In the book (Prince Caspian) I noticed that the fate of Miraz's son was unresolved. Some clever person in the film decided to wrap it up by getting him and Prunaprismia to walk through the door to the other world. This doesn't happen in the book.

This is based in the world of the books and set between the Voyage of the Dawn Treader and the Silver Chair – with references to books 4, 5 and 6.

The land of Narnia and (nearly) all of the citizens found lurking in the fan fiction are the work of C. S. Lewis. I created Hartian from an original idea by the aforementioned author and a few other characters are entirely my own. I'm not making any profit out of this whatsoever. Ok? Jolly good...

Prince Hartian, Crown Prince of Narnia

Sometimes I wonder if they have any idea what it's like to be reminded each day that you're the son of a murderer? To know that you live only due to the grace and goodwill of a man who is scared to look into your eyes, lest he find the shadow of his uncle – the man who nearly murdered him - that he thinks lurks there. I see him stare at me, sometimes, and I see the mighty King Caspian X flinch when he catches the gaze of his cousin.

I was brought up to respect the man like a father, or an elder brother. I was brought up knowing that, simultaneously, I was almost responsible for his death and that he had saved my life. It was not a comfortable thought – that I ought to owe so much to him from events that I had no recollection of whatsoever. I also knew that if he were to produce no children I would be king.

Caspian, or rather, his wife, is producing a child at this very moment.

Of course, I can vividly remember the last time the queen fell pregnant. I was eight years old and had no real concept of what it meant for my future. I remember the fuss and the buzz that built up around court, the ambassadors who milled around her and the king and the occasional glance at me. No doubt inquiring as to my future, I realised later. What will happen to me now?

I remember later, the moments of silence, of waiting and adults pacing the rooms impatiently. I remember the midwives and doctors – the best in Narnia – emerge out of the queens chambers silently, shaking their heads. A baby had been born, a girl, but she was too weak to survive more than a few seconds in this harsh world. I don't blame her. If I had the choice – knowing what life had in store for me - I would never have emerged out of my mother's womb.

I used to know that I was the crown prince, no matter how hated my father was, I was the rightful successor to the throne of Narnia, but as time has passed I realise that the throne itself means little. I don't want to rule the country or wield power. I just want acceptance. I am the crown prince of Narnia – but I highly doubt that my position will last much longer.

How much longer?

I cannot bear waiting. I ought to learn patience, yet, I cannot see the point in doing so. I want to know.

King Caspian X, king of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands

I never know exactly what to make of my cousin. Or, for that matter, what I ought to make of him. I want, with all my heart, to see him as a man in his own right, and to stop always thinking of him as 'Miraz's son', because the more I do, the less he becomes Hartian and the more he becomes a shadow of Miraz. And there are enough of Miraz's shadows lying around to last ten generations.

At first it was easier to ignore his relation, Hartian has a far fairer complexion, from his mother, and his feature are not so sharp and cruel. They almost have a rounded, gentle look to them, that I can sometimes recognise when I catch my own eyes in the mirror. But I've seen him angry, throwing childish tantrums first and sulks later, and I've seen the way his eyes turn dark on the inside. Perhaps I judge too harshly. Perhaps I did not judge harshly enough.

But I know that Hartian is the least of my worries.

My heart is with my wife, at this moment in time. My heart and my soul and ever other part of me that cries out to be beside her when I know I cannot. I am useless and all I can do is sit and listen to the faint cries from the room above me. What wouldn't I give for a son? A daughter, even, a child of our own so that my blood may continue to rule Narnia in a fair and just way for generations.
There is a polite, yet slightly demanding knock on the door. I tense, waiting for news of my child. I want to know that my wife, my queen, will be safe. She is the daughter of a star and was meant to shine – not endure pain such as she must be experiencing now. I was not so scared the first time, but one doctor confided in me later that she had almost lost her fragile grasp on life.

"Enter," I invite them in, apprehensively.

To my disappointment, Hartian walks through the door. He gives a shallow bow, which I acknowledge with a short nod.

"Your majesty," he addresses me formally, "I wondered if you had any news of...?"

"I'm afraid not, cousin," I reply, shaking my head, a suspicious part of me that I have always tried to suppress poses questions about the cause for his concern, "Aslan willing, it will not be long now" I add and fall silent. We do not know what to say to each other and we drop into our respective reveries. I know not what it is that Hartian is thinking about. I only care to wonder briefly. I care about my queen.

There is another knock on the door, and, without waiting for a response, Trumpkin enters. I allow myself a small smile at the dwarf – I need his solid nature at times like this – but as soon as I see his expression I instantly fear the worse.

"What has happened?" I demand, perhaps a little too fiercely for he seems to shrink a little.

"I bring no news of the queen, but we've just had some... alarming reports from the Lone Islands." He says, gravely, and I groan inwardly. This is not a good time – he must know that, and this must therefore be of great importance.

"What news?"

"There has been word from the mer-people of an uprising amongst the men." Trumpkin appears a little cautious and I notice that his eyes glance in the direction of Hartian.

"I have always been under the impression that the men of the Lone Islands were peaceful and welcomed the return of Old Narnia." I reply, concerned, although a little distracted "I visited them only two years ago, surely..."

"There are some there that would see animal dumb and men the creatures to rule above all. There are some that call for a return of the days of your uncle."

"No part of Narnia shall ever return to the way of my childhood. Those who wish otherwise may find my response on the edge of my sword!" I speak passionately about the cause that has always stirred my heart and made me the man I am today.

"Perhaps this is not the best time, but what shall we have done with them?" Trumpkin enquires, but I see Hartian look as though he wants to speak.

Prince Hartian, crown prince of Narnia

"What about Duke Bern?" I raise my voice after being ignored the duration of our conversation, "if I remember him correctly, it would not be in his nature to let an uprising like this go unchecked. He has many loyal followers there too, has he not?"

"Of course, Hartian!" exclaims my cousin, with emotion in his voice, "this is not a good time for me. I find myself incapable of thinking straight. What of Duke Bern, Trumpkin?"

"We hear he is very much a prisoner in his own house. Poor man,"

"But they have kept him alive?" the hopeful tone in my cousins voice is apparent. I almost want to scorn at it. Something about it seems so... weak.

"So far as we know," The dwarf tells him, gruffly, "I can perhaps see them holding him as hostage."

"I am glad indeed for his survival. He did me a great service once, and I believe he will continue to be loyal to me. He is a valuable asset to this country" my cousin looks at me, pensively and continues, "what would you do in this situation, Hartian?"

"I would..." I begin my sentence having no idea what he wants me to say, for I would only ever speak knowing it would not be the wrong thing to say in front of the king, "consult others who are more knowledgeable in the art of diplomacy." I see the king give a wry smile at my answer, as though he knows I do not wish to voice my personal opinions and I add, "or I would send a political envoy to reason with the men who are guilty of this uprising and should that fail I would be forced to take further action."

"Indeed... but it is what to say to them? It was all very well when Aslan opened the door to the other world – but he neglected the Lone Islands rather terribly. It is a shame..." It is clear to both myself and Trumpkin that Caspian has other things on his mind than the Lone Islands. Hi eyes are focussed on a point that lies far beyond us and he looks weary. No doubt he has not slept all night.

"Perhaps another time would be more appropriate, Trumpkin," I suggest, although now I have voiced my opinion I realise Trumpkin will be all the more unlikely to do as I recommend. He has never liked me, him and many others, unable to see past my parentage. I admit, the feeling is mutual. For a moment I think he is going to ignore me completely – but perhaps he detects the sense in what I say. Maybe he was about to say it himself.

"We could continue once-"

Trumpkin is cut off, and he looks indignantly round to see a frenzied maid at the door. She quickly bobs two curtseys – one to my cousin and one to myself – and a respectful nod at Trumpkin.

"Your majesty, your highness... it's... a boy,"

I see Caspian's boyish excitement at the announcement and he rushes off, forgetting all etiquette. Doctor Cornelius would murder me if he saw me run about like that.

I remember my company and force a smile. It's a boy. It's over.

Queen Ramanda, consort to King Caspian X and daughter of a star

It is a boy. Oh Aslan. Oh mighty lion. A boy. My boy. My only child.

I swear I have never seen anything so beautiful and I have lived among stars, yet no celestial object could ever match the wonder and glory of a tiny, bawling child. My tiny bawling child.

A boy, at long last.

Caspian pretends he cares not whether he be a boy or a girl – yet I know that in his heart he wishes for a male child.

There are no words, there can never in all eternity be any words, for the love I have in my heart for this boy. It feels as though my chest is swelling and my head is spinning and the pain that was so alive one moment has been diminished to nothingness after I hold him in my arms.

Where is Caspian? Why is he not here yet? Make him be here! Make him see his child!

As I think this I realise I am too tired to speak. Too Tired to do anything save for hold our child tight and think of Narnia and what a king this boy will be. He will be just and fair and handsome and gallant and he will be my child.

Caspian?

Is that Caspian there?

It doesn't matter. I love my boy so dearly I need no one else.

I speak honestly when I say I would go through the pain of childbirth a hundredfold for a child like the one I hold.

I have never been so happy, so proud, so joyful, so tired in my life.

Dear Aslan, I have always wanted this.

Voices float through my euphoria, they say nothing of any significance. They say I need rest. They say I have done well. They say...

King Caspian X, king of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands

"I am so proud of you."

Prince Rilian, crown prince of Narnia