But a good sort of pain

'It was painful, but a good sort of pain. You know, like when you pluck a thorn from your skin?' Eustace Scrubb, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

The pain was lancing and great. It tore up her spine as the lash was dropped with a quick, efficient movement. She gasped in pain as it fell.

Aravis jerked awake. Her forehead covered in sweat as she shuddered at the dream.

It had been so real.

And it had been her fault.

Unbidden, tears sprang to her eyes as she pushed the bed clothes aside and walked towards the doors of her balcony. The night air was a welcome breath after the mugginess of her chamber. But it did nothing to ease her tears as she wept for her slave girl.

How could she have felt herself superior to anyone?

With a trembling hand, she reached back to touch the bandages that covered her own wounds. Aslan's words returned to her as though he were speaking them beside her ... "You needed to know what it felt like."

Gently touching a bandage, she flinched at the pain that shot up her back and nodded. She had needed to know. She had needed to realise the consequence of her actions.

She wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks and swallowed the lump in her throat. Aslan had known how necessary it was that she saw her actions in their true light.

As the wind blew, it made the curtains billow and she glanced around at her room.

The girl named Nardina had led her into the light and airy chamber that still managed to seem cosy, with its over-stuffed arm chairs and bright tapestries. Tall, elegant windows looked down over the rolling meadow that lay beneath the castle walls and moat, with the verdant forest spreading out beyond. It was furnished to a similar level of finery that her own chambers in her father's house had possessed, but in a completely different way.

She had been brought up to expect splendour such as this, but when it had come down to it, she had proven completely unworthy.

It was Shasha ... Cor who had run to help her. It was Cor who had thought her behaviour was unfair towards the servant girl.

Aravis touched her back once more and finally understood. It had taken Aslan's explanation for her to grasp the truth ... it had been the only way that she could change and understand how wrong she had been.

Cor had been raised by a fisherman who had hated and abused him from the moment he was born. Whereas she had been raised in luxury and felt assured of her father's love throughout her life. She had thought herself better because of her noble birth, but in the end it was Cor who had far more courage and nobility than she.

Slowly, she felt herself calming as the guilt grew to understanding.

She had done a dreadful thing. But it was done and Aslan had taught her through it.

The wounds would heal. Time would pass and she would learn.

Silently, she sat upon a seat and looked up to the star-filled sky, whispering a silent promise to Aslan.

"Thank you for showing me the truth of my deeds. Please help me to learn from this and think about how my actions will affect others in the future. I know I won't always get it right, but thank you for teaching me. May I learn something of Cor's courage and nobility. Thank you, Aslan."

Feeling strangely light, Aravis rose and returned to her bed. With a light heart, she fell in to a deep and peaceful sleep.

Author's note:

This sort of wrote itself – it's been buzzing around my head for months now, but I wanted to explore Aravis' perspective at this point in The Horse and his Boy.

I was struck tonight by how God teaches us hard lessons sometimes, and I thought that this moment was a perfect example of his patient, loving instruction. Proverbs 3 v 11 & 12 was a little piece of inspiration as well.