1015.
The Fifteenth Year of the Golden Age.
Cair Paravel.
Arianna.
"They're gone," Arianna's voice was not sad, merely resigned.
Aslan was silent by her side.
She imagined how they would look to any watching: a great lion with fur of the most brilliant gold, a kindness in those ancient eyes and a slight woman with dark hair and emerald eyes, dressed in soft breeches of the prettiest fawn and a crisp white tunic embellished with delicate silver embroidery.
Silver and gold.
Fire and ice.
Her eyes were on those specks on the water; the Telmarine fleet. Come to take a land that had been left without its rulers.
For Narnia was never at peace unless a son of Adam or a daughter of Eve sat upon the throne.
But Arianna of Charn was no daughter of Eve.
"My people will look to you, Queen Arianna of Charn and Narnia," Aslan's deep voice reverberated through her soul. She'd not shy away from what he charged her with.
"I will do my best," she said softly, her hand falling to the daggers that glittered like ice in her belt.
"That is all I can ask for."
But her best was not good enough.
For still the Telmarines came and Arianna of Charn, the Queen Regent of Narnia, fell.
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Daggers of Ice
RomansaA Narnia fanfiction. It was barely a glimpse - startling eyes the colour of fresh spring leaves met his from across the room. Those very same eyes widened, her fists clenching at her sides. He'd met women before who'd turn their heads and pretend t...
