Long ago, in fictionland far far away, a ship happened upon the coast of a charming little country that looked quite a lot like the England of Jane Austen's books. Searching for a place of refuge, a fictional noble set foot on the shore of this land, which was rumored to have fewer Mary Sues than the other countries. In fact, it was viewed as a mythical place, where no one ever had gay orgies unless their author meant for them to do so. After years of searching, Prince Caspian had finally found this place, and was prepared to fight with its leader, or even have a gay orgy—whatever it would take to get him out of Peter's embrace and back into canon.
…
"So," the handsome gentleman said quietly, standing in front of the crowd of what looked to be unsavory characters. "We meet at last."
"Damn right, we meet at last," an almost unrealistically attractive young man growled, stepping out from behind a group of very confused-looking British children. "I hear you're the fellow with the Sues." The gentleman nodded.
"Are you proposing a duel? By all means, take the Sues if you want them so badly." A crowd of giggling twenty-first century girls in eighteenth century clothing stood about twenty feet away. The Dawn Treader was docked on the English shoreline, and things were about to 'get real', as some of the Sues would say.
"I don't want the fucking Sues," Prince Caspian growled, unsheathing his sword. "I want in on whatever it is you've got here. There's no random gay rape, there are only, like, one thousand Sues…How on earth did you manage this?" He looked at Mr. Darcy in shock.
"It's what happens when you're written up in the seventeen hundreds," he replied with a dark and slightly Robert Downey Jr.-esque grin. "Only the classiest Sues show up—and since so few Sues have the ability to be classy, there's none too many around." He quickly beheaded a wandering member of the leagues of the undead. "Helluva lot of zombies, though."
"This is intense," Prince Caspian muttered, shaking his head and looking over the English countryside. "I hear that other great works of literature reside here, too. Does that mean…"
"We don't allow Harry Potter into our fine fictional country," Darcy replied, frowning in distaste. "We would offer him refuge, but there's simply too much slash—and that Ebony Way—the risk of her appearing here is far too great." He sighed. "We do, however, have Heathcliff. He's a semi-decent fellow. Oh, and the Phantom of the Opera lives here, but he spends most of his days hiding because he doesn't speak the native language and therefore cannot control the Sues."
"What about slash?" PC asked, looking around at the members of his crew. "I've…done some terrible things. Things no one should ever have to explain to anyone." He shuddered.
"Yeah, bro, shit happens," Darcy replied, patting him on the shoulder. "It's cool. You can chill."
The End.