A Meeting In A Foreign Land
Jun. 27th, 2009 04:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bungakertasRating: PG
Warning(s): None.
Pairing(s): None.
Spoilers: The Horse and His Boy
Summary: In Archenland, Aravis is reunited with her father.
Disclaimer: The Horse and His Boy is the creation of C.S. Lewis and the property of C.S. Lewis Pte. Ltd. No money changed hands and no copyright infringement is intended or implied.
Feedback: All comments are welcome.
Author's Notes: I may have watched Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham recently.
This is set entirely in the book-verse, by the way. I will not reference or lampshade anything from the films. I will admit that I imagine Aravis and Cor as a bit older than Lewis probably did, but that’s it.
*~*~*
The Archenland castle was enormous and quite lovely, but Aravis had found herself very homesick very quickly. The clothes she had been given were lovely, but it took her an inordinate amount of time to work out how to put them on, and where to tie things. And she was still having trouble seeing why the dresses that some women were wearing were in fashion while those of other women were out.
She had the vague feeling most women of this court would react similarly to the women in the Tisroc’s (may he…never mind) palace.
But it was the letter she had dispatched about two weeks after she had arrived that was now cramping her stomach. King Lune had turned out to be one of the nicest men she had ever met, and it made her long for her own father. So she had written him a letter in which she explained the whole truth about everything.
And yesterday they received word that Aravis’ father was coming himself to see her. And would, in fact, be entering this very room in only a few moments.
Being someone who prided herself on her quick thought and intelligent planning in high pressure situations, Aravis had arrived in very little time at the creative and daring plan of stationing herself in the room they called the “Gold Salon” and pacing a hole in one of the castle’s rugs.
A door on the far side opened and in came King Edmund of Narnia. He was visiting with a shipment from the Narnians to help repair damages to the castle that had been sustained in the fight against Rabadash. The damage had been minor, but apparently Queen Susan felt responsible and had insisted on helping.
Aravis was not so nervous as to have forgotten her manners, so she approached the king and curtseyed. “Your majesty.”
He smiled and said, “My lady Aravis.”
Aravis could not smile. If she had not run away from her father’s house, and she and this man had met, he would call her “Tarkheena” and she would only bow to him out of courtesy. “Your majesty,” she said again, quietly.
“Do not stand on ceremony on my account,” he told her with a smile. “I have been informed that these carpets are little used and could do with some wear.”
Aravis barely restrained herself from glaring at him.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I spoke in haste and with no thought.”
“It is nothing, sir,” Aravis replied. She stood for a moment, wringing her hands and trying to think of something to say. One did not stand in silence before a king, but for the life of her she could think of no words.
“My lady,” Edmund said, “I must confess, I did not come on my own. King Lune has asked me to speak with you. He is concerned. Is there anything I could say that would be helpful?”
“No, sir, nothing,” Aravis said, resuming her pacing, trying to think how to capture in words for this Northerner the magnitude of her sins against her father. “I have dishonored my father’s wishes, I have made a fool of him, I have ruined my reputation, I have aided someone in overthrowing the will of the Tisroc, I have—”
“Good and faithful friends,” Edmund interrupted, “who will be with you no matter what your father says. But I do not think he will be as disappointed in you as you fear he shall.”
Aravis turned to the Narnian and found herself unable to resist smiling at the expression on his face.
“There now,” Edmund said with an answering smile. “Courage, my lady.”
Aravis nodded. She was about to reply when the door on the far end of the room opened and there was her father.
Laid eyes on her and froze with an unreadable expression on his face. Aravis forgot King Edmund entirely and after a moment walked towards him.
She stopped before her father and then bent to touch his feet. She pulled her hand to her heart as she stood back up and said, “O my father, may Aslan himself bless you with a thousand blessings, I have wronged you. I have lied to you, stolen from you, fled from your house in secret, caused servants in your household to be beaten unjustly, and brought the name of your family to disgrace within the court of the Tisroc. I beg for your forgiveness, my father, and I am prepared to repay you, if you wish. And if you do not desire to forgive me, I am already in exile from our people, sir, and I can promise to trouble you no further.”
Her father’s face had somehow become even more unreadable as she spoke. The silence between them stretched until it was so heavy Aravis could bear it no longer.
“Oh, please, Father, say something!” she said.
“Are you finished, my daughter?” he asked.
“Yes, Father,” she answered, nodding slightly.
“Know then, O my daughter,” he said, “that although you are correct in all other ways, on the count of disgracing my name before the Tisroc--may he live forever, I must hold you entirely blameless. He has disavowed all support for Rabadash’s action and can therefore have no quarrel with you for your aid of the Prince Cor.”
Aravis nodded.
“As to these other things,” he began.
Aravis focused on not crying.
Her father reached out and laid a hand on the crown of her head. “My daughter, I have sought for word of your safety these many weeks, and your letter to me was as welcome as rain in the desert. Your folly, my child, was your failure to come to me with your objections to this betrothal,” he told her.
This was the last thing Aravis had expected to hear. “Father?”
“My son is dead, Aravis,” he told her. “You are not simply my daughter. You and your younger brother are my only children who still live. Your happiness is more precious to me than all the jewels of Tashbaan. For whatever wrongs you have done me, my daughter, I forgive you with a glad heart.”
Aravis gave up and did start to cry, at which point, her father pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her.
“Peace, my child. Do not be troubled any longer,” he told her. This, of course, just made her cry harder and it was some time before she could stop.
At last, though, she looked up and said, “I do not see the King Edmund.”
“You ignored a king in favor of me?” her father asked. He laughed. “I would council you against such behavior in the future, my dear, no matter how refreshing to my ego it may be.”
“Yes, Father,” she nodded.
“Now, then. I was told, on my way in, that the King Lune has requested my presence at dinner and wishes you to introduce me. The haste in which you left my house, however, caused me to suppose that you had with you no clothes appropriate for a stay in a king’s house. Therefore, I have brought with me as many of your garments and jewels as I could. I hope you shall find something appropriate, although on this matter, I fear my council will be of little use.”
Aravis nodded again. “Yes, Father.”
“However, before I permit you to go again from my sight, I shall command one thing of you. This thing I demand that you shall do, or all the world will seem dark to my eyes,” he said.
“Yes, Father,” Aravis answered, a bit afraid.
He reached out and lifted her chin to face him. “I command that you shall smile, my daughter. I have found you again, after a long search. You are well and alive. Do not be fearful. Today is a day of joy.”
Aravis did smile, mostly out of surprise. She and her father had always gotten on well, but she had thought him strict. She had not expected his forgiveness so quickly. He noted her face with approval and said, “Excellent. I shall see you again in a few moments, now. Be swift, my child.”
Aravis bowed her head and left the room, but as soon she was out of sight of her father, she burst into a run for her room. Her clothes had been brought up by some of the palace servants, and so Aravis shed her Archenlandish clothes and thought for a moment about the clothes her father had brought her. They were very probably unlike anything that had been worn in this court. Indeed, most Archenlanders had probably never seen anything of this sort. She had settled on an outfit in a lovely deep blue with gold embroidery. The skirt she’d picked had heavy beading on the hem. Her shirt was brief, and stopped near the bottom of her rib cage, as was appropriate in the warmer climates of Calavar in Calormen. Over that, would go a matching shawl.
But, even though the shawl would cover most of her exposed skin, this outfit would be almost scandalous in this court. The Archenlanders, although they had been very kind, seemed to frown on almost everything Calormen simply on principle. Cor had gotten into some fights with Corin about it, even. After all, he had grown up entirely in Calormen, too, and so it was not unusual that he and Aravis found the food here unusual or the language awkward or the architecture unattractive.
“I am a Calormen,” Aravis finally said, out loud, “and I shall not be ashamed of it.” She took up her own clothes. After that, she pulled her hair into a bun and set into it the chains and decorations she would wear in the Tisroc’s court, pulled a set of bangles onto her wrists, and added a nose ring as the final touch before she left her room.
One of the servants conducted her to her father who was also dressed in the grand Calormen style, awaiting her outside the Great Hall where they were to dine with the king.
He smiled brilliantly on seeing her. “I believe, my dear, that we shall cause a stir together.”
“My father, where is your wife?” Aravis asked.
“She remained home. My daughter, for things as you endured from her, I must ask you to forgive me,” he said.
“My father, you have wed where you wished. I can not fault you for this. I forgive any fault there may be,” she answered quietly.
“Then, I will give this choice also to you,” he answered. “I shall seek no husband for you, and shall withhold my approval only from dishonorable or disreputable men. I shall not ask you to marry anyone not of your own choosing.”
Aravis smiled. “My father, I thank you.”
“Now then, shall we turn the heads of all our hosts?” he smiled.
He held out his right hand, palm up. Aravis placed her left palm atop it and they entered the Great Hall together.
The room fell quiet and heads turned from everywhere to look at them. Prince Corin and King Edmund both looked almost shocked, but Cor was smiling openly and King Lune blinked but then smiled warmly at Aravis and she knew she’d made the right decision. If the king could accept her as she was, then there was nothing more to it.
They walked forward to the head of the table and swept the two kings grand bows. Aravis than said, “Your majesties, I greet you. King Edmund, I must beg your mercy for my behavior earlier.”
Edmund had recovered himself and had a twinkle in his eye as he said, “My lady, I can not think what you mean.”
Aravis smiled and turned to face her host. “Your very great majesty of Archenland, may you be showered with blessings, I present to you my father, Kidrash Tarkaan, Lord of Calavar in Calormen.”
Warning(s): None.
Pairing(s): None.
Spoilers: The Horse and His Boy
Summary: In Archenland, Aravis is reunited with her father.
Disclaimer: The Horse and His Boy is the creation of C.S. Lewis and the property of C.S. Lewis Pte. Ltd. No money changed hands and no copyright infringement is intended or implied.
Feedback: All comments are welcome.
Author's Notes: I may have watched Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham recently.
This is set entirely in the book-verse, by the way. I will not reference or lampshade anything from the films. I will admit that I imagine Aravis and Cor as a bit older than Lewis probably did, but that’s it.
The Archenland castle was enormous and quite lovely, but Aravis had found herself very homesick very quickly. The clothes she had been given were lovely, but it took her an inordinate amount of time to work out how to put them on, and where to tie things. And she was still having trouble seeing why the dresses that some women were wearing were in fashion while those of other women were out.
She had the vague feeling most women of this court would react similarly to the women in the Tisroc’s (may he…never mind) palace.
But it was the letter she had dispatched about two weeks after she had arrived that was now cramping her stomach. King Lune had turned out to be one of the nicest men she had ever met, and it made her long for her own father. So she had written him a letter in which she explained the whole truth about everything.
And yesterday they received word that Aravis’ father was coming himself to see her. And would, in fact, be entering this very room in only a few moments.
Being someone who prided herself on her quick thought and intelligent planning in high pressure situations, Aravis had arrived in very little time at the creative and daring plan of stationing herself in the room they called the “Gold Salon” and pacing a hole in one of the castle’s rugs.
A door on the far side opened and in came King Edmund of Narnia. He was visiting with a shipment from the Narnians to help repair damages to the castle that had been sustained in the fight against Rabadash. The damage had been minor, but apparently Queen Susan felt responsible and had insisted on helping.
Aravis was not so nervous as to have forgotten her manners, so she approached the king and curtseyed. “Your majesty.”
He smiled and said, “My lady Aravis.”
Aravis could not smile. If she had not run away from her father’s house, and she and this man had met, he would call her “Tarkheena” and she would only bow to him out of courtesy. “Your majesty,” she said again, quietly.
“Do not stand on ceremony on my account,” he told her with a smile. “I have been informed that these carpets are little used and could do with some wear.”
Aravis barely restrained herself from glaring at him.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I spoke in haste and with no thought.”
“It is nothing, sir,” Aravis replied. She stood for a moment, wringing her hands and trying to think of something to say. One did not stand in silence before a king, but for the life of her she could think of no words.
“My lady,” Edmund said, “I must confess, I did not come on my own. King Lune has asked me to speak with you. He is concerned. Is there anything I could say that would be helpful?”
“No, sir, nothing,” Aravis said, resuming her pacing, trying to think how to capture in words for this Northerner the magnitude of her sins against her father. “I have dishonored my father’s wishes, I have made a fool of him, I have ruined my reputation, I have aided someone in overthrowing the will of the Tisroc, I have—”
“Good and faithful friends,” Edmund interrupted, “who will be with you no matter what your father says. But I do not think he will be as disappointed in you as you fear he shall.”
Aravis turned to the Narnian and found herself unable to resist smiling at the expression on his face.
“There now,” Edmund said with an answering smile. “Courage, my lady.”
Aravis nodded. She was about to reply when the door on the far end of the room opened and there was her father.
Laid eyes on her and froze with an unreadable expression on his face. Aravis forgot King Edmund entirely and after a moment walked towards him.
She stopped before her father and then bent to touch his feet. She pulled her hand to her heart as she stood back up and said, “O my father, may Aslan himself bless you with a thousand blessings, I have wronged you. I have lied to you, stolen from you, fled from your house in secret, caused servants in your household to be beaten unjustly, and brought the name of your family to disgrace within the court of the Tisroc. I beg for your forgiveness, my father, and I am prepared to repay you, if you wish. And if you do not desire to forgive me, I am already in exile from our people, sir, and I can promise to trouble you no further.”
Her father’s face had somehow become even more unreadable as she spoke. The silence between them stretched until it was so heavy Aravis could bear it no longer.
“Oh, please, Father, say something!” she said.
“Are you finished, my daughter?” he asked.
“Yes, Father,” she answered, nodding slightly.
“Know then, O my daughter,” he said, “that although you are correct in all other ways, on the count of disgracing my name before the Tisroc--may he live forever, I must hold you entirely blameless. He has disavowed all support for Rabadash’s action and can therefore have no quarrel with you for your aid of the Prince Cor.”
Aravis nodded.
“As to these other things,” he began.
Aravis focused on not crying.
Her father reached out and laid a hand on the crown of her head. “My daughter, I have sought for word of your safety these many weeks, and your letter to me was as welcome as rain in the desert. Your folly, my child, was your failure to come to me with your objections to this betrothal,” he told her.
This was the last thing Aravis had expected to hear. “Father?”
“My son is dead, Aravis,” he told her. “You are not simply my daughter. You and your younger brother are my only children who still live. Your happiness is more precious to me than all the jewels of Tashbaan. For whatever wrongs you have done me, my daughter, I forgive you with a glad heart.”
Aravis gave up and did start to cry, at which point, her father pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her.
“Peace, my child. Do not be troubled any longer,” he told her. This, of course, just made her cry harder and it was some time before she could stop.
At last, though, she looked up and said, “I do not see the King Edmund.”
“You ignored a king in favor of me?” her father asked. He laughed. “I would council you against such behavior in the future, my dear, no matter how refreshing to my ego it may be.”
“Yes, Father,” she nodded.
“Now, then. I was told, on my way in, that the King Lune has requested my presence at dinner and wishes you to introduce me. The haste in which you left my house, however, caused me to suppose that you had with you no clothes appropriate for a stay in a king’s house. Therefore, I have brought with me as many of your garments and jewels as I could. I hope you shall find something appropriate, although on this matter, I fear my council will be of little use.”
Aravis nodded again. “Yes, Father.”
“However, before I permit you to go again from my sight, I shall command one thing of you. This thing I demand that you shall do, or all the world will seem dark to my eyes,” he said.
“Yes, Father,” Aravis answered, a bit afraid.
He reached out and lifted her chin to face him. “I command that you shall smile, my daughter. I have found you again, after a long search. You are well and alive. Do not be fearful. Today is a day of joy.”
Aravis did smile, mostly out of surprise. She and her father had always gotten on well, but she had thought him strict. She had not expected his forgiveness so quickly. He noted her face with approval and said, “Excellent. I shall see you again in a few moments, now. Be swift, my child.”
Aravis bowed her head and left the room, but as soon she was out of sight of her father, she burst into a run for her room. Her clothes had been brought up by some of the palace servants, and so Aravis shed her Archenlandish clothes and thought for a moment about the clothes her father had brought her. They were very probably unlike anything that had been worn in this court. Indeed, most Archenlanders had probably never seen anything of this sort. She had settled on an outfit in a lovely deep blue with gold embroidery. The skirt she’d picked had heavy beading on the hem. Her shirt was brief, and stopped near the bottom of her rib cage, as was appropriate in the warmer climates of Calavar in Calormen. Over that, would go a matching shawl.
But, even though the shawl would cover most of her exposed skin, this outfit would be almost scandalous in this court. The Archenlanders, although they had been very kind, seemed to frown on almost everything Calormen simply on principle. Cor had gotten into some fights with Corin about it, even. After all, he had grown up entirely in Calormen, too, and so it was not unusual that he and Aravis found the food here unusual or the language awkward or the architecture unattractive.
“I am a Calormen,” Aravis finally said, out loud, “and I shall not be ashamed of it.” She took up her own clothes. After that, she pulled her hair into a bun and set into it the chains and decorations she would wear in the Tisroc’s court, pulled a set of bangles onto her wrists, and added a nose ring as the final touch before she left her room.
One of the servants conducted her to her father who was also dressed in the grand Calormen style, awaiting her outside the Great Hall where they were to dine with the king.
He smiled brilliantly on seeing her. “I believe, my dear, that we shall cause a stir together.”
“My father, where is your wife?” Aravis asked.
“She remained home. My daughter, for things as you endured from her, I must ask you to forgive me,” he said.
“My father, you have wed where you wished. I can not fault you for this. I forgive any fault there may be,” she answered quietly.
“Then, I will give this choice also to you,” he answered. “I shall seek no husband for you, and shall withhold my approval only from dishonorable or disreputable men. I shall not ask you to marry anyone not of your own choosing.”
Aravis smiled. “My father, I thank you.”
“Now then, shall we turn the heads of all our hosts?” he smiled.
He held out his right hand, palm up. Aravis placed her left palm atop it and they entered the Great Hall together.
The room fell quiet and heads turned from everywhere to look at them. Prince Corin and King Edmund both looked almost shocked, but Cor was smiling openly and King Lune blinked but then smiled warmly at Aravis and she knew she’d made the right decision. If the king could accept her as she was, then there was nothing more to it.
They walked forward to the head of the table and swept the two kings grand bows. Aravis than said, “Your majesties, I greet you. King Edmund, I must beg your mercy for my behavior earlier.”
Edmund had recovered himself and had a twinkle in his eye as he said, “My lady, I can not think what you mean.”
Aravis smiled and turned to face her host. “Your very great majesty of Archenland, may you be showered with blessings, I present to you my father, Kidrash Tarkaan, Lord of Calavar in Calormen.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2009-06-27 10:08 pm (UTC)One thing, though: wouldn't Kidrash add the whole 'live forever' phrase after mentioning Tisroc's name?
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Date: 2009-06-27 10:30 pm (UTC)...Darn, you are right about the "live forever" bit. I'd meant to fix that. I shall get it now, though. Thanks muchly.
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Date: 2009-06-27 10:12 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2009-07-04 12:41 am (UTC)