The day four of Narnia's monarchs disappeared, the day that four siblings disappeared, something broke in the remaining queen.
Queen Hazel, praised for her wisdom, was the youngest of the Pevensie siblings. The only one of them to believe her sister at face value when she came back from hide and seek telling tales of having tea with a faun in a winter wonderland. The one who could always find those she loved through an enchanted spyglass, gifted to her by Father Christmas when the Pevensies first began their Narnian lives. The quietest of the Narnian royals, making her voice all the more coveted to hear. The only one of the Kings and Queens to not participate in the hunt for the White Stag, adamant that she had nothing left to wish for.
Queen Hazel the Wise, to the Incandescent Axis of Worlds, Queen of the Seasons, Voice of Song, Daughter of Eve was alone in her reign for the first time.
The initial search for the missing monarchs lasted an entire year. No stone was left unturned, no tree hollow left untouched, no river left unsearched. Queen Hazel was at the foremost of all search parties, spyglass in hand, hardly resting in the year after her beloved siblings left her alone. The citizens of Narnia were in an uproar, all participating in the frantic searches, scouring woods, fields, seas, and skies for their missing Kings and Queens. All that was found were their four horses, who say that the monarchs simply walked into a tree line and disappeared.
On the one year anniversary of the disappearance, the royal advisors demanded a meeting with the remaining queen. Their country had been in limbo for far too long. Almost all trade and work had been put on hold since that fateful day. It was time to come to terms with the fact that the missing royals may not return.
"How dare you?" Hazel looks every bit the queen she is as she rises to her full height, which isn't much in comparison to the centaur that stands at the table with her. Her eyes show wisdom far too old to be that of a twenty-two year old woman. The set of her shoulders seem to carry the weight of their world, as they have every minute since her siblings failed to return from their hunt.
"Your Majesty, it's time." Her blue eyes flash sapphire in her fury as she turns her gaze from the centaur to Mr. Tumnus. It's only the true sorrow on the faun's face that allows her fiery anger to dim. She collapses back onto her seat at the head of the table.
"Tumnus, you of all people have to understand." Her voice is pleading, not a tone any of her subjects have ever heard from the Queen. Swallowing hard, Hazel wills herself not to cry.
"Of course I do, Your Majesty. I feel Queen Lucy's absence as if I am missing a limb." Her sister's name on the lips of the same girl's heartbroken best friend is almost like a physical blow to the remaining Pevensie. "But, your people need you. Other kingdoms are beginning to look at us in search of weaknesses. It is time for you to ascend to your new title. It is time for life to find a bit of normalcy."
"I can't just give up on them." The firm resolve that has colored her tone for the last year finally seems to be breaking. "They would never give up on me."
"Your Majesty, we are not asking you to stop the search completely, but something must be done. You are not able to see them in your spyglass and we have searched almost every inch of our country. It is time to limit the fear our people feel." The centaur, Zarius, sighs. Before he can continue, he is interrupted by Flamecrest, Hazel's personal advisor.
"My lady, it is time to take up the mantle your siblings left and bring order to the realm." The owl flutters her wings, lifting off from her perch on the back on a chair to land in front of the Queen. "Your image is of utmost importance to maintain. Narnians are in need of stability."
There are several moments of silence as the Queen and owl stare at one another. Finally, Hazel releases a sigh of her own. "Very well, Flamecrest."
"I will begin the preparations." With a bow to the queen, Flamecrest takes flight once more, leaving the war room through an open window.
The other advisors take their own leave, shuffling out of the room quickly. There is much to be done if there is to be a coronation.
Hazel sits at the head of the table, hands gripping tightly to the arms of her chair, eyes staring straight forward but unseeing.
Hazel Pevensie once died so that Queen Hazel could be born. It seems that Queen Hazel has died her own quiet death in this very room. The woman who stands to leave cannot be compared to the one who entered.
From the ashes of The Golden Age will rise High Queen Hazel the Wise, to the Incandescent Axis of Worlds, Empress of the Lone Islands, Lady of Cair Paravel, Duchess of the Lantern Waste, Countess of the Western Marsh, Queen of the Seasons, Voice of Song, Daughter of Eve. High Queen of Narnia.
Hazel believes this new birth comes with too many titles.