In Book 4, I provided a glimpse into Ana's past. This story was rewritten from the original and posted in my short stories so I could get my reader's opinions on it. however, since I'm unsure if I will ever post Book 4 (at least as it is), I've decided to post it here as well. Because this was meant to be a flashback, it is shorter and italicized. I'm working on rewriting/editing the other parts that were written specifically for the Short Stories and they will hopefully be up later this week.

A Warrior's Tragic Beginning

Summary: The story of how Ana came to be begins.

A baby slept soundlessly in her cradle. Her mother lay asleep in a nearby room, barely breathing. It had been a difficult pregnancy and afterwards, the Queen had lost a lot of blood. The physician and nursemaids weren't sure if she would make it through the night if the birth of the princess would cost them their Queen.

The King awaited anxiously for news, but none was forthcoming. At first, all he heard were the screams from his wife which were finally broken by a baby's cry. When the crying stopped, a woman carried the baby from his wife's room and towards the nursery. He didn't know if the child or his Queen were alive. Everything fell silent and he began to pace the halls. The physician hadn't made an appearance which told him the news likely wasn't good.

Finally, as the midnight bell rang, the physician gave him the dreaded news. They had done all they could to save the Queen, but she was dying. He would be able to spend her final hours by her side, but that was all they could offer him. They apologized and bowed in sorrow. Then the physicians and nursemaids left to allow the King some privacy.

Pushing open the doors to the bedchamber, he saw the Queen, his wife lying pale amongst the bed sheets. The rise and fall of her chest was shallow and barely noticeable. He quickly went to her side. Falling on his knees, he grabbed her hand.
"My love," he said. "My beautiful Isabel."
"Promise me," the Queen rasped and he tried to shush her. But she was desperate to get the words out. "Promise me you'll tell our daughter about me. Tell her it wasn't her fault."
"Our daughter?" the King frowned. Too worried about his wife he had not thought to inquire about the status of their child.
"Our little Ana," the Queen continued, not noticing her husband's plight. "She'll be a wonderful queen someday and I know she'll make me proud. I only wish I could see it."
"Don't say that," he soothed. "You'll be alright."
The Queen let out a short laugh that ended in her coughing. "You don't have to lie to me. I know what the physician told you. I know I'm dying."
Hearing her say it brought him no consolation. "I had hoped for a son," he muttered quietly.
"I know how much you wanted a son. But Aslan gives us what we need. You mustn't be angry with Him. This is all part of His plan." The Queen coughed again and was unable to elaborate.
"Shh..." the King soothed. "Just rest."

This time the Queen obeyed, having lost the energy to speak. She could barely hold her head up. The King stayed by her side throughout the night, but as the sun awoke only one rose with it. He had sobbed when she passed but let her go when the physician came to check on them. He fled the room quickly, leaving the physician alone. It was just too painful to look at her. His love, his light was gone. He didn't understand why Aslan would take her, leave him alone in this world.

At those thoughts, he remembered he wasn't quite alone. He had a child now. Quite by chance, he looked up and found himself outside the nursery. He opened the doors and discovered the room void of anyone, except the sleeping baby. The King approached the crib and stared down at his child. He had heard crying coming from the room earlier in the morning but had been too overwhelmed with grief to bother checking on her. One of the nursemaids must have come to soothe her, as was their job.

Starting down at the child, the King realized he was the only thing left of his love. However, instead of feeling saddened by this, he felt angry. His only child was a girl, not someone who could carry on the family name. Not someone who could become a great warrior or lead an army, lead his people. Defend the Kingdom in his stead. What could he teach a girl?

"This is all your fault," he told the oblivious child. "My wife, my love, is dead because of you!" He wept. "'Aslan gives us what we need?' I needed a son, someone strong enough to lead the people when I'm gone. You could never do that." He moved away from the crib, fist clenching in anger and grief. "It's your fault. Yours. If you had never been born, she would still be alive. I wish you hadn't. My Isabel would still be here."

He approached the crib again, eyes full of tears. The King reached down to touch the child, but a roar caused him to stumble backwards. He fell to the floor and when he looked around he saw a Lion beside the cradle, watching the child. She was still sleeping soundly, the roar hadn't disturbed her at all.

The King made to stand but halted when the Lion looked at him. The sadness and anger in the Lion's eyes was overwhelming.
"You wished for an heir and I gave you that," the Lion told him.
"Aslan," the King gasped. "I needed a son. Someone to carry on the family name."
"I gave you a daughter who would match your wife's spirit and heart. I gave her your determination and your will. Every day, she would be a beautiful reminder of what was lost this day. She's the perfect thing to help you with the loss of Queen. But you blamed her."
"I—I" he tried to explain.
"You came at her with the intent to harm!" the Lion's gaze was piercing. "For what you have done, you shall have no heir! Your grief and anger will consume you, leading to the destruction of Narnia. The Kingdom will suffer for your deeds and your daughter will be one to save it."

With that, the Lion was gone and the King scrambled to his feet. He rushed to the cradle, only to find it empty. He fell to his knees and sobbed in regret. Now he was truly alone. He had lost his wife and now his daughter. Aslan had taken them both from him. Tears welled in his eyes and his fist clenched in anger. Now he had no one to blame but himself for this. He deserved this suffering. He let out a scream and fell to his knees once more. How was he to explain this to his people?

Standing, he wiped the tears from his eyes. He had to fix this and provide an explanation to the people without telling them what he had tried to do. Leaving the empty nursery, he quickly came up with a plan. The King called for the physician and servants who had helped with the Queen's delivery. They were sworn to secrecy and the nursemaids were let go—with a decent severance. He informed his people that their Queen was dead and the Kingdom grieved with him. The Queen he had buried as if she was still with child. If anyone asked, everyone was to say that the child was never born.

As the years passed, the King was blinded by grief, becoming hard and callous. He didn't care anymore, didn't feel anymore. He stopped taking care of his people and became oblivious to their plight. And the Narnians suffered because of it.

The centaurs had heard of a prophecy that a warrior would arise from their people to lead the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve against the ruler, restoring peace to Narnia. It brought hope to many Narnians for a while. But as things got worse, many began to lose hope that they would be saved.

Reports came of people disappearing, but the King ignored them. Messengers told him that a strange woman was lurking near the borders as if testing them. Still, he did nothing. When he got word of a powerful army readying to attack, he sent his men out carelessly, and many lives were lost. They brought him news that the Tree of Protection seemed to be dying yet he did not go to the riverbank himself to investigate the cause. He remained in his castle.

One day he got the news that the tree had been destroyed but the King couldn't find it in him to care. Aslan had abandoned him, why should he have to be the one to save them? Shortly after the tree's destruction, a witch attacked and in one fell swoop took the Kingdom. The Narnians rallied on their own to defend what was left, but it was too late. The witch had grown too powerful and they were all scattered; many were killed. She made her way to the castle with no one to stop her.

The King had lost his heart long ago and longed for death. The witch had granted it along with a promise to kill anyone loyal to Aslan. As death came for him, he remembered both Aslan's words and the prophecy. Smiling, he told the witch she would not reign forever, and one day, someone would put an end to her tyranny.

Those loyal to Aslan were hunted down. The witch feared the prophecy and sent her soldiers out to kill any remaining humans. None were to be taken prisoners and those found harboring any humans were to be killed. She cast an eternal winter over the land and built a secret police to ensure that no human ever returned to Narnia.

But all the witch's efforts were in vain. Deep in the forest, far from prying eyes, one human remained. By now she had matured and knew of the threat against her kind. So she stayed away from any Narnians, not wishing to put them at risk. Both the skills she had acquired over the years and her special gift kept her from ever being found by the witch or her spies.

She remained on her own. Until one fateful day when she met a special faun. A day that would set her on the course to be a great warrior. Just as Aslan had spoken.