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Title: Mirror Mirror
Author: deadhead
Obligatory linkage: http://books.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600093798&chapter=1
Rating: Adult+
Sporked by: [livejournal.com profile] agenttrojie and [livejournal.com profile] tea_fiend
Sporkage rating: R
Summary: In part three of their punishment, Trojie and Pads face down a sex prophecy and a naked Narnian mob.
Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] ansela_jonla for betaing.




January 2009 HST


'I'm tired, and I'm hungry, and I'm sick of watching people have it off badly,' complained Trojie as they stepped through the portal. 'Where the hell anyone ever got the idea that sex was fun, I do not know.'

Pads rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Instead she peered at the words. 'Gosh, urple much?' she asked, half-rhetoricallly. 'Listen to the tone of this thing.'

Across a crowded ballroom floor their eyes meet, then flick instantly away. It didn't happen. It was a trick of the light. I don't know what you mean.

'Yargh,' said Trojie. 'While nice spelling and technically nice grammar, if you ignore the spasticated sentence use, are nice to see finally, they're only making me more worried about what horrors this is going to involve.'

'I'll give you one hint,' said Pads, engrossed in the Words. 'There's a prophecy.'

'Oh, glaurung,' said Trojie sadly. 'That never ends well. Is the prophecy prophesying sex?'

'A one-hundred percent affirmative to that, boss,' said Pads, grimacing. 'Edmund and Tumnus, bound by Fate to have worryingly bestial sex. There's probably Faun sex rituals too, if I"m any judge of urpleness.'

'Yargh.'

The two agents watched in silence as Tumnus and Edmund, who was twelve, ignored each other studiously and meaningfully.

Well, they watched in silence for a while, at least.

'This is booooring,' said Trojie. 'I almost want to see some-mmf!'

'Don't even say it,' said Pads. 'Just, honestly, woman, how have you got this far without being crushed by the Ironic Overpower?'

'Mmf! MMF!'

'No, I'm not letting go. Just be patient. Ow!'

'You ought to have learnt by now that I bite. Where is the narrative going now? Oh, a beach. How ... cliched.'

It is not until the long summer has worn away to autumn that one of them breaks. Surprisingly, it is Edmund.

'What the hell? Edmund doesn't break. He's the implacable personification of the law!'

'Well, in fanon at least,' said Pads. 'I agree, though, poor phrasing. Control your fangirlish impulses and write it down?'

Muttering about fangirlish impulses, Trojie did so.

It was when Edmund drops to his knees that the agents started feeling a little more sure of themselves.

'Okay, disgusting as it's undoubtedly about to get, somehow I'm more at home with this situation,' said Trojie. 'At least it's something familia- wait.'

Edmund wasn't doing what they thought he was doing. He was ... apologising?

"I owe you an apology for a crime so heinous I hesitate to even approach you. I led the witch to you, and caused your imprisonment and torture. You may never forgive me, for indeed I cannot forgive myself, but if there is anything that I can do or say to make reparation for my sin, I implore you to let me know, now or at any time in the future."

'He wants to ... atone for his sin,' said Pads slowly and slightly disbelievingly.

'In badslash,' added Trojie. The two agents looked at each other. 'There is really only one way this is going to end, isn't there?'

'I almost wish he'd just cut to the chase when he dropped to his knees,' said Pads with an expression of distaste on her face. 'It's all going to be the same in the end and at least then we could have exorcised and left ASAP.'

'What's he doing now?' Trojie asked, peering suspiciously at Edmund.

'Running away, I think.'

'Do we follow him?'

'Nothing's going to happen until dusk, apparently. We could go for a swim?'

'Pass. Skinny-dipping's not really my thing.'

'Bugger,' Pads said, and flopped down on the sand, which she began poking. 'Sandcastles it is then.'

'Ooh, hang on, I think I might actually have a bucket in here,' said Trojie, scrabbling through the upper layers of the Bag. 'Here!'

Several hours and seventeen sandcastles in varying states of collapse later, they gave it up as a bad job, and went to find the canons.

'Let us never speak of this,' Trojie said gloomily, as the final sandcastle gently sank into a sad little heap behind them.

'Clearly we weren't cut out to be architects. Look, Faun!'

They gave chase, and soon were again confronted with Edmund being overly formal.

'I'm sure I'll regret asking this,' said Trojie, eyes narrowing, 'but why are we having Edmund's age established?'

'No good comes of a slashfic where one of the protagonists is definitively established as being twelve,' agreed Pads.

'Hang on, Tumnus is now refusing to explain his weirdness for another four years. Four years brings Edmund up to-'

'Sixteen. Legal age, just.'

The two agents looked at each other in horror and groaned 'Faun sex rituals,' in bizarre tandem.

And then, unsurprisingly, the narrative jumped four years.

'Edmund is sulking because Tumnus hasn't come to visit him yet? He was probably over the petulant child stage by the time he'd been king for, what, six or seven years by now?'

'You'd think so,' said Trojie. 'Oh, wait, here come Tumnus. How surprising.'

Tumnus was still weird. He demanded that they go to a "more private location for this conversation, Your Majesty?"

'This is going nowhere good.'

'It's Tumnus/Edmund. Where exactly could it go that's good?'

'Point.'

"When I was a young baby," he said, staring into the flames, "Before I was weaned and taken to my father's house, my mother sought advice from a wisewoman. A rowan, she was - old and revered for her gift of divination. She told my mother that I would be prisoner to one who was royal, friend to three, and lover to one. I would make three pivotal choices she said, and I would hold the fate of a queen, a world and a king in my hands. At the last, she said, I would be alone with my memories until the end of the world.

'Sex prophecies. Better or worse as a plot device than sex pollen?' Pads asked Trojie. Trojie considered for a moment.

'Worse. 'Cause prophecies are urple whereas pollen can be crack.'

'And crack trumps urple.'

'By quite a lot, yes.'

"I did not mean to shock you, Edmund. I know that this is presumptuous beyond all reason, but when I first saw you I knew. I knew that you were the king, the lover, the beloved of whom she spoke. And you were a child!

'Yes! You should have IGNORED THE PROPHECY,' snarled Trojie. 'Because clearly it was wrong!'

'Ah, but it's a prophecy,' said Pads. 'Remember, wizened old seers never lie. Or have senile dementia. Or, apparently, weird fetishes.'

'What I never get about prophecies,' said Trojie, watching Edmund shuffle over to Tumnus after the Enormous Revelation of Doom, 'is how they make the other party immediately go 'okay, it is fated, pass me the lube and let's get it on'.'

'Trojie, they're only kissing.'

'It's only a matter of time,' scowled the veteran. 'It's only ever a matter of time. I just want to know why no one ever goes, 'uh, okay, slightly disturbed by this prophecy. What if I don't want to be your cross-eyed lover?''

'Star-crossed.'

'Whatever.'

'I think I'm going to have to have a note put on your personal file - 'gets unreasonably aggressive when confronted with mischaracterised Edmund Pevensie'.'

Trojie rolled her eyes. 'Only if I can note that you like killing replacements by eating their larynxes.'

'Touché.'

Temporal shifts ensued. And sex.

'Oh, for crying in a bucket. I could write a treatise on the anatomy of Fauns by now.'

'Please don't.'

'I think you'd be the only person to read it anyway,' said Trojie sadly. 'Except Lux, of course.'

'Yes, but she'd probably draw moustaches on the diagrams.'

'True. Hardly counts as reading.'

"Fidelity is not natural to fauns," he points out. "But of course I don't want to make you unhappy. I will abide by human rules."

Edmund scowls even deeper. "Don't do me any favours!" he snaps.

Tumnus sits up and pulls Edmund's stiffly unresponsive body closer. "I expressed it badly, my king. I will be faithful to you until death."


'Um-'

'Don't say a word,' said Pads urgently. 'We're stopping this now. And don't you dare look at the Words, either. Bell, woman!'

Trojie obediently grabbed her bell, and then stopped short with it raised above her head. 'We can't. It's only chapter two. This is meant to be punishment.'

'Bugger. Let the porn commence then.'

They settled themselves comfortably on the floor, and observed. There was a moment of brief snickering when Edmund's penis turned momentarily into a spear, thanks to some extremely dodgy grammar, and rather more snickering when a bolt of lightning shoots through him setting fire to every nerve in his body.

'That has to hurt,' Trojie said, grinning.

'I thought you liked Edmund.'

'I do, but I also appreciate lightning. And at least the canon's trying to make things more interesting for us.'

'Interesting? This fic is hardly formula.'

'Well no, but still. In terms of writing, it could hardly get any more dull,' Trojie pointed out.

'Oh, I don't know,' Pads commented. 'Tumnus has just made rather a mess. Could be fun watching him try to wash that out of his fur.'

'Sadly, they never write the bits where the protagonists clean the mess up, excepting in situations where it can involve cloths and washing and then more sex,' said Trojie, with a jaded expression on her face.

'Oh, for the love of Glod,' said Pads suddenly, her eyes unfocused in the way that told Trojie that her partner was reading the Words. 'The next section is nothing but a montage of Edmund and Tumnus in compromising positions -'

A flood of images washed over them at that moment, beginning with something entirely unexpected:

Peter and a dryad in a grove somewhere.

'Wait, what?' asked Trojie, before the next pictures hit.

Edmund and Tumnus in bed together.

Edmund and Tumnus 'entwined in a birch grove'

Edmund and Tumnus 'pressed hip-to-hip in an isolated cove'

Edmund and Tumnus in a 'locked store-room' with Edmund, er, on his knees.

Edmund and Tumnus 'in their bathroom - Tumnus braced against the sink as Edmund sinks deep inside him, fur gently caressing his balls and belly' with Susan looking on, shocked.

'Who the hell has a sexual-depravity training montage?' Pads asked. 'Does this look like an Eighties kung-fu porn movie?'

'After the montage? Yes, actually, it does.' The setting settled down to being Edmund and Tumnus's bedroom. Edmund was questioning Tumnus on the life history of fauns, in order to set things up for a Significant Question:

"So when do fauns become old enough for sex?"

Tumnus runs an idle hand down his lover's chest. "About sixteen, usually. It happens in the spring - a young faun's chest becomes hairier, his prick larger and his voice deeper. He gains muscle and height quickly, and suddenly he is old enough to attend the moonlight revels. It is faster than your human patterns of growth.


'Why is this a pressing question?' asked Trojie suspiciously. She tapped her partner on the shoulder. 'You're reading ahead. Tell me why.'

'Um. Because of the faun sex rituals?'

'I was wondering when we'd get to them.'

With superb timing, Tumnus began to explain said rituals to Edmund.

Trojie and Pads both listened with their heads tilted to one side and almost identical expressions of curiosity, distaste and 'wait, wtf, that doesn't make sense'.

'So ... they have forest-wide orgies, but only once a year?'

'Is this the only time they have sex?'

'Can't be. He and Edmund have been at it like knives for months, I think,' said Pads. 'And Tumnus apologised for being so promiscuous earlier, remember?'

'Fair point. But he's making out that this is the only time of year they can breed.'

'True.'

'And don't even get me started on the bit where Fauns can breed with Dryads AND Naiads AND nymphs AND humans AND centaurs AND apparently everything else.'

'Yes, and there were definitely both male and female centaurs.'

'Precisely, so the idea of Fauns all being male and everything else they bred with being female and so all boy children are Fauns and all girl children are whatever their mothers were is preposterous, I mean, honestly, sexual dimorphism with multiple disparate female forms is just ... oh, Glod, won't someone think of the genetics?'

Pads patted Trojie's hand. 'Apparently, dear, only we ever do.'

'We can't be alone, surely.'

'Your faith is touching.'

Yet another temporal/spatial distortion, and the Agents found themselves on the walltop, watching Edmund watch Tumnus gaze 'out over the battlements'.

'Edmund wants to go to the orgy. How sweet,' said Trojie, deadpan.

'Truly, a sight to warm the cockles of any fangirl's heart,' added Pads. 'And Tumnus is ... surprised? That a teenage boy wants to join in with an orgy. Riiiight.'

After some careful consideration, Tumnus reasoned that, because he had yet to bugger Edmund, the latter was surely ready for his first interspecies orgy. Edmund dashed off to get dressed and the agents followed.

'Isn't getting dressed for an orgy a bit of a waste of time?' Trojie asked.

'There's such a thing as standards, you know,' Pads told her. 'And there'll probably be dancing and such first. Dancing nude tends to involve uncomfortable jiggling. It's not really conducive to sexytimes.'

'This is a good point. Oh, look, venison!'

'Apparently eating venison and then going out into the forest to have an orgy with various mythical creatures and Talking Animals is ... somehow symbolic?'

'Apparently, vegetables and meat are symbolic at the feast. What did they eat the rest of the time if a meat and veg meal is speshul?'

'Porridge, I suppose.'

'I never saw oats.'

'You're going to see enough wild oats later to put you off porridge for ever,' said Pads dolefully.

'I haven't eaten porridge for seven years,' said Trojie. 'You never thought there might be a reason for that?'

'Point. Stupid literal metaphors coming to life.'

'Agreed.'

The scene changed from a feast to a forest, and Edmund and Tumnus hailed a stag.

'I couldn't look a stag in the face after having eaten venison, could you?' asked Trojie.

'Not a Talking Stag, no.'

They settled themselves comfortably against a tree to watch the dancing. It wasn't long before a Naiad started groping Edmund, and Tumnus led him away deeper into the forest. With a weary sigh, the agents followed.

'Are orgies always this public?' Trojie asked with distaste, doing her best to dodge the copulating couples that appeared to be inhabiting every bush, tree and clearing.

'That is sort of the point of orgies, yes,' Pads said. 'Although I think in orgies everyone gets involved with everyone. This is more just lots of people having sex in the same place.'

'Yes, all the orgies I've seen have been more sort of ... involved. In the 'I need a map to keep track of who has what in where belonging to who' sense.'

'That's about right.'

'Whereas this is just a sort of sex festival. Although I note with some distaste that Edmund is eyeing a threesome with a speculative look on his face.'

Apparently Tumnus had noticed it too: "Would you like to do that?" Tumnus asks.

Edmund seems confused. He bites his lower lip and Tumnus leans in to kiss it better. "I love you, my king," he murmurs. "A night's revel will not change that. Whether we share a lover or you find yourself another faun or naiad to play with tonight will not alter the fact that tomorrow night we will be back in our own bed together."


'Yes, because kings in 'open relationships' has traditionally ended so well in the past,' said Pads. 'Why do I have this feeling that despite Tumnus being 'look, a smorgasbord of sexuality, yay', they're going to end up doing each other?'

'Well, despite wanting to be liberal, you see,' said Trojie slowly, 'I think the Author still thinks that only monogamy is truly romantic and representative of true love.'

At this point, Edmund asked Tumnus what he'd do if he, Edmund, abandoned him for the orgy. Tumnus replied that he'd go back to the castle and wait like a good boy, because Edmund apparently had some catching up to do, as Tumnus had had a hundred-odd years of screwing around and it was only fair.

'I've heard of turn-taking in sexual situations but this is ridiculous.'

'Mind you,' Trojie said thoughtfully, 'after a hundred years of orgies, he might be a little bit bored.'

'He's a Faun,' Pads pointed out. 'A manifestation of the virile, animalistic lust lurking within the heart of every man. He's not going to get bored of shagging.'

'I'm really hoping that wasn't the symbolism Lewis was going for when he wrote Tumnus and Lucy's tea-party...'

There was a lull in conversation as both agents considered this and shuddered. The fic took this opportunity to insert a conversation that was meant to be serious but thanks to vocabulary choices came out considerably more comically:

"We have never... I didn't... Fauns are larger than humans and I have never..."

"Buggered me?" Edmund suggests helpfully.

"Yes. I would ask that... I have no right."

"You have every right," Edmund snaps. "You are my chosen lover. I will not allow anyone else to bugger me tonight.


'It's wrong that I'm laughing, isn't it?'

'It's like the Biggus Dickus scene from The Life of Brian,' said Trojie, doubled-up from giggling. 'The more they say 'bugger' the funnier it becomes.'

"I love you Tumnus. I want you to be the first to bugger me."

Pads patted Trojie on the back in an attempt to stop her from choking with laughter. 'I thought this was meant to be punishment, not unintentional comedy?'

'Oh, the joys of bathos,' Trojie wheezed through the giggles.

"Tonight we are both free to seek other lovers," Edmund decides. "And tomorrow we will share the tales of our night with each other, and you will bugger me."

'Get your bell out, you demented woman,' said Pads, now thumping her partner's back as she looked worryingly like she was on the verge of choking. 'Exorcism!'

Trojie, still spluttering, pulled out her bell.

'We're three-fifths through it once we've got this done,' Pads said as she rummaged in the Bag Trojie had slung over her shoulder, and produced candles. 'I'd probably best be careful we don't burn the forest down, shouldn't I?'

'That might be an idea,' said Trojie, giving the bell an experimental clang. 'Ah, she's in good voice tonight,' she said, and began ringing in earnest. 'AVAUNT, foul badslash demon of the underworld! I banish sex prophecies and rituals! I banish bestiality! I banish unlikely genetics and reproductive modes! In the name of LEWIS I compel the slashwraith to leave this forest and this continuum! Avaunt!'

Pads advanced, waving a copy of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, with which she gave first Tumnus and then Edmund a good clout round the back of the head. In the distance, raised voices could be heard.

'Er, Trojie? Might want to hurry it up a bit. We're not exactly alone here.' She indicated the forest around them, in which various naked Narnians were beginning to notice something was amiss.

'AVAUNT! AVAUNT! AVAUNT!'

'And quieter too!'

'The bloody thing won't LET GO!' cried Trojie, now advancing on Tumnus with a gimlet look in her eye and her bell held above her head. 'Don't make me concuss him, you bitch! AVAUNT!'

The crowd of approaching Narnians were getting closer, and looking decidedly pissed off, as anyone does when interrupted mid-coitus by two deranged women making lots of noise and hitting your king and his consort with books. Pads took one look at the vengeful mob, one look at Tumnus and Edmund, who were finally being released by the Wraith, and opened a portal. She grabbed Trojie by the scruff of her neck, still frantically ringing her bell as if her life depended on it, and threw her into the next fic. Then the Animagus took out the neuralyser from her pocket, jammed her sunglasses down over her eyes from their previous perch on top of her head, and pressed the button.

FLASH

'No-one is having an orgy, there is no prophecy, there are no mating rituals, and Tumnus and Edmund are not the worst kept secret in Christendom. Thank you for your time.' And with that she dived through the portal into the fourth part of their punishment.




Continued in Part Four: The White Witches deal.
Part One: The two boys
Part Two: Wedding Night
Part Five: How to Remember the Signs
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