that had only deepened in the recent years of her reign as queen.  

Aravis rolled her eyes in good humor and went towards her brother. The group quieted as she passed, watching as she went. They likely would have stayed subdued even as she sat with Arrosh,  the reminder of the circumstances too strong to keep their spirits up. Luckily, Corin wasn’t about to let that happen. Plopping down, he spread out on his side, giving them a smile, “So, besides the lovely shores that we got to see quite unexpectedly, what is the best part of Calormen each of you have seen as of yet?”  

Xx Arrosh xX

The water sped by in such a rush, as if it had somewhere quite important to go rather than simply the expanse of the ocean. Yet, for all the rushing and burbling, time marched a slow pace across the sky. Leaving him to fester in his own thoughts, a torment he deserved but nearly couldn’t bare.  

Iliz sitting in the doorway, weaving a grass basket. Her grin as she saw him approach.  

Her first tooth lost and giving her his fruit, disguised as an extra.  

Her face as she spoke of the different reeds and roots she had found along the banks, hands stained green and blue while she held up her latest project.  

Memories flitted through his mind. She couldn’t be dead. She wasn’t. Right? The thin, brittle lines of hope which held his heart together began to snap, pulled tight against the stark reality that he would never see Iliz again.  

He lifted his eyes from the rushing water, forcing himself to take in the city. His perch was a rather large, wide rock set back some from the river and he could look down at the wretched place full of empty promises. She wasn’t there. He was starting to wonder if it was even possible to know that the mouse could find the documents. She was likely dead and gone, her body in some unmarked place with the others like her.   

Would he ever truly discover the fate of his little sister? A lump formed in his throat at the thought. He would just have to wait and see. Even as the lines of hope broke away with each passing moment, the unknown was as much a solace as it was a sharp pain.  

The agony of waiting wasn’t nearly what he deserved. He’d promised her. He’d made an oath. Now he’d gone and broken that promise while she suffered for it. His head sunk once more, unable to bare the weight of such guilt.  

All he wanted to do was yell, yell and shout, to throw something, to throw himself into the rushing waters even. Anything to relieve the swelling panic and grief that threatened to consume him. Yet he wouldn’t, he sat there as a shell after a bird dropped it on the rocks to get the meat inside. Letting the tide of pain wash over him, over and over again. He was an oath breaker, a monster of the worst kind. He had more rights to a hanging than to allowing himself to give in to such selfish actions.   

A person slid into his peripheral as he raised his head some, coming up onto the stone a little slower and settling herself, her feet just shy of the ground. Aravis. The woman who had spent coin, time, and had even suffered a shipwreck along with trekking all the way to Azro-Balda on foot for a girl she’d never met. Yet here she was, ready to continue the search. He didn’t deserve this.   

But Iliz did.  

His appreciation didn’t stop the prick of annoyance at his solitude being interrupted, however. He threw a sidelong glance at her, trying to figure what she wanted. But she didn’t say anything, just looked ahead at the city, seeming thoughtful. He wasn’t sure what to expect. But if she wasn’t going to talk then he was perfectly fine keeping the silence.  

They stayed that way for a time. A breeze from the sprawling tangle of shanties, houses, and mansions made its way to them, telling of the refuse, food, and chaos of humanity beyond. It smelled of home but bigger with less animals. Would he ever see his home again? It was unlikely.  

“I’m sorry we didn’t find Iliz here.” The woman finally spoke, her voice was soft, tinged with something akin to pain, “I know how much you wanted to find her.”  

There it was. Arrosh sighed, sliding down to the grass below him, limiting his view of the city. He leaned his head against the rock, taking his focus to the sky, “It is what it will be. I’m sure the mouse will find out where she’s gone.” He didn’t bother trying to hide his doubt. It was as if his heart was squeezing out of his chest, threatening to crack and leave him an empty husk. 

It wasn’t long before Aravis joined him. Her quiet presence did more than it should have for only having reunited with her less than a month earlier. Would she ever make it back to her home? If all went well, then she should. But what if the worst happened? He wasn’t sure he could stand it if that happened after all she had done for him and his.  

They were silent again for a time. But he found himself saying into it, his voice low and soft, it felt brittle, “I didn’t find her body, you know.” After all his sister had done, she deserved to know. Even if it broke him to speak of it. She had to understand.  

“Who?” Aravis looked to him, matching his soft tone.  

“ Father’s wife , Lazolmidiz, was the only mother I ever knew.” He answered, drawing his knees up and staring at that space between the worlds, “I didn’t find her body. She was alive when I got there.” His mind turned back to that day. The day everything had changed for the second time.  

Chores in the morning, finding a little frog. Iliz would like it.  

“I went to the back court of our home. Just a little area we’d fenced off with enough space to hang out the clothes. Father wouldn’t fit in there laying out straight.” He was rambling now, “I went there because I’d heard screaming. It was the baby. That ugly, burbling scream little ones give when they’ve been hurt.” He shut his eyes for a moment and took a breath.  

Mother crouched over the baby. Not comforting her. She was shaking. Crying? Was she sick?  

“When I got there , she was over the baby, over Iliz. She’d never fully been right after we’d left our first home. A piece of her had broken. She tried to hold herself together, but she couldn’t. Coming in, I’d distracted her.” His voice shook despite himself, “She turned to look up at me and I realized that the baby was covered in blood while she held a knife. It wasn’t until later that I found out that she’d scratched an X over Iliz’s heart.”   

Blood. So much blood for such a little child.  

The frog dropping to the ground with a damp plop.  

“She wanted end her life because she knew the one we had was going to be difficult.” Arrosh continued after a short time, “I tried to talk to her, saying Iliz was a baby. Not yet two years old. She wouldn’t know the difference. It only made her mad, she forgot about Iliz and focused on that she would know. She would always remember. That father would never get her away from here, that she wouldn’t be chained to such a life. Then,” His face screwed up and he ran his fingers through his hair, gripping at the ends, “Then she took the knife to her wrists. Deep. There was nothing I could do. Nothing I knew how to do.”  

Twin pools of blood, expanding. Wanting to look away, to forget. His feet unable to move, eyes frozen on the wounds.  

The baby screaming and screaming. Pain was all she knew. She couldn’t know her mother lay not three feet from her. Dead.  

“Iliz didn’t have anyone to help her . I knew how to do that. So, I scooped her up and ran inside.”   

A scared boy looking up at his father as the man came home as he clutched a sleeping, bloody baby to his chest. Pointing to the back courtyard, words, lies, tumbling out of his mouth. He’d found her like that, he’d taken Iliz from beside her. Maybe if he said it, it would be true. He hadn’t seen her do it. Hadn’t watched. Hadn’t failed to save her.  

The lies had never worked. Not where it mattered. Oh, his father had believed him and anyone else who he told. But not him. He would always know, always remember.  

He leaned his head back against the stone again, “It was in that moment, I promised Iliz that I’d never let anything happen to her again. That I would take care of her. That I would protect her.” At the feeling of Aravis snaking her arm through his, a tear fell unbidden down his cheek, “And yet, here I am. Breaking my promise.” Wiping away the tear, he finished with, “I’m sorry I lied. I’ve never told anyone. I even told father that I’d found her afterwards.”  

He couldn’t see his sister’s face, as she’d put her head against his shoulder, but he heard the sniff, felt the wet of a tear on his shoulder, “Don’t be sorry, Arrosh. I’m sure that wasn’t easy to tell.” She wiped at her face as well, “Thank you, for trusting me with it.”  

“I can’t lose her, Aravis.” It was difficult to keep the other tears from joining the first. The lump in his throat was quickly threatening to turn into a sob. Arrosh clenched his jaw to keep it in, drawing deep breaths. He wasn’t Iliz’s father, but he’d raised her, helped keep her fed, loved her when Kidrash couldn’t. If he lost her, he knew without a doubt what he would do. He wouldn’t deserve his life if she’d died. It would be his fault she died, and he would pay for it with his own.  

“Have faith, Arrosh. Zeep will find where she’s gone, I’m sure of it.” She gave his hand a squeeze.  

“I’ll do my best.” He lied, chewing the inside of his lip for a moment. He tried to bring in some levity, “Have you eaten? Or did Grethlas get to what’s left?” If they kept talking about such matters, it wouldn’t matter how much he thought he didn’t deserve to mourn. The dams would open and there would be no stopping the tears.  

He felt her smile before she lifted her head, “I’ve eaten. But I know you haven’t.” She stood and offered him her hand, “Come, let’s see if they left you anything.”   

He didn’t want to. The thought of food was repulsive. The thought of being around others was the same. Yet somehow, he knew if he refused that his older sister would stay with him. He couldn’t sentence her to that. Instead, he gave her a thin smile, took her hand, and went to join the others.  

As they went down the hill towards the little tree that held what was left of their group, Arrosh could see laughing faces as Prince Corin’s arms stretched out in dramatic fashion, pieces of a story floating on the wind. Something about a bear. He paused for a moment, trying to find a happy face. Or one that gave nothing away even. Aravis stopped with him, staying by him. He didn’t deserve such kindness.  

“Arrosh!” Sir Morri’s voice suddenly called, light and kindly, “I saved your food for you!” He waved Arrosh over and, as he approached, offered the thin bread with a strip of meat on top, “I had to fight off not only Grethlas but Fesh as well in its defense.”   

It was a good effort. An effort that Arrosh couldn’t afford to let down. If he did, it would bring his heartbreak to this happy bubble in a broken world, infecting it beyond cure.  

He took the food, giving his best grin, “Thank you, for your service, Sir Morri. I fear I don’t know how I shall ever repay you. May the sun be ever bright in your eyes, and the moon gleam even in your darkest of nights. But, as the proverbs say, ‘Words are wind and speeches folly when up against the rock of true justice.’.” If he could make Iliz laugh after he’d been beaten near to the last thread of his life, he could pretend with these people as well.  

Sitting beside the man, he set the meat aside and pulled the bread in half, then handed the other half back to the knight. The young man didn’t need any prompting but rather took the bread, broke it in half again, and handed it to Arrosh, a glint in his eye. Arrosh tried not to frown, was this some barbarian tradition he had yet to hear of? He broke the piece in half again, handing it to Morri. This continued for a time back and forth, until there was only a crumb left. In the meantime, the rest of the group looked on, various different smiles of amusement adorning their faces.  

Finally, at the last crumb, Morri held it up, smiled, and ate it. Nodding in a respectful manner at his fellow companion.  

Arrosh frowned, “What,” He shook his head, “I’m sorry, what was that?” He couldn’t help himself.  

Morri looked at him seriously, “It’s our way. When one gives the honor of breaking bread, it must go on until it can no longer be broken. You gave me the blessing of the last piece and I am grateful.” He popped one of the left-over halves in his mouth, chewing slowly.  

Looking around Arrosh saw nodding heads, their faces stoic. He shook his head, barbarians and their unnatural ways. In Calormen, the half would have been refused until Arrosh had insisted at least four times or had given up. Not... whatever that was.  

Before they could descend into silence, he raised his eyebrows over at Fesh. “Now, Miss Fesh, I can believe Grethlas would make an attempt at my meal, being a sailor and all.” He shot said sailor a grin to show he meant no harm, “But you, madam, to make advances on my small, meager portion of food? It is a hard thing. I would never have thought it of you.”  

The pretty young woman colored a bright red, looking down as she stammered, “I did no such thing! Morri was simply making fun.”  

It felt as though he were held underwater, the pressure to act and be bright was suffocating. Any moment he was sure they would see through his disguise, poking at it. Yet, they didn’t. They watched on in amusement at the antics of a drowning man. Tash willing, they wouldn’t look closer and see that it was simply thrashing.  

“Such an honorable man? Impossible.” Arrosh shook his head in mock solemnity, “I’m sure you fought well, it’s not your fault your brother bested you. For your troubles.” He broke the first half of his bread and handed it to her, to which a slight smile crossed her features.  

She broke it in half and handed the larger half to him. Arrosh sighed. Not again.  

Chapter Text

Xx Arrosh xX

Water enveloped him nearly to the shoulders, its warmth was disconcerting. Mayhaps if it were simply just warm water it wouldn’t have been as such. But there was that slick feeling of the soap in the water, the petals which stuck to his chest, each petal seemed to let off an aroma strong enough for a field of flowers. It was as though he were a soup made in pretend by the children at home; stolen boiling water from the pot to put in a little cup of their own, an unknown array of bramble to be mixed in. It left him on edge, gripping the side of the tub with one arm while he scrubbed at himself with his other, teeth grit against the sensation. His stomach wound was red and angry, the pain took his breath when he tried to wash it. 

It wasn’t the first bath he’d had before. He must have had one as a child in the time before Aravis had left. It was more the matter of remembering it – not that he remembered much of that time. There had also been something similar in Anvard. The difference was that, in Anvard, he hadn’t known what to do. He’d simply used the water like an overgrown basin, standing outside it as he used its contents to wash. Here in Tashbaan, the ambassador’s servant had taken one look at Arrosh and understood. With only a light note of disgust, he explained how he was to use the tub and that he would return in a half hour with clothes for him. Arrosh almost wished he hadn’t been told so he could use it the same way he had before. Spending much of his life by the coast had helped him learn to swim but that was a far cry from sitting in a pot of almost hot water. 

He and the rest of the party had arrived at the gates of the estate mere hours ago just past midday. Upon Aravis and Corin being announced, they were allowed entry and brought to the ambassador, Trunin, without delay. Trunin had greeted them with a deep bow, taking the queen’s hand to kiss it, expressing his concerns over their manner of arrival. Before anything could be said by either queen or prince, he insisted that they all, “Bathe, eat, and be made comfortable.” Everyone had soon been brought to a room and were told that the ambassador would meet with them for the meal. 

When the day before had slowly begun its descent into night, the group had secured a couple rooms at an inn with the money Arrosh had won and the mouse had slipped out to discover the fate of Iliz. Her tag written somewhere in the depths of a book or scroll. 

Dirt and brambles catching at his clothes. The painfully slow progress towards the traveling slave camp, men standing in various places to guard against potential robbers or rival traders. Where would Iliz be? After what he’d done, he’d be hunted down soon. He had to find her, discover her tag, and be away. He’d come back for her. He would. His plan would work. He’d promised her. 

Arrosh closed his eyes against the memory, his throat tight. It hadn’t been easy to get to her then and at the time felt like doing the impossible. Except it looked like child’s play compared to what other lengths he’d gone to so far. If he hadn’t understood that stealing her away would have ended in them both being hung, he would have wished he had escaped with her right then. The Calormene judges did not take kindly to such matters. 

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to rejoice when Zeepijeet had come back with the news that his little sister was indeed alive. He couldn’t allow himself that hope. Not after the agony of the first failure. She had been part of a group sold or sent to Zardashi’s sister company near Doorn, one of the Lone Islands. Arrosh knew nothing of the island, but the royals had seemed shocked at the mention of the place. They’d said that it was a Narnian territory and slavery had been banned for centuries. Which meant that Zardashi also dabbled in a form of piracy and his ships would be full of men who knew that, if they were caught, they would receive heavy punishments or death. Such knowledge made for dangerous men. 

A soft knock lifted Arrosh from his thoughts, as he looked up a voice came, “Your clothes, master.” 

Xx Aravis xX

Aravis walked down the halls, Corin just behind her, followed by the rest of the party. The master servant ahead lead them towards the dining room. After the death of King Lune, Cor had gone to visit Trunin and to confirm the continued agreement between Archenland and the Calormene nation. Ram had become worryingly sick just before and Aravis had stayed behind to care for him. Thus, she had only met the ambassador at the funeral for her father-in-law and read his bi-monthly reports. His words had always been direct and to the point with little to add. In person, however, she recalled a man whose mannerisms were more of a charismatic nature, a grin that put you at ease and a pleasant voice. Good traits for an ambassador. It was better when the one negotiating trading and inter-country relations was easy to interact with. 

Her clothes moved like liquid about her, its soft fabric a kiss against her freshly cleaned skin. How good it felt to be washed and in new clothing! The bath had been heaven. The queen couldn’t recall the last time it had been so long she’d gone without bathing. Probably the time when she fled to Narnia all those years ago. It wasn’t clear when her next one would be either. There was hope yet. Surely they would be able to get to Doorn before she was sold. If not, they’d be able to find her again. 

Aravis took a steadying breath. She wouldn’t think about the possibility of never finding the girl. Nor would she contemplate how long they would be able to travel across the world to track her down. Cor was likely worried and in need of support in his endeavors searching for the Narnian monarchs. Unless they had already been found, which was the hope. In that case, it may be that Edmund and Lucy or Susan had decided to visit until Aravis returned. Poor Ram would be wondering too. He’d miss their story time before bed. 

No, she couldn't be thinking like that. Aslan preserve them, they would get on a ship to Doorn by tomorrow and, with the islands so close, get to Iliz within three days. 

The servant opened the doors to the hall, announcing them in a solemn voice. Trunin rose from his seat, the one to the left of the table, and spread his hands wide, “Welcome! I am most pleased! Come, come and sit!” 

The ambassador met them, took Aravis’ hand with a bow and lead her to the head of the grand table. His hands were soft and a little pudgy, stained in places with dark ink. His clothes were not overly opulent but still conveyed his station, his slipper shod feet were quiet on the marble floor. He looked as Aravis thought a kindly, new grandfather might with graying hair and a full beard in a similar style to that of the Calormenes. 

They sat down, Corin to her right, Trunin to her left, and the rest filed down in no particular order. Trunin brought his hands together and said, his eyes warm and kind, “While I am most curious as to what has brought your majesties to my door, and in such a fashion, I don’t wish you to perish from hunger. Please, let us eat and you can tell all soon enough.” 

Food was placed before them, delicacies of Calormen of which she hadn’t eaten since her childhood. Corin set to without a second thought and Aravis was not far behind, though in a much more dignified manner. Glancing at the rest of the party, she noted the gaping faces of the others with them. It was likely, the Queen realized with a shock, that none had ever eaten anything as such. There was lobster in a spiced sauce, goose stuffed with sweet almonds and dried fruit, chicken liver with rice in a sauce of onions and raisins, and several other dishes besides. Arrosh almost seemed afraid to touch anything, much less eat. 

“Please, dear guests,” Trunin gestured to the others, noting their hesitance, “Eat!” Turning to Aravis he apologized, “I am truly sorry, your majesty, this is far from the best, but it was what we had on short notice. If I had known of your coming,” He trailed off, waving his hand, “But that is no matter!” 

Aravis swallowed a bite of her food, “The food is quite good, Ambassador Trunin. I thank you for making it available in such haste and good graces.” She saw that the others had started to eat, various expressions of surprise and pleasure crossing their features. Looking to Corin, she said, “Corin, would you please, tell our host why we are here?” Despite having slept some at the inn before coming here, she was still tired and hadn’t gotten to eat nearly as much as her brother in-law had. 

Corin explained how they had come there and why, keeping the details short and succinct. Which was exactly why she had asked him. Trunin grew shocked and serious in turn as the tale was told.  

At the end of the story, Trunin shook his head in sympathy, “By Aslan, I’m glad you’ve even made it this far! A shipwreck is a serious matter indeed.” He took a bite of his food, seeming to think. Upon finishing, he leaned forward, his face open with earnest eyes as he looked between Aravis and Corin, “How may I be of service, your majesty? You have whatever resources I have at your disposal.” 

“For which you will be thanked upon our safe arrival home,” Aravis inclined her head to him, “We are in need of a ship and crew to take us to Doorn, it’s where we believe Iliz has gone.” 

The ambassador nodded thoughtfully, his grey beard bobbing up and down, “Yes, yes. I have one ship at my disposal for which you are most welcome to. Traveling clothes for you both and your servants, food for the journey to Doorn and then to Archenland, coin for the girl. Yes, yes.” He stroked his beard, “If it pleases your majesty, I will take this afternoon to prepare what is needed for your journey and I believe you will be able to leave in the morning.” 

“Thank you, Trunin,” Corin dipped his head lightly towards the other man, “Our man at arms, Morri, who stayed in his rooms to rest,” He gestured towards the doors, “Has been wounded quite badly. Would it be possible to get him a doctor?” 

A light frown graced the aging man’s features, “Of course! Of course! I do apologize for not sending for one sooner.” Casting his eyes about as though more injuries may arrive upon inspection, he asked, “Are there any others injured? Again, I deeply apologize. I should have thought -” 

“It’s quite alright, Trunin.” Aravis raised her hand with a graceful smile, “It is not your fault.” She looked to Arrosh, “My brother has taken a wound that I should like a doctor to inspect.” Arrosh frowned at this but didn’t say anything. 

Trunin also looked to Arrosh, “So you’re the young brother who traveled across the sea to find help for your youngest sister and have come all this way back to find her. 

The young brother in question ducked his head, “Yes, oh my host.” 

The older man leaned forward, “I commend you, young man, the lengths one will go for family is an admirable thing.” 

Arrosh bowed his head some, “I thank you, oh my host.” 

Xx Fesh xX

“Do you think he’ll be alright, sir?” Fesh fretted with her hands, watching as the doctor straightened from his inspection. Morri was pale, his face splotched with red marks and the scraggly beard he hadn’t bothered to shave was still there, unlike the other men in the group. He’d confessed to her that it had been difficult for him to even have the energy to attempt washing much less shave. 

“He has a fever, I fear.” The man answered as he went to his bag, “I have herbs here that will help.” He pressed his lips together, “In terms of the wounds themselves, it’s not the leg wound that I fear for but his arm. I think it was not set right and hasn’t been healing properly. It is likely that he will lose full use of that arm.” He brought out a brown paper package of herbs, “However, he must get through this fever first. Make a strong brew of this and have him drink it, soak a cloth in it and press it to the leg wound as well.” 

Fesh set her jaw and nodded, taking the herbs, “Thank you, sir.” She glanced at her brother, who was fitfully sleeping, “Will, will his arm cause any concerns in the near future? We are to be traveling on a ship soon.” He could almost walk on his leg now, though he still used the crutch as help. What would they do when they got home? He couldn’t serve the crown as a knight with a lame arm. They would be destitute. Her maid salary didn’t make nearly enough. If she would even have a salary when she came back. She had run away after all. Tears started to tighten her throat, clouding her vision for a moment. What ever would they do? 

“He should be fine to travel.” The doctor answered, “But he must rest, do no work, and keep drinking water. The sea air and sun may be good for him, so he can go on the deck for a short time but do keep him in bed as much as possible.” 

Rest. He just had to rest. Fesh nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. He would be fine. He just had to rest. 

A soft knock sounded at the door, “Come in,” She managed, her voice cracked with the trapped emotion. 

The door opened with Arrosh popping his head in, his comely dark hair falling into his eyes, “I was told to go to the doctor and that he was in here?” He looked over to the doctor. 

The doctor beckoned for him to come over, his shoulders relaxing some, his lip gave a subtle downturn, “Come, boy.”  

As Arrosh came forward, the older man tutted and grabbed him by the shoulder to bring him closer to his bag faster. He spoke rapidly, presumably in the Calormene tongue, looking into Arrosh’s eyes and mouth. When Arrosh answered, he sniffed and continued speaking but grabbed at the young man’s shirt.  

Arrosh held it down firmly, saying something else in a tense voice, and it was then that Fesh realized that she was staring. Turning away, she went to sit by her brother. The doctor presumably looked at Arrosh’s wound and went to his bag, pulling out another package. This one a tin. 

“Take this, apply it to the cut, and don’t waste it, boy.” The doctor all but smacked Arrosh upside the head. He turned to Fesh, gave a small bow and a pleasant smile, “May you and your brother have pleasant travels, oh good lady.” Before Fesh could reply he was out the door. She frowned and looked to Arrosh. What was that about? 

Arrosh shook his head, “A man without manners is as one who lets a mad donkey into a pottery shop.” He looked to Morri and sat in the chair next to Fesh, “What is the news?” 

“He has a fever, the herbs should help with that. But,” Fesh stopped herself, unsure if she could continue. She didn’t want to cry in front of Arrosh or burden him with her troubles. 

Arrosh shifted his gaze to her instead of Morri, “But?” 

“But,” She drew in even breaths, focused on the task of not crying, “But he may never have full use of his broken arm again.” She kept her eyes on her brother. 

A warm, calloused hand went over hers, “Morri is a strong man, I wouldn’t count him out just yet.”  

At the touch, Fesh knew she the tears would escape. Looking down, she put her other hand over his and nodded, “Yes, I’m sure you’re right.” Quietly, she blinked away her tears, though a few escaped to her chagrine. 

With a soft squeeze, Arrosh withdrew his hand and stood, “I have to go see Aravis but if you need someone to sit with just send word.” His smile was soft. 

“I will.” She tried to return his smile as he left. 

“Can I wake up now?” Morri cracked open an eye, despite the words they were still heavy with fatigue. 

“You devil, how long have you been awake?” Fesh asked, coloring some. Though, in truth, she wasn’t sure why. 

“Long enough to hear you think I’m going to be a cripple and the queen’s brother pretend I’m not going to be.” He gave a tired grin, his eyes drooping again, “At least someone has faith in me. Maybe you’re right to be mooning over him.” 

“Rest, you ridiculous man,” Fesh sniffed, though she could feel the heat creeping up her neck all the more, “I’m going to call for some water, hot water too, and then you’ll drink this tea. I hope it tastes dreadful.” 

Morri smirked even as he fell back asleep but didn’t deign to reply. 

Xx Cor xX

“It pains me to say it,” Cor sat in the meeting tent, five different delegates of Narnia in the circle with him, ”But I fear it may be time to bring out an offer for a reward.” 

The king of Archenland had come to the meeting place just past the Great River and before the Fords of Beruna, a couple days prior. Peridan had met him the day later, and the council representatives had come in just that day.  

No sign of the monarchs had been found and time was stretching on. Without Aravis or Corin to help in Archenland, Cor had been managing things through letters sent by messenger pigeons and ravens as best he could. He couldn’t stay much longer, though. He had a duty to his people first. When Corin returned, he would send his brother out to help. Surely, they would be back any day. He would know if something had happened. Zeepijeet would find a way to get to him if anything went awry. 

The Narnians, with stoic faces all expressed in their various ways, nodded. Old Sallowpad, the raven, gave a throaty croak, “It will give the people hope, in a way. But I fear what may be if there comes a time when our leaders are not found.” 

Cor sighed, it was a matter which none of them wanted to discuss. As ally to Narnia, all he could do was offer advice and hope that that, should the worst happen, the transition of power would be smooth. If a new monarch were to come to power, he would have to return or send Corin to speak on treaties and the like.  

“There is already discontent among a group near Owlwood, near the Northern Marshes,” Inkroot the centaur noted, her voice a somber timbre, “The stars are reluctant to speak of late. A balance is shifting but of what it’s not known.” 

“At worst, the reward will give time to discuss and plan what the best course of action would be. At best, it brings the regents back to us.” Cor put forth. Steeling himself, he continued, “In a week hence, I fear I must take my leave. It would be remise of me to leave my people for so long. When my brother returns from his journey, I will send him to be of service.” 

Lord Peridan inclined his head towards Cor, “We are ever grateful for the services you have given, your majesty, and any you can give in the future as well. I am sure King Peter, King Edmund, Queen Susan, and Queen Lucy, will be pleased to know what a help you’ve been when they return.” The confident tone of his voice seemed to give strength to the others in the room. 

Cor returned the gesture, “It is the least we could do for such good friends.” Quietly he hoped that Peridan was right and that the Pevensies would return. That they would return and swiftly at that. He could feel that trouble was brewing, sure as the sun rose in the morning.