(Anvard, Archenland)

~Chronicler's POV~

Ever since Prince Tristan was born, High Queen Gilda and High King Edmund had received felicitations from basically everybody, even Tomas, the Emperor-Tisroc of Calormen, and his fiancée, Dowager Princess Carissa Steel, who had recently given birth to a son, Crown Prince Khaled of House Aixinjueluo.

Now that Gilda was allowed to get out of bed, she was eager to walk around because she hadn't done that in a long time. Still, the physicians had advised Her Majesty to refrain from work altogether.

February was nearing its end, and though everybody at the Archenlander Court was in good spirits, that didn't seem to prevent bad things from happening. One day, when King Nain was holding his grandson in his arms, he felt unwell. Baby Tristan ought to be grateful that his father had managed to pick him up just in time, as his grandfather had fainted. Everybody was scared and worried for their King emeritus now. It was common knowledge that the King's health was diminishing (rather rapidly too), and he had been fainting rather frequently, yet this time, he was unconscious for a particularly long period of time.

As a result, the most learned physicians from all over Archenland and Narnia were summoned to Court. His Majesty's chief physician & medical consultant was the old but definitely professional Doctor Linacre, who had known Nain the day the royal was born. Doctor Linacre was also the one who had medically verified Nain's infertility. Therefore he was the Colson family's most trusted physician at the Archenlander Court. (The royal family also treated him very well, so that he would not expose the secret of Gilda's illegitimacy, as he knew of Nain's infertility.)

Doctor Linacre had brought bad news to the royal family. He was not optimistic that Nain Colson would recover, this time. The mood of the Court immediately dropped, from the rapture and cheer due to the birth of Prince Tristan, to solemnity and despair and dismay and pessimism. According to Doctor Linacre's prognosis, King Nain might not be fortunate enough to survive to see the third month of the year, as his health only got worse and worse even when it was not thought to be possible.

Today was the last day of February and so those closest to King Nain were anxious to see to it that he could make it to March 2305. In the royal lounge, Gilda was holding her baby in her arms, accompanied by her husband. They were waiting for any news about her father's health. Rather than hearing from the physicians that had gathered in the room, she had heard from a guard, who informed her that King Nain was requesting an audience with her. Therefore quickly handing over the baby to Edmund, Gilda had paced briskly to her parents' bedchambers.

When she got there, the physicians present, including Doctor Linacre, were shooting apologetic looks at her as they bowed. She sighed inwardly and looked down for a moment, before going to her father's bedside, sitting next to her mother who was holding his hand.

Gilda noticed that her father's eyelids were fluttering shut and open rapidly and weakly. He could only let out a faint grunt — that sounded like a vaguely happy sound — to acknowledge his daughter's presence.

"Father, please don't talk," Gilda advised once she sat down. "You're too weak," she added as fresh tears rushed to her eyes.

"We all know...I'm about to...leave this world...don't have much time...need to tell you...secret...important..." He croaked between ragged breaths. He felt his wife squeeze his hand but he simply couldn't muster enough energy to squeeze her hand.

Queen Dionne signaled at the physicians for them to take their leave, but only temporarily, so the Colson family could have a moment of privacy that was very much needed as it might well be their last.

"Father, you can tell me about it some other time. When you're feeling better and energized," said Gilda pleadingly, shaking her head like a petulant child and roughly wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

"Nay," he continued breathily, in broken sentences. "Now's the time. My daughter...I love you...and I am proud...of the woman...you've become. Archenland...will be in good hands." He had to pause to take deep breaths with much difficulty, which only made his wife and daughter cry even harder. "I'm thankful...to be able to see...my grandchild..." He sighed. "Even though...he is not my...my flesh and blood."

Gilda stopped sobbing for a moment and frowned at her father in bewilderment. "Father, you're delirious. Is it the illness making you confused? You should rest, by the Mane! Of course baby Tristan is your flesh and blood. Just a fortnight ago you were exhilarated to have a grandson."

But King Nain shook his head feebly. "Only in my heart...you are my daughter...and Tristan my grandson."

Gilda looked up at her mother in puzzlement. "I don't understand."

"I love you...as if you...were my own," he tried to explain but his volume was dropping lower and lower till it was a whisper. "I raised you...but I am...not your father. When I...when I married...your mother," he took some deep breaths again and clearly was in pain. "She was already...pregnant with...another man's child...you."

Gilda could not believe her ears. She had desperately wanted to believe that her father was just not in his right mind due to his health condition, but she also doubted that he would be telling jokes under these circumstances. She also studied her mother's facial expressions and she realized that her father was telling the truth.

"What?!" She blurted in disbelief. "How...I don't get it. How could this have happened?!"

"Please, let me explain," said Dionne tearfully. "Before I got married, and back when I was merely the younger daughter of the 8th Count & Countess of Chatham, I fell in love with another man. I had a relationship with him and I got pregnant with his child: you. We were about to get married and start a family together, but that was also when your maternal grandparents decided that I ought to become the wife of the Crown Prince at that time, so that I could be the future Queen consort of this nation. Saying no was not an option for me."

"Whoa, so you're telling me that you just fooled everybody? Lied to everybody and tricked them into thinking that I was really a royal child?" Gilda spat. "Unbelievable!" She added in disapproval.

"Child..." Nain pleaded. "Please...don't be angry...with your mother...it was my idea." He then, struggling, explained that he was infertile, and added that Doctor Linacre right outside the room could attest for that. "So you see...I could never...produce an heir...to the throne."

"And therefore my mother's pregnancy came at the right time," Gilda finished the sentence for her dying father. Well, 'father'. "I see. Well, that's great. I'm so happy to know that I don't actually have a drop of royal blood after all."

"Gilda, don't say that, please," Dionne said apologetically. "You're still the High Queen of this nation. Nothing's changed."

"Nothing's changed?! Oh, sure, Mother," Gilda shot back at her sardonically.

"You are still...my daughter...no matter what..." Nain managed to choke out a few more words. "Don't forget that."

"Why couldn't you have told me about it sooner?!" Gilda demanded angrily and embarrassedly, in mortification and in humiliation. "Does my 'real' father know that I exist?"

Dionne nodded. "Yes. Of course. He was so happy when I told him that I was carrying his child, and he was ready to spend the rest of his life with me. But when he knew that I couldn't become his wife, and when Nain spoke with him, he accepted the offer and allowed you to be raised as a princess and the future Queen. Because that's the best future he can possibly want for his daughter."

"I trust him..." Nain even found the energy and breath to add. "He will take care...of you and...your mother."

"Well, who is he? Do I know him?" Gilda inquired urgently, almost stomping her foot in impatience.

"Yes," Dionne confessed with an uneasy gulp. She had been hiding it from her daughter for more than 17 years, and now it was the time for the truth to be unraveled. "It's...Sir Silas Seymour."

Gilda gasped sharply. Any louder and she would have attracted the immediate attention of the physicians stationed outside. Many things made sense to her now: why Sir Silas had saved her when she had fallen off her horse, why he had spoken to her with that attitude that was unbecoming of a criminal a few months ago when she had accused him of various crimes, and why her mother was so defensive about and protective over him. Yes, it all added up now.

"Him?! Silas Seymour?!" Now it was Gilda's turn to croak. "He's my father?! Out of all people, it just had to be him?! Wow. I really can't believe it. This is just..." She shook her head and swatted her tears away again.

"He is a good man," said Nain weakly, whispering again, but unfortunately Gilda did not pay too much attention to what he was saying as she was too engrossed in the sudden surge of mixed emotions to listen intently. "He loves you...like I do...I love you..."

Out of betrayal and hurt, Gilda had raised her voice and that had easily drowned out Nain's volume. "That man is my real father?! And Ralph, his brother...you mean you almost killed my uncle, Mother?! You signed his damn death warrant; what the..." She couldn't compose her thoughts anymore or remain collected. "I can't believe this; who else has knowledge of this?!"

"Your husband is aware of this," Dionne answered timidly.

"Edmund knew and he didn't tell me?!" Gilda practically howled.

"I asked him not to. That was something that only your father and I should be telling you about," said Dionne right away.

"My father?! Which father?!" Gilda blustered. "The one who caused my birth, or the one who raised me?" She glanced at Nain, but a chill ran down her spine and both women in the room had noticed that Nain's eyelids had stopped fluttering all in all. "Father?" She gulped, her throat dryer than ever. "Father, are you alright? Please?" She grasped his hand and tugged at it. But the King was not responsive.

Dionne scuttled to the door and called for the physicians. Doctor Linacre knelt by the bedside and checked King Nain's breathing and pulse right away, while the two Queens were biting on and chewing on their lower lips in anxiety.

Then Doctor Linacre rose to his feet solemnly, turning to his Queens in no less somber a mood. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm sorry, Your Majesties. The King is dead. Long live the High Queen."

Gilda threw herself into her mother's embrace and they hugged each other and cried, sobbing in grief. The King was dead. Long live the High Queen and long may she reign.