A queen sat on the floor of her sitting room. At her side, a prince, golden-haired like his father but sharp-minded like his mother, examined the miniature painting in his hands. It was of his parents; it had been painted fifteen years ago, he knew, and yet so many things looked the same. The room it had been painted in- his uncle, King Edmund's, study, remained untouched since his sudden departure. If the little prince had wanted, he could've stood in the very same spot as his father and created the mirror image of the painting. Even his mother remained the same. Suddenly, the prince raised his gaze. He looked at his mother, blue eyes on brown, curiosity on wariness.
"Mummy," he asked. "Why do you look the same?"
The queen's posture stiffened. She'd had this conversation before; once with the boy's father, and again with his aunt, Queen Susan. Unlike his family, the little prince showed no pity in his eyes. They reflected only the pure and unadulterated curiosity of a child, eager to know a grown-up's secret. "Mon petit garcon," the queen said softly. She raised her hand to smooth down his unruly golden curls. "There are somethings better left unheard by little ears."
The boy frowned, "My ears aren't little."
"Of course they aren't," Her laugh rang like a bell. "But they still have no need to hear the promises of the Great Lion."
"The Great Lion?" The boy felt the familiar sense of wonder flood his being at the mention of Aslan. Though he'd been brought up on tales of heroic kings and queens, there was something vastly different about the stories centered around the great lion. "You mean to say you knew him? As Father did?"
The Queen rose to her feet. This part of their conversation was over. "Once," she said, after a pregnant pause filled the room. "It was a long time ago."
"How long?" He asked. The prince scrambled to his feet to follow his mother.
"Long enough," she snapped. The Queen took a breath. "It's time for your studies. Go now."
The boy stepped back, looking not unlike a wounded animal. "I'm sorry," he hung his head and stared holes into his shoes.
"No need for that," She said, gentler this time as she tilted his chin up. "You asked a question. I answered." The Queen's touch lingered for a moment, and fixed a loose curl behind his ear. "Hurry on. A good little prince should never keep Mr. Tumnus waiting."
Reassured, the prince beamed at his mother. "I won't, Mummy! I promise." The boy kissed her hand, bowed, and walked backwards so as to not put his back to the Queen. He picked up his satchel, bowed again with a mischievous grin, and was gone.
The Queen sighed, and looked up above her fireplace. There, hung a portrait of the five monarchs: High King Peter, the Magnificent; Queen Susan, the Gentle; King Edmund, the Just; Queen Lucy, the Valiant; and herself, the sole remaining head of state, Queen Claudette, the Toilsome.
No, thought Claudette, with a bitter taste on her lips. Queen Claudette, the Foolhardy. Queen Claudette, who should've known better than to believe that something so golden could remain. Queen Claudette, the only monarch to opt out of that Aslan-forsaken hunting trip. Queen Claudette, who survived.
Queen Claudette, who remained.
Hello, we hope you enjoyed the Prologue of Remains, our OC narnia story. Please feel free to comment or review but if not, expect chapter one sometime soon!
-madeline and sara 3.