Chapter Text
Once, long ago in the land of Narnia, before the Pevensie children arrived, and indeed before the White Witch was anything more than a sparkle on the horizon, there lived a king.
King Emiden was descended in an unbroken line from King Frank and Queen Helen themselves, he had ruled with grace and kindness over the land of Narnia and it's inhabitants for over sixty years, and as he sat on his throne one late summer's day, he knew his time was drawing near. He was not upset by the notion, on the contrary, he looked upon death as one looks upon sleep after a particularly exhausting day; a welcome relief from one's labors. But still, a furrowed brow carved itself across his aging features. For he had one decision more to make before he could indulge in that eternal sleep, one that he dreaded more with each passing day. Once that haunted him from every look of his courtiers, every whisper hastily stifled when he entered a room, every echo down an empty hallway. He must name an heir.
"Oh, Jelvi," he whispered to the golden bands of sunlight upon the marble floor, "if only, my love, you were still here. I need your wisdom now more than ever." Hearing no reply from the light, he slowly heaved himself off the throne. As if his movement was a signal, a young faun trotted forward.
"Here, sire, place your hand upon my shoulder."
Emiden quirked a wry smile.
"Do I look that weak, boy?"
The faun started, a worried expression creeping over his face.
"... no, my liege. But I," the faun struggled for breath for a moment, "I am duty bound to offer assistance to your majesty. My, my father required that promise of me before I was sent here."
Emiden's eyes were soft as he looked at the young faun. So young, yet so full of youthful assurance, a state which had passed him by many years ago. He smiled.
"Lad, I am not upset with you. You're Midden's boy, aren't you? Latus?"
The faun, Latus, nodded. Emiden gave a rare chuckle of laughter.
"Leave it to that old meddling fool to set his child to the same task he undertook." Seeing Latus's expression deepen, he caught the faun's eyes. "Lad, your father was one of my dearest courtiers, he and I have been friends since he first came here to court. I am honored he sent you here in his place, even if he seems to have bound you to the same over-protection he himself practiced when it came to my well being. No matter." Emiden slowly stepped down and availed himself of Latus's proffered shoulder. He sighed. Oh for the days of striding through these halls freely. "The portrait gallery, please."
Emiden and Latus entered the gallery as Emiden was wont to do, bowing first to the images of King Frank and Queen Helen, then ambling slowly down the hall until he came to the last of the portraits; his own. With trembling fingers, he caressed the edge of Queen Jelvindori's painting, frame worn and tarnished from where his hands again and again had brushed the gilded frame after she was taken from him.
"Too soon, too soon my love. But in just a while, I trust Aslan that I shall see your face again."
If Latus saw a tear work its way down his King's face, he made no mention of it. Emiden turned, and faced the sprawling tapestry on the other side of the corridor. A massive tree had been embroidered on its face, growing larger and larger with each passing generation. His eyes traced the thin golden stitch work that connected every king or queen of Narnia since the day of creation right down to where it ended at a leaf outlined in gold and bearing his name. The line mostly passed from father to son or perhaps daughter, but he could see the departures here and there when the line passed to another relative. He smiled. His own grandfather had been one of those departures, given the throne by his uncle when his cousins proved unsatisfactory as leaders.
"And it may yet happen again," he murmured to no one in particular, steadying himself on Latus's shoulder as he gazed at the branches stemming beyond his name. Only two leaves were there; Emeliv, his son, gone these past 30 years after a routine patrol had placed him and his small band of men straight into a Calormen ambush, and Emmadori, his daughter who had married a prince of Archenland. She and her only child had perished in childbirth, to the mourning of both countries.
Emiden tore his eyes away from their names before he lost his composure, and instead gazed upon the line of his brother, Emiite. He snorted derisively. He had no time for Emiite's offspring or their children. Of Emiite's children, one was already gone, one had grown to have a blood lust for battle that Emiden could not bear, and the third, Elmrath, was the most pompous little ass the world had ever known and had the pride of a peacock to match it. Of their children, all were fairly worthless and had shown no signs of being the kind of king or queen Emiden felt he could safely entrust with Narnia. Except...
He gazed slowly at Elmrath's youngest. She... ah, but it was no use. She had rejected her birthright before she was even of age to do so. His hand trembled as he reached out and touched her leaf.
"Aslan, as you love your country, help us. I fear for the future of the people and creatures you love so dearly." He shook, his strength failing.
"Sire?" Latus had worry written all over his young face.
"My chambers, if you please, lad. I need to rest before dinner."
"Of course, sire."
Stealing one final glance at the tree, Emiden's frame bowed and he leaned heavily on Latus the entire way back to his chambers.