A/N: I dedicate this to two great authors I admire: Francienyc and rooty-boots. I absolute love their stories and their canon analysis about the timeline of Narnia which partly inspired me to conceptualize the plot of this story. Do check out their individual profiles and their common profile under the name "Transatlantic Inklings." They're very insightful.

If any of you have seen the timeline of Narnia, you will notice that in the year 180 Prince Col, the younger son of King Frank V came to Archenland with some of his followers and became the first king. But if you read The Magician's Nephew closely, it was clearly said that the second son of the first King Frank became the king of Archenland. This is probably an error by C.S. Lewis who gave additional facts about Narnia in his notes that are not found in the books. In this story, I will have to follow what was written in The Magician's Nephew, but as a tribute to erroneous timeline, I named the first son of King Frank, Col.

This is quite an ambitious project I'm working on, so expect it to be long—I mean really long. It's not quite like my two chaptered golden age fanfics. But it does correspond with that universe so if you're familiar with them you'll be encountering some of the characters I created here.

The Forgotten Chronicles of Narnia

Prologue

The Eastern Ocean, year 4

King Frank bounced his oldest son on his knee while leaning over the deck of their magnificent ship, the Luciana.

"Look Col, look at the water," the eager father urged. However, the three-year-old didn't appear to understand, for he found something else more interesting. It was a small glass vial that encased a tiny seed that dangled from a chain around his royal father's neck.

"Now be careful with that. That is a seed from a fallen apple from the Shield Tree that one of the dryads had saved. I keep it with me always for good luck. Who knows, it may have some magic in it too."

The boy continued to grasp the vial and stare at the treasure it held. The king smiled. "Someday, you'll understand," he said.

The ship suddenly lurched forward and King Frank lost his balance from his seat. He clutched at his son protectively, but the boy held on to the vial in a fierce grip until it shattered. The precious seed came loose and got caught in the wind and fell into the ocean.

"No!" gasped the King. At the same time, the young prince wailed as his hand was now bruised and bleeding. The father realized his child's distress and began to mutter words of comfort.

"Hush!" he said. "It's alright, it's just a wound. Come, let's have one of the fauns look into that." He led the still-teary-eyed boy into the cabin, but he took one last glance out into the ocean.

"Well perhaps it might have other purposes than just as a good luck charm," he muttered.

Down into the depths of the sea the tiny seed plummeted. It was nearing the ocean floor where lay a large oyster out hunting for food. As it opened its mouth it swallowed the foreign object. It began to itch and began covering the tiny seed with its shiny coat, forming layers.

Cair Paravel, year 6

King Frank sat uncomfortably at his seat polishing a newly carved wooden horn. He had been doing that for about two hours now, so much that the freshly varnished wood had shone like gold. Yet he found, he couldn't do anything but that. He was too nervous.

He stared at the mouthpiece of the horn, which had the face of a lion.

"Oh Aslan, dear Aslan," he murmured at the image. "Please keep her safe. Keep them both safe."

The cry of an infant disturbed the silence and the king stood from his seat and run out the room, quickly making his way to his royal chamber. He ignored the nymphs standing by the door way and burst through the doors. His sight was greeted by a wailing baby in the arms of a dryad.

"Your highness, it's a boy, congratulations. You have another son."

He stared at the child as tears poured through his eyes, but his heart did not rest from its fast pace. He turned to the dryad. "My wife?" he muttered.

"Frank…" her weak voice murmured. He was by her side in a moment.

"She will be alright, your majesty. She only needs rest."

King Frank finally let his worries pass as he kissed her forehead.

"Here," he said as he showed her the wooden horn he had carved so carefully. "It's a gift for you, my love."

Queen Helen smiled up at him. "From the Shield Tree?" she asked.

He nodded. "It is very valuable," he said.

"Yes," she replied. "But I treasure it more because you have made it. Put it near my mouth, darling."

The king obeyed and placed the mouthpiece of the horn to his wife's lips. She gave a soft blow on it. It produced a single note but it was so infinitely sweet. Their newly born son stopped crying and everyone in the room felt a certain peace overwhelm them.

The Western Woods, year 20

Flowers rained upon the couple as they kissed amidst the joyful shouts of their loyal subjects. All of Narnia was rejoicing at this union between their crown prince and a daughter of nature. But none were happier than King Frank and Queen Helen who were pleased to see their eldest married to the faithful dryad that had been with them since the first day of the creation of Narnia.

"We thank you all," said the prince when the cheering had stopped. "My wife and I wish to do something to remember the occasion." He drew from his robes something wrapped carefully in a silken cloth. He unveiled it to reveal an apple core.

"My darling found this—a fallen apple from the Shield Tree—and saved it on the day she agreed to marry me. We will be planting the core and the tree that will grow from it will be symbol of our love for eternity."

The Narnians cheered and King Frank's eyes misted as he caught his son's gaze. The king wondered if perhaps his son was remembering that tiny seed that he had caused to fall into the ocean so long ago. Perhaps this was his way of showing to everyone that he had learned to value the fruits of the Shield Tree, just as his father had.

The bank of the Great River, year 45

King Frank sat beneath the Shield Tree and the let the silence envelope him. He felt sorely tired and could feel his skin and aged bones so vulnerable to the elements. It was nearing winter and it was quite cold out. His physician had advised him to stay in the Cair, but he insisted on going here. He had to see the tree again, at least one last time. He wanted to be here where his life as king began.

He didn't know why, but somehow he felt he knew he would no longer see the spring. He felt no fear of death. His task here was done. His older son would take his throne. His second son would rule in the new city he founded in the southern lands. All will be well and in death he knew he would soon join his beloved Helen again who passed away last year.

A sudden strong gust of wind blew by and it fiercely shook the tree. It creaked violently before one of its upper branches snapped and fell a few feet where he sat. The king picked up the fallen branch and caressed it.

It was quite long—almost like a sword. An idea struck him and he reached for his carving knife in his pocket.

One last gift, perhaps as toy for my grandson, he thought. And just like the horn he had painstakingly carved for his wife years ago, he began carving the branch into a wooden sword.