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edenfallingSummary: Aravis attempts to honor Zardeenah in Anvard. This proves slightly more complicated than she might wish, particularly when Cor intrudes. (925 words)
Note: This fic was written for Cotton Candy Bingo Round One in response to the prompt: candles.
[ETA: The ever-so-slightly revised final version is now up on AO3!]
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These bringing with them unknown gods and rites
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Aravis missed the first full moon after her arrival in Anvard, too distracted by learning the ways of a new court and country to mark the night with ritual -- not even so much as a brief phrase of thanks in her own room before surrendering to the embrace of sleep.
The next month, she took a pillar candle, a striker, a small hand mirror, and a bowl of water up to the watchtower from which, if she stood on tiptoe and the air was perfectly clear, she could just catch a glimpse of desert beyond Archenland's rugged southeastern slopes. Calavar was a province of rolling hills, lush with grass, dotted by small woods in stream valleys -- as unlike the great desert as the desert was unlike Archenland -- but still, the desert was under the Tisroc's writ, and no child in Calormen grew up without hearing poems of sand, sun, and hidden water.
The air was not clear that night. Scattered clouds gusted across the face of the moon: Zardeenah dancing with her veils. When Aravis set her basin on the stones of the tower, the wind raised tiny ripples in the water.
Her candle was unlikely to remain lit, assuming it caught at all. She should have brought a lantern instead.
Nonetheless, she knelt and held the striker and candle before her. She squeezed the tongs, scraping the flint across the hardened steel. Tiny sparks jumped from the point of contact, only to sputter and die before touching the candle's wick. She tried again, and a third time. Luck was not with her.
Aravis sighed and sat back on her heels. Perhaps this was punishment for the way she had used the goddess to deceive her father when she planned her escape from her unwanted marriage. The Lion had wounded her in repayment for the hurt her actions had caused her stepmother's maid, but Zardeenah had doubtless chosen to show her displeasure in her own way and time. She wondered what she might do to make amends and regain the Maiden's amity, if not her true and active favor.
As she pondered, light spilled out of the twisting stairwell behind her, splashing in swinging whorls over the paving stones and parapet. Aravis stood and turned, one hand dropping to the knife at her belt.
"Aravis? Is that you?" Cor asked as his golden hair rose into view. "What are you doing all the way up here, alone, after dark?"
Aravis sighed and sat back down on the stones, crossing her legs beneath the heavy skirt of her northern dress. "I was trying to honor the Maiden. The moon is full tonight."
Cor blinked. "Oh. I never knew any of her rites. Just Sokda's and Achadith's -- for the ocean and for luck -- and the four great festivals." He bit his lip, lantern dropping to hang quiet and still by his leg instead of held before him. "I'm not a girl. Should I go?"
"You're not a man, either," Aravis said. "And Zardeenah is a goddess of those who wander in the wilderness, among other things. Anvard isn't a forest, but it's strange enough compared to Calormen that it should count for a while. Join me, if you wish." She gestured toward the stones on the other side of her bowl, mirror, and unlit candle.
Cor sat down, then fidgeted for a bit, adjusting his belt and breeches. "I can't get used to these clothes," he said. "They're tight in the strangest places, and I'm always worried I'll ruin them somehow."
"Peasant," Aravis said. "You have servants to deal with all that."
"Tarkheena," he shot back. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to spare others some trouble."
Aravis sniffed. "Then learn to act and think like a prince instead of a slave. No one will respect you otherwise."
"I'd rather respect myself," Cor said, sounding properly irritated now. "Show me this ritual, if there really is one. I think you're lying about that. I think you only snuck up here to look mysterious."
"And I think that you were spying on me," Aravis snapped. "But certainly, I'll show you one of the thousand things you should have learned, if the peasant who raised you had done his duty to one he claimed within his household. Give me the lantern and hold the mirror to catch both lamplight and moonlight, and focus them down toward the water."
"It's my lantern, not yours. You only brought a candle. You hold the mirror," Cor said.
They glared at each other for a minute.
"Fine," Aravis said at last. She picked up the mirror in her right hand and shifted until she caught the moon's reflection in the glass.
"Good," said Cor, raising the lantern in his left hand and turning it so the light shone unobstructed toward Aravis's hands.
The mingled rays, cold silver and heated gold, struck and shattered on the rippled surface of the water. Aravis watched them dance, let the image snare and strangle her anger until only calm remained. Those who came to Zardeenah with passion in their prayers often found it magnified until what had been a dream became an obsession. She was the lady of the wilderness, both without and within the human heart, and her favor was never safe.
"I don't really think you're a liar," Cor said. "I miss Calormen too."
Aravis reached across the bowl and clasped his offered hand. "We can remember together. Now, repeat after me: Zardeenah, Lady of the Night and Stars--"
Their voices echoed off the castle stones, entwined.
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End of Story
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That is more than enough fic for one day. Now it is time for bed. :-)
Note: This fic was written for Cotton Candy Bingo Round One in response to the prompt: candles.
[ETA: The ever-so-slightly revised final version is now up on AO3!]
---------------------------------------------
These bringing with them unknown gods and rites
---------------------------------------------
Aravis missed the first full moon after her arrival in Anvard, too distracted by learning the ways of a new court and country to mark the night with ritual -- not even so much as a brief phrase of thanks in her own room before surrendering to the embrace of sleep.
The next month, she took a pillar candle, a striker, a small hand mirror, and a bowl of water up to the watchtower from which, if she stood on tiptoe and the air was perfectly clear, she could just catch a glimpse of desert beyond Archenland's rugged southeastern slopes. Calavar was a province of rolling hills, lush with grass, dotted by small woods in stream valleys -- as unlike the great desert as the desert was unlike Archenland -- but still, the desert was under the Tisroc's writ, and no child in Calormen grew up without hearing poems of sand, sun, and hidden water.
The air was not clear that night. Scattered clouds gusted across the face of the moon: Zardeenah dancing with her veils. When Aravis set her basin on the stones of the tower, the wind raised tiny ripples in the water.
Her candle was unlikely to remain lit, assuming it caught at all. She should have brought a lantern instead.
Nonetheless, she knelt and held the striker and candle before her. She squeezed the tongs, scraping the flint across the hardened steel. Tiny sparks jumped from the point of contact, only to sputter and die before touching the candle's wick. She tried again, and a third time. Luck was not with her.
Aravis sighed and sat back on her heels. Perhaps this was punishment for the way she had used the goddess to deceive her father when she planned her escape from her unwanted marriage. The Lion had wounded her in repayment for the hurt her actions had caused her stepmother's maid, but Zardeenah had doubtless chosen to show her displeasure in her own way and time. She wondered what she might do to make amends and regain the Maiden's amity, if not her true and active favor.
As she pondered, light spilled out of the twisting stairwell behind her, splashing in swinging whorls over the paving stones and parapet. Aravis stood and turned, one hand dropping to the knife at her belt.
"Aravis? Is that you?" Cor asked as his golden hair rose into view. "What are you doing all the way up here, alone, after dark?"
Aravis sighed and sat back down on the stones, crossing her legs beneath the heavy skirt of her northern dress. "I was trying to honor the Maiden. The moon is full tonight."
Cor blinked. "Oh. I never knew any of her rites. Just Sokda's and Achadith's -- for the ocean and for luck -- and the four great festivals." He bit his lip, lantern dropping to hang quiet and still by his leg instead of held before him. "I'm not a girl. Should I go?"
"You're not a man, either," Aravis said. "And Zardeenah is a goddess of those who wander in the wilderness, among other things. Anvard isn't a forest, but it's strange enough compared to Calormen that it should count for a while. Join me, if you wish." She gestured toward the stones on the other side of her bowl, mirror, and unlit candle.
Cor sat down, then fidgeted for a bit, adjusting his belt and breeches. "I can't get used to these clothes," he said. "They're tight in the strangest places, and I'm always worried I'll ruin them somehow."
"Peasant," Aravis said. "You have servants to deal with all that."
"Tarkheena," he shot back. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to spare others some trouble."
Aravis sniffed. "Then learn to act and think like a prince instead of a slave. No one will respect you otherwise."
"I'd rather respect myself," Cor said, sounding properly irritated now. "Show me this ritual, if there really is one. I think you're lying about that. I think you only snuck up here to look mysterious."
"And I think that you were spying on me," Aravis snapped. "But certainly, I'll show you one of the thousand things you should have learned, if the peasant who raised you had done his duty to one he claimed within his household. Give me the lantern and hold the mirror to catch both lamplight and moonlight, and focus them down toward the water."
"It's my lantern, not yours. You only brought a candle. You hold the mirror," Cor said.
They glared at each other for a minute.
"Fine," Aravis said at last. She picked up the mirror in her right hand and shifted until she caught the moon's reflection in the glass.
"Good," said Cor, raising the lantern in his left hand and turning it so the light shone unobstructed toward Aravis's hands.
The mingled rays, cold silver and heated gold, struck and shattered on the rippled surface of the water. Aravis watched them dance, let the image snare and strangle her anger until only calm remained. Those who came to Zardeenah with passion in their prayers often found it magnified until what had been a dream became an obsession. She was the lady of the wilderness, both without and within the human heart, and her favor was never safe.
"I don't really think you're a liar," Cor said. "I miss Calormen too."
Aravis reached across the bowl and clasped his offered hand. "We can remember together. Now, repeat after me: Zardeenah, Lady of the Night and Stars--"
Their voices echoed off the castle stones, entwined.
---------------------------------------------
End of Story
---------------------------------------------
That is more than enough fic for one day. Now it is time for bed. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-02 04:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 02:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-02 05:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 02:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-02 07:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 03:10 am (UTC)You cannot spend the first twelve-to-fifteen years of your life (depending on when one sets the twins' birthdate versus the Pevensies' arrival in Narnia) in a country without it shaping the way you see and understand the world. Obviously Shasta felt out of place enough that he jumped at a chance to run away, but before meeting Bree his dreams were firmly fixed on Calormene methods of social advancement, and there's also that lovely moment where he's shocked when Bree doesn't add "may he live forever" when talking about the Tisroc. After that exchange he falls in with whatever Bree says about the north, but I suspect that's partly because escaping to Narnia is a grand adventure, and partly because Bree is his first real friend (and someone he admires) and therefore he takes on Bree's opinions without much examination. It seems likely he'd have some second thoughts in Archenland once things settle down and he realizes just how different his new life and land really are.
I tend to see the Calormene pantheon as having specific areas of influence that often overlap around the edges. So both Sokda and Soolyeh are patrons of horses; Zardeenah helps lost people even though lost=out of place and thus also falls into Achadith's domain; Azaroth and Achadith are associated with war though that's Tash's primary source of power; etcetera. And as with Aslan, the divine is never safe or tame.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-02 09:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-03 02:49 am (UTC)