![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardTitle: Truth No. 2
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bedlamsbard
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia movieverse
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Peter's the one who's more likely to panic; Susan has the feeling he's still operating on the edges of wonderment, still not quite sure that this is really happening. Golden Age, Peter/Susan.
Warnings: Incest
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Certain characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to Walden Media. Title from the Dixie Chicks' "Truth No. 2".
No one does baths like the Calormenes -- no one does indulgence like the Calormenes -- but Susan prefers Narnian baths for all that. They're more honest, somehow. And Narnia is home -- far more important than mere luxury.
Not that Narnia can't do luxury as well. Cair Paravel has several bath houses, wide, airy constructions of white marble with the baths sunk into the floor, some of them in series of varying temperature. Susan usually has a bath drawn up in her rooms, but she's been in there all day; if she stays in there another minute she's going to go mad.
There's no one else in this particular bath house except for the attendants on duty, a swan-maid and a pair of naiads enthusiastically discussing Iberville's latest production. Susan's bodyguards murmur to each other for a few moments as she undresses, then Ehrin goes outside the door and Silvana joins the attendants, chiming in with an observation about the lead actress's portrayal of the fair pirate queen.
Susan slips into the bath, sighing a little with relief. The water is blood-warm, smooth and silky against her skin, with rose petals floating on the surface. Susan flicks at one with two fingers, then tilts her head back against a groove in the wall and closes her eyes.
She's been wrestling with three different trade agreements and peace treaties since this morning. Two centaur clans in the High Reaches are feuding over territory and it's gotten bad enough -- three dead, a dozen wounded, countless livestock stolen on both sides -- that Cair Paravel will have to step in. Calormen wants Narnia to relinquish her exclusive claim on Masongnong trading in the North. Telmar is complaining that Narnia is hiding its missing prince and financing a conquest disguised as a revolution. Susan will have to send someone to the High Reaches -- Edmund, maybe, or Peter if he can find the time -- find a polite way to tell Calormen that there's not a chance in hell they're getting what they want, and find an equally polite way to tell Telmar that they're crazy. Narnia has no idea where Prince Beturian is and even if they did, Peter would never bother with faking a revolution, not when he could just conquer Telmar and have done with it.
The most pressing problem is the mess in the High Reaches, which they need to take care of, and fast, because it's bad when Narnians are getting killed and worse when Narnians are killing each other. The clans won't listen to anyone except one of them; if it was anyone else, Susan might send Oreius -- he's from the Southern Marches, not the High Reaches -- but she knows he has personal connections there, and so many of the Narnians are reluctant to listen to anyone but one of them. The High Reaches clans are no exception. She'll finish writing up the peace treaty, and tomorrow she'll see who they can spare for the week or so it will take to get this problem solved.
But she doesn't want to think about that right now. She doesn't want to think about anything; all she's been doing since she woke up this morning is thinking. She just wants to close her eyes and feel the water around her, and then maybe go find Peter.
The thought of Peter makes her smile. It hasn't been long since they started...whatever this is, but it's brewing for a long time now -- since before Natare and the Red Company, maybe. And she wants it. She wants it more than she's ever wanted anything in her life -- wants this, wants him, come hell or high water -- and that she has him now...
Peter always kisses her so delicately, like he's afraid she's going to vanish from in front of him if he pushes too hard. He's just as gentle in bed, or starts out so, anyway, up until the moment when Susan claws her nails down his back and bites his neck, trying to draw blood and let him know that this is real, that this is happening. She's not going to panic and walk away from him; she's been comfortable with the fact that it's her brother she wants to share her skin with for a long time now. Peter's the one who's more likely to panic; Susan has the feeling he's still operating on the edges of wonderment, still not quite sure that this is really happening. She needs to show him that it is.
Susan draws a hand idly up her thigh under the water, rubbing her thumb lightly over her clit. There's no real desire there, but it makes her relax. Peter always leaves her sometime in the night, slipping out of bed so quietly and quickly she's not aware of his departure until she wakes up and finds herself alone. She wants him to stay, because if he stays, then he'll have to admit that this is actually happening.
The door opens behind her. Peter, Susan thinks immediately, raising her head out of the water, wet hair dripping down her back, but no; the step is too light for either of her brothers.
"Lucy," she says, looking up. "I didn't know you were back yet."
Lucy's been on the Seven Isles, which, like the rest of Narnia, have decided that the High King's absence was a perfectly acceptable time to dissolve into the beginnings of a civil war. They'd been burning coastal villages by the time someone had thought to tell Cair Paravel, and Lucy had left immediately along with half the navy.
"I came in this morning," Lucy says, coming over to stand at the opposite end of the bath from her, staring down at Susan with her arms crossed over her chest. "Susan, I -- what are you doing?"
Susan blinks in surprise, her question about the isles dying on her tongue. "I'm taking a bath?" she says instead. "There's room for one more, if you'd like." There's room for six more, really; Narnian baths are big enough and deep enough to swim in.
"No thanks," Lucy says. "You and Peter, I mean. Edmund told me, and Peter wouldn't -- what are you doing?"
Edmund is going to get the tongue-lashing of his life, and that's saying something; she's gone after him plenty of times before. "I don't think that's any of your business," Susan says, stiffening. "What Peter and I do in our own time is our affair, not yours, not Edmund's, and certainly not anyone else's."
"But it's not," Lucy insists, her throat working a little, like she's struggling not to cry. "You're -- the High King and Queen of Narnia. Brother and sister. People are going to say -- things."
"They already do, Lu, you know that. They've been saying things for years. It's not going to be any different now that there's actually something to talk about," Susan says, watching her carefully. The rumors about the royal family of Narnia have always been just that, rumors -- until now. They've always been able to laugh them off before now, but --
She's thought about this. She's thought about this a lot, and come to the conclusion that she doesn't give a damn what the rest of the known world thinks. Most of the Narnians won't find any particular fault with it, after all; they're animals. No incest taboos there, talking or not, and some of the other nonhumans aren't much different. It's the human countries that she supposes she should be worried about -- they're the ones Narnia might make marriage alliances with.
Which is the next thing Lucy says, her brow furrowed a little in concern.
"Because that's worked out so well the last dozen times," Susan points out, leaning on the side of the bath, with her chin pillowed on her folded arms. "We've both had lovers before," she says reasonably. "This isn't any different. And it's practically expected, anyway; half Narnia and most of the continent already thinks we're sleeping together."
"That doesn't mean you should!" Lucy protests. "I don't want -- I don't want --" She scrubs the heel of her hand over her face.
Susan starts to hoist herself out of the bath, meaning to pull her into a hug, then remembers that she's dripping wet and Lucy may not appreciate that. She stops, half-in and half-out, and says instead, "Lu, nothing's going to change. We know better than that."
Lucy makes a rough sound in the back of her throat. "I hope you do," she says, her voice high-pitched, and she looks very young.
Wet and naked or not, Susan pulls herself out of the bath to go to her, but Lucy pulls away, holding herself very stiffly. "I need to think about this," she tells Susan, her gaze traveling down Susan's body, scars from past battles, bruises from sparring, red marks on her skin from Peter's hands and mouth.
There's no use in being body-conscious, not in Narnia, and Susan has lost all her scruples regarding such things a long time ago. She stands still, water dripping down her body, and lets Lucy look at her. See, she doesn't say, nothing's changed since the last time you were here.
Lucy steps toward her and touches her chin lightly. "I just want you to be happy," she says at last. "Both of you. But I need to think about this." She hugs Susan once, not seeming to notice her dress dampening through, and then walks away very quickly.
She opens the door fast, nearly slamming it into Peter's face, and he jumps back, raising both hands and calling after her, "Lu, what's --"
"She's scared," Susan tells him as he comes in, letting the door fall closed behind him as Lucy shouts something back. She slips back into the bath, leaning on the side as she watches Peter.
His eyebrows go up in surprise. He must have just come in from the salle or the training ground; his hair is damp and he's wearing old clothes, the knees of his trousers rubbed and his shirt worn-looking, a stain on one sleeve. "Of what?" he asks, pulling his shirt off over his head. He pulls off his boots one by one, then unbuckles his sword belt (no sword, though, but his hunting knife hangs him from its habitual spot) and pushes his trousers down. He folds his clothes neatly and stacks them beside hers.
Susan smiles up at him, relaxed and ridiculously pleased. She doesn't think she's been so happy in years. "I think she's afraid of things changing between the four of us."
"Things always change," Peter says, slipping into the bath. "Things changed when I came back from Natare. This is considerably less traumatic for Narnia, I hope. And for Ed and Lu. And you," he adds, a little anxiously. He breaststrokes over to her and stops, standing with his feet flat on the marble floor as he wraps an arm around her waist and leans forward to kiss her. Susan cards her fingers through his hair, pulling him against her, and opens her mouth against his, deepening the kiss.
"Give us some space," he says without looking away, and Susan watches out of the corner of her eye as their bodyguards and the bath attendants leave, closing the door behind them.
She's more interested in the taste of Peter's mouth, the firm feel of his body against hers. After a moment she breaks away from him, treading water as she drifts backwards. "Come here, Peter," she invites.
Peter strokes out towards her, cupping her hips in his hands as he kisses her again. Susan wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
"Su," he says against her mouth. "Close your eyes."
Susan does, and Peter's hands drift from her hips to her bottom, then lower. He slides a finger into her, then presses another against her clit. Susan hisses slightly, letting her head fall forward against his shoulder, concentrating on the sound of Peter's breathing as he coaxes her to orgasm, growing more ragged as she lets out a sharp cry and bites his shoulder, one long shudder wracking her from head to toe.
"Peter," she gasps, hearing the strain in her voice.
He gets a hand in her hair and tilts her head up to kiss her. Peter's lips are soft and a little chapped, his mouth warm, and Susan kisses him for a long time. She opens her eyes to find him looking at her with his eyes very wide and very blue. He doesn't say anything when he cups her face in one hand and leans forward to kiss her again.
"Peter," Susan says. Her voice sounds rough to her ears, a little strange.
"Susan, I love you," he says all in a rush, and then his hands are on her hips and he's pushing into her.
Susan doesn't muffle her cry, but Peter bites her shoulder, her breath coming in short pants against her skin. His hair is soft and damp between her fingers, his scarred skin familiar as she presses a knee up along his ribs, her legs still wrapped tightly around his hips. The water buoys them up, rose petals moving in little eddies around them.
"Peter," she gasps, "Peter." His teeth are sharp against her skin, his hands strong on her hips, and god, gods --
She comes apart with the world whiting out around her, concentrating on Peter, on his body hard and familiar against hers and the strain in his breathing She's distantly aware of his hips pressing up into his hips pressing up into hers, his strangled curse as he comes.
"Su," he says.
Afterwards, a little sore but mostly so relaxed she's surprised she's not melting into the bath and becoming one with the water, Susan backs Peter up against the wall and kisses him, which he takes with good humor, wrapping one arm around her waist to brace her as she leans into him.
"I'm going to bed with you tonight," she tells him.
His eyebrows go up. "To bed?" he says. "Or to sleep?"
Always her rooms before. Not this time. This is real. This is Cair Paravel and tonight it will be the High King's chambers and the High King's bed -- real. For the High King and his queen. For Peter and Susan.
Susan kisses him again. "Both," she says.
Author:
bedlamsbardFandom: Chronicles of Narnia movieverse
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Peter's the one who's more likely to panic; Susan has the feeling he's still operating on the edges of wonderment, still not quite sure that this is really happening. Golden Age, Peter/Susan.
Warnings: Incest
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Certain characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to Walden Media. Title from the Dixie Chicks' "Truth No. 2".
No one does baths like the Calormenes -- no one does indulgence like the Calormenes -- but Susan prefers Narnian baths for all that. They're more honest, somehow. And Narnia is home -- far more important than mere luxury.
Not that Narnia can't do luxury as well. Cair Paravel has several bath houses, wide, airy constructions of white marble with the baths sunk into the floor, some of them in series of varying temperature. Susan usually has a bath drawn up in her rooms, but she's been in there all day; if she stays in there another minute she's going to go mad.
There's no one else in this particular bath house except for the attendants on duty, a swan-maid and a pair of naiads enthusiastically discussing Iberville's latest production. Susan's bodyguards murmur to each other for a few moments as she undresses, then Ehrin goes outside the door and Silvana joins the attendants, chiming in with an observation about the lead actress's portrayal of the fair pirate queen.
Susan slips into the bath, sighing a little with relief. The water is blood-warm, smooth and silky against her skin, with rose petals floating on the surface. Susan flicks at one with two fingers, then tilts her head back against a groove in the wall and closes her eyes.
She's been wrestling with three different trade agreements and peace treaties since this morning. Two centaur clans in the High Reaches are feuding over territory and it's gotten bad enough -- three dead, a dozen wounded, countless livestock stolen on both sides -- that Cair Paravel will have to step in. Calormen wants Narnia to relinquish her exclusive claim on Masongnong trading in the North. Telmar is complaining that Narnia is hiding its missing prince and financing a conquest disguised as a revolution. Susan will have to send someone to the High Reaches -- Edmund, maybe, or Peter if he can find the time -- find a polite way to tell Calormen that there's not a chance in hell they're getting what they want, and find an equally polite way to tell Telmar that they're crazy. Narnia has no idea where Prince Beturian is and even if they did, Peter would never bother with faking a revolution, not when he could just conquer Telmar and have done with it.
The most pressing problem is the mess in the High Reaches, which they need to take care of, and fast, because it's bad when Narnians are getting killed and worse when Narnians are killing each other. The clans won't listen to anyone except one of them; if it was anyone else, Susan might send Oreius -- he's from the Southern Marches, not the High Reaches -- but she knows he has personal connections there, and so many of the Narnians are reluctant to listen to anyone but one of them. The High Reaches clans are no exception. She'll finish writing up the peace treaty, and tomorrow she'll see who they can spare for the week or so it will take to get this problem solved.
But she doesn't want to think about that right now. She doesn't want to think about anything; all she's been doing since she woke up this morning is thinking. She just wants to close her eyes and feel the water around her, and then maybe go find Peter.
The thought of Peter makes her smile. It hasn't been long since they started...whatever this is, but it's brewing for a long time now -- since before Natare and the Red Company, maybe. And she wants it. She wants it more than she's ever wanted anything in her life -- wants this, wants him, come hell or high water -- and that she has him now...
Peter always kisses her so delicately, like he's afraid she's going to vanish from in front of him if he pushes too hard. He's just as gentle in bed, or starts out so, anyway, up until the moment when Susan claws her nails down his back and bites his neck, trying to draw blood and let him know that this is real, that this is happening. She's not going to panic and walk away from him; she's been comfortable with the fact that it's her brother she wants to share her skin with for a long time now. Peter's the one who's more likely to panic; Susan has the feeling he's still operating on the edges of wonderment, still not quite sure that this is really happening. She needs to show him that it is.
Susan draws a hand idly up her thigh under the water, rubbing her thumb lightly over her clit. There's no real desire there, but it makes her relax. Peter always leaves her sometime in the night, slipping out of bed so quietly and quickly she's not aware of his departure until she wakes up and finds herself alone. She wants him to stay, because if he stays, then he'll have to admit that this is actually happening.
The door opens behind her. Peter, Susan thinks immediately, raising her head out of the water, wet hair dripping down her back, but no; the step is too light for either of her brothers.
"Lucy," she says, looking up. "I didn't know you were back yet."
Lucy's been on the Seven Isles, which, like the rest of Narnia, have decided that the High King's absence was a perfectly acceptable time to dissolve into the beginnings of a civil war. They'd been burning coastal villages by the time someone had thought to tell Cair Paravel, and Lucy had left immediately along with half the navy.
"I came in this morning," Lucy says, coming over to stand at the opposite end of the bath from her, staring down at Susan with her arms crossed over her chest. "Susan, I -- what are you doing?"
Susan blinks in surprise, her question about the isles dying on her tongue. "I'm taking a bath?" she says instead. "There's room for one more, if you'd like." There's room for six more, really; Narnian baths are big enough and deep enough to swim in.
"No thanks," Lucy says. "You and Peter, I mean. Edmund told me, and Peter wouldn't -- what are you doing?"
Edmund is going to get the tongue-lashing of his life, and that's saying something; she's gone after him plenty of times before. "I don't think that's any of your business," Susan says, stiffening. "What Peter and I do in our own time is our affair, not yours, not Edmund's, and certainly not anyone else's."
"But it's not," Lucy insists, her throat working a little, like she's struggling not to cry. "You're -- the High King and Queen of Narnia. Brother and sister. People are going to say -- things."
"They already do, Lu, you know that. They've been saying things for years. It's not going to be any different now that there's actually something to talk about," Susan says, watching her carefully. The rumors about the royal family of Narnia have always been just that, rumors -- until now. They've always been able to laugh them off before now, but --
She's thought about this. She's thought about this a lot, and come to the conclusion that she doesn't give a damn what the rest of the known world thinks. Most of the Narnians won't find any particular fault with it, after all; they're animals. No incest taboos there, talking or not, and some of the other nonhumans aren't much different. It's the human countries that she supposes she should be worried about -- they're the ones Narnia might make marriage alliances with.
Which is the next thing Lucy says, her brow furrowed a little in concern.
"Because that's worked out so well the last dozen times," Susan points out, leaning on the side of the bath, with her chin pillowed on her folded arms. "We've both had lovers before," she says reasonably. "This isn't any different. And it's practically expected, anyway; half Narnia and most of the continent already thinks we're sleeping together."
"That doesn't mean you should!" Lucy protests. "I don't want -- I don't want --" She scrubs the heel of her hand over her face.
Susan starts to hoist herself out of the bath, meaning to pull her into a hug, then remembers that she's dripping wet and Lucy may not appreciate that. She stops, half-in and half-out, and says instead, "Lu, nothing's going to change. We know better than that."
Lucy makes a rough sound in the back of her throat. "I hope you do," she says, her voice high-pitched, and she looks very young.
Wet and naked or not, Susan pulls herself out of the bath to go to her, but Lucy pulls away, holding herself very stiffly. "I need to think about this," she tells Susan, her gaze traveling down Susan's body, scars from past battles, bruises from sparring, red marks on her skin from Peter's hands and mouth.
There's no use in being body-conscious, not in Narnia, and Susan has lost all her scruples regarding such things a long time ago. She stands still, water dripping down her body, and lets Lucy look at her. See, she doesn't say, nothing's changed since the last time you were here.
Lucy steps toward her and touches her chin lightly. "I just want you to be happy," she says at last. "Both of you. But I need to think about this." She hugs Susan once, not seeming to notice her dress dampening through, and then walks away very quickly.
She opens the door fast, nearly slamming it into Peter's face, and he jumps back, raising both hands and calling after her, "Lu, what's --"
"She's scared," Susan tells him as he comes in, letting the door fall closed behind him as Lucy shouts something back. She slips back into the bath, leaning on the side as she watches Peter.
His eyebrows go up in surprise. He must have just come in from the salle or the training ground; his hair is damp and he's wearing old clothes, the knees of his trousers rubbed and his shirt worn-looking, a stain on one sleeve. "Of what?" he asks, pulling his shirt off over his head. He pulls off his boots one by one, then unbuckles his sword belt (no sword, though, but his hunting knife hangs him from its habitual spot) and pushes his trousers down. He folds his clothes neatly and stacks them beside hers.
Susan smiles up at him, relaxed and ridiculously pleased. She doesn't think she's been so happy in years. "I think she's afraid of things changing between the four of us."
"Things always change," Peter says, slipping into the bath. "Things changed when I came back from Natare. This is considerably less traumatic for Narnia, I hope. And for Ed and Lu. And you," he adds, a little anxiously. He breaststrokes over to her and stops, standing with his feet flat on the marble floor as he wraps an arm around her waist and leans forward to kiss her. Susan cards her fingers through his hair, pulling him against her, and opens her mouth against his, deepening the kiss.
"Give us some space," he says without looking away, and Susan watches out of the corner of her eye as their bodyguards and the bath attendants leave, closing the door behind them.
She's more interested in the taste of Peter's mouth, the firm feel of his body against hers. After a moment she breaks away from him, treading water as she drifts backwards. "Come here, Peter," she invites.
Peter strokes out towards her, cupping her hips in his hands as he kisses her again. Susan wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
"Su," he says against her mouth. "Close your eyes."
Susan does, and Peter's hands drift from her hips to her bottom, then lower. He slides a finger into her, then presses another against her clit. Susan hisses slightly, letting her head fall forward against his shoulder, concentrating on the sound of Peter's breathing as he coaxes her to orgasm, growing more ragged as she lets out a sharp cry and bites his shoulder, one long shudder wracking her from head to toe.
"Peter," she gasps, hearing the strain in her voice.
He gets a hand in her hair and tilts her head up to kiss her. Peter's lips are soft and a little chapped, his mouth warm, and Susan kisses him for a long time. She opens her eyes to find him looking at her with his eyes very wide and very blue. He doesn't say anything when he cups her face in one hand and leans forward to kiss her again.
"Peter," Susan says. Her voice sounds rough to her ears, a little strange.
"Susan, I love you," he says all in a rush, and then his hands are on her hips and he's pushing into her.
Susan doesn't muffle her cry, but Peter bites her shoulder, her breath coming in short pants against her skin. His hair is soft and damp between her fingers, his scarred skin familiar as she presses a knee up along his ribs, her legs still wrapped tightly around his hips. The water buoys them up, rose petals moving in little eddies around them.
"Peter," she gasps, "Peter." His teeth are sharp against her skin, his hands strong on her hips, and god, gods --
She comes apart with the world whiting out around her, concentrating on Peter, on his body hard and familiar against hers and the strain in his breathing She's distantly aware of his hips pressing up into his hips pressing up into hers, his strangled curse as he comes.
"Su," he says.
Afterwards, a little sore but mostly so relaxed she's surprised she's not melting into the bath and becoming one with the water, Susan backs Peter up against the wall and kisses him, which he takes with good humor, wrapping one arm around her waist to brace her as she leans into him.
"I'm going to bed with you tonight," she tells him.
His eyebrows go up. "To bed?" he says. "Or to sleep?"
Always her rooms before. Not this time. This is real. This is Cair Paravel and tonight it will be the High King's chambers and the High King's bed -- real. For the High King and his queen. For Peter and Susan.
Susan kisses him again. "Both," she says.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-03 06:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-03 08:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-03 07:28 am (UTC)You said something about Lucy's anti-Susan vibes or something, but I'm not really picking up those vibes from her. I like Lucy in this, her worrying about her siblings and how she has to think about things first.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-03 08:43 pm (UTC)That's because the original draft had a lot more Lucy anger:
I'm glad Lucy came out sympathetic in this version, though!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-03 12:32 pm (UTC)I particularly liked the detail of their guards and attendants- more coherent feedback soon, I promise!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-03 08:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-03 02:58 pm (UTC)I really liked Lucy in this, with her concern for her siblings, and for Narnia. You really got a lot in that short bit with her, how upsetting this was for her.
And oh, Susan. Peter. Such a bad idea, but what else could they do? Who else IS there for them? It just seems like it's all part of that inevitable tragedy this is the end of the Golden Age. Everything is going to fall apart for them, and there's going to be nothing that can fix it, and they're just going to be so broken.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-03 08:56 pm (UTC)The entire Golden Age is just one big tragedy. OH NARNIA.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-04 08:45 am (UTC)Oh and I praise the details too. I am very fond of authors who has the heart to add small details in their story.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-04 04:20 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-04 11:34 pm (UTC)In this piece in particular, the languidness, the surety of the two - it's gorgeous. Once I thought I could never read any kind of incest fic, and yet how you write it makes sense.
Happy sigh.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-05 12:13 am (UTC)I think they just know each other so well, in body and mind, that even if they haven't been sleeping together very long, well...it doesn't matter. Because it's almost a natural progression. (A screwed up natural progression, but hi, this is Narnia we're talking about. Screwed up is the name of the game.)