A King Arthur-esque twist to the return of the Pevensies in Prince Caspian.

Just a random idea that inspired me! Not really a crossover since this doesn't cross with a particular retelling of the King Arthur myth, but it's inspired by the sword in the stone scene in most King Arthur , and I've always wondered why everyone believed the Pevensies so easily.

The ravaged gardens of Cair Paravel were packed with the few remaining refugees, too fearful to remain anywhere but in the deepest forest or under the protection of the king, what little defense he could offer. Even before this war, the king could barely keep the Narnians alive. King Corin had taken over when all the monarchs of the Pevensie Dynasty had disappeared mysteriously, not a trace of them left. For a few more decades, Corin could hold onto the last remnants of the Golden Age for those who would accept him as king. But eventually, he could only keep the discontent Narnians from rebelling by bringing in Archen forces to crush the instigators.

From that point on, Narnia fell apart at the center. An Archen takeover was the last thing they wanted – or so they thought when those forces began coming. While they were busy fighting their one time neighbors, friends, and the people of their adequate king, they were weakened into a compromising position. The enemy Telmarines simply had to abide their time, ready to swoop in and take over once neither the Archenlanders or the Narnians could possibly face them.

By the time Corin realized this, even he, as prone to fighting as he was, had to admit it was a losing battle. When no sign of Aslan was apparent, he sought out the ancient woods-goddess Pomona and river god Beruna.

"Your Greatnesses. I implore you to rise up to protect your lands," Corin called, his once strong and deep voice now cracking with age that had come all too fast under all the stress and fighting.

"Those who can rise up to protect these lands are not in this world, young King," Pomona said, her woodsy voice swirling in the wind.

"Their Majesties truly have returned to their world then as so many suspect?" Corin said gravely.

"Not by their Majesties' own accord," Beruna reprimanded gently. "But barred from Narnia now all the same."

"If only they can protect Narnia and they are barred, have I doomed this land?" he asked in despair.

The woods goddess and river god saw he was sincere in his grief and decided to give Narnia the hope that they all, Corin in particular, needed now of all times.

"Send your best knights out to recover Rhindon and Queen Susan's horn and bring them here, to the Stone Table," Pomona instructed. "From this you shall receive the hope Narnia needs."

Knowing their mystic ways, Corin believed with his whole heart that while the instructions may be peculiar, they were good. Corin leapt onto his horse and galloped off to Cair Paravel to set about this new quest at once before the Telmarines might attack again.

They scoured the area about Lantern Waste all night to no avail. But not long after the first red lights of dawn, Mr. Tumnus ran up, waving his arms wildly.

"King Corin! King Corin! I found what you are looking for! The magic of Narnia returned their Majesties' gifts to their treasure chests. The cordial, Rhindon, Queen Susan's horn, the dagger, bow, and arrow, they are all there!" Mr. Tumnus said, his face flushed with excitement.

"You know this to be true?" Corin said, unwilling to get himself excited to be only disappointed yet again.

"I do. With my own eyes!" he said, clenching his hands on his horns in excitement.

"Then to Cair Paravel, we ride!" Corin announced as they headed back to Narnia.

Sure enough, the valued treasures were there as promised. "Let the cordial remain in the treasure chest. Before the Telmarines return, we will destroy the only entrance so that only those who know where it is located may find the entrance," Corin proclaimed.

He personally delivered the horn and Rhindon and himself laid them reverently on velvet pillows at the feet of Pomona and Beruna.

"Ivory horn of the Queen your power protects. Your mistress is gone, dying are her subjects. In a thousand years time, call her and family to Narnia's aid. A triumphant return to their righteous crusade," Pomona incanted, laying her branched softly on the horn and clenching it in her twigs. Her bark then morphed to cover the horn. "This shall remain hidden in the forest until one who is worthy quests for it. Let it be known that the only one of Narnian and enemy blood who seeks to unite the two may find the horn in the heart of my forest."

"What's that mean?" Corin demanded, even though he knew better than to expect an answer.

"My gift to Narnia is more straightforward," Beruna said, almost as to rebuke Pomona's ambiguity. He raised his watery arms and the many fords and rivers rushed to the Stone Table.

Corin watched in open-mouth amazement at his display of power. In his stupor, he almost didn't notice what the waters were carrying: rocks. A few were quite large, too large to even call a boulder. Others were small enough that one might hold them in their hands. As the largest boulders fell about the Stone Table, Corin shouted out in surprise, worried that they might annihilate the treasured memorial.

"These rocks protect the Stone Table. They will not harm it," Pomona explained crisply.

Streams of water built the rocks on top of each other, the water then hardening to a strong substance of its own. Beruna then took Rhindon and plunged it into the heart of the pile of stones. Corin almost shouted out for such a thing may blunt or if strong enough, even break the sword, but it slid through as easily as butter.

"Try to pull it out, young King" Beruna instructed.

"But you only just put it in," he protested, confused.

"Go on. Try," Pomona said. Corin walked up, placing both hands upon it, but then no matter how much strength he might put into it, the sword would not budge.

"By the time Pomona's prophecy comes to pass, no one will be alive to recognize the High King and his royal family. The sword knows the blood of his master. It will not budge for one with other blood," Beruna said gravely.

"So this is the end then? A thousand years of occupation for Narnia?" Corin said, feeling sick at the thought. While no one expected him to live up to the brilliance of the Golden Ages, even in his worst nightmares of the many ways he could possibly fail, he hadn't thought up this much destruction.

"You have not failed Narnia, boy," Beruna said gravely, as though reading Corin's very thoughts of inadequateness. "This was written in the stars long before you were even born."

"Indeed. These will be the salvation of Narnia," Pomona confirmed as her leaves rippled in the ripe wind.

Thus the horn came to be the Narnians' last hope for the jubilant return of their rightful rulers as their country was stripped away from them. And as the Narnians were forced to retreat into the forest, they vowed to always have a guard over the sword in the stone until the return of its true owner.