Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! I found this the other day, polished it up as best I could, and decided - why not? This is pre-Last Battle.
Politically, the world is in chaos. He knows this, but with the weight of the land falling on his shoulders, what can he do? His closest advisors give him advice that would be sound in any other circumstance, but when Calormene soldiers are invading his borders, their words are hollow. He wonders, fleetingly, why there are no Calormene refugees, but knows that the desert is guarded and anyone attempting to flee is murdered. There has been only one successful escape, and for generations since, the Calormenes have guarded against it happening again.
Jewel watches him, uncertain. In the noble Unicorn's heart there is nothing but strength, but humans are fragile beings and his friend is so very young. I do not want to be the last King of Narnia, he had said, and Jewel is powerless to help him against so dreadful a prospect.
Tirian is not a coward, yet he defends a country that has been brought low. They have but few spears, and no army to speak of. Disastrous dealings with Ettins and Calormenes, forged over long years by pragmatic kings, have shrunk his borders and atrophied his people's minds. In his heart, he knows: their time has come. He almost hopes against hope that the magic portal to the Shining Land of War Drobe in Spare Oom might be open. But that magical land is merely a myth, a deus ex machina, for unlikely heroes to emerge at the most trying times.
Aslan sang this world into being, and it will not be long before he hears the Lion's song again, unmaking Narnia and returning beasts to earth, and earth to barren hilltops, and hilltops to broken and desolate wastes, and wastes to darkness.
In the midst of his gloominess, a light shines.
Aslan has come to Narnia.