A/N: Felt like writing a bit of humor, so I picked up one of my favorite couples who have five years of mystery to poke around with. Read and review! Thank ye.

New Recipe: Ocean Cake

One teaspoon of salt...
-An Anonymous Piece of Paper

Trap entered the house nervously, not sure what exactly he planned to do but knowing she needed some sort of comfort, and with Abramm gone she did not have much more than him–at least, that's what she had told him a week ago, despite when he tried to point out Queen Madeleine's presence.

He looked into her sitting room, expecting to find her precisely were she was: reading with a morbid expression, a cup of tea at her elbow. Quietly he slipped back out, not sure what he was would do but feeling called to the kitchen. Once there, he stopped and turned around one time, taking in all that it had to offer. Spices, breads, candies, flour...

He recalled Carissa saying she enjoyed a certain kind of cake, and as soon as he remembered he determined that it must be made. By himself. Calling on the cook, he got the recipe before banishing everyone else from the kitchen. It would be good for him to do something for her–it would make her feel better if she knew he had made her something himself. And cooking couldn't be terribly hard, could it?

Pulling on an apron he found, he searched for all the ingredients and measured them out carefully, pouring them into one bowl. He mixed them together as his directions instructed, heated the oven accordingly, and put the mix into the oven. Keeping an eye on his pocket-watch, he cleaned while it baked. Finally, after near an hour of hard work, it was ready to be taken out.

After setting it on the counter to cool, he went in search of some sort of frosting to cover it with. Chocolate, he thought. She likes chocolate with little chips sprinkled on top.

Having found what he wanted, he set about lathering the cake in a good layer of sweetness. The strange thing was, that no matter how much he put on, it seemed to sink into the cake. It must be too hot, he decided after several failed attempts. He sat back and waited.

His patience eventually became thin, and he tried again. This time it worked. He made a quick job of frosting it and placing it on a decorative plate. Then, proudly, he made his way out to Carissa.

She looked up, surprised, from her book. "Trap! What–" she saw the cake and blinked.

Triumphantly he placed the cake on the table beside her. "For you, milady."

She still looked very surprised. "You–you made this?"

He could not help grinning. Wiping some flour off his sleeve, he announced that he had. "In the hope that it would cheer you," he added.

"Oh, Trap!" She hugged him tightly around the waist a moment, then turned back to the (very lopsided) cake. "What are we to eat it with?"

Trap blinked. He had forgotten about extra plates and forks. "I can get a servant to bring..."

"No, no, it's fine," Carissa cut him off quickly. She grinned back at him playfully. "We'll just eat with our fingers."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Sit down!"

Obediently he sat. He hesitated slightly, letting her take the first bite. Smiling expectantly, she scooped out a generous handful and ate it, rather like a dog would eat a treat. Trap took his handful and ate it, too.

At the first bite, it tasted fine. But as he tasted the second he began to sense something was terribly wrong with his cake. He glanced at Carissa (who was on her third bite) to see if she had noticed, but she was drinking her tea thirstily. On the next bite he could confidently say what was wrong: The cake tasted like salt.

A sinking feeling entered his gut as he realized what he must have done. He'd misread teaspoon for tablespoon. It was like eating the ocean now.

"Do you like salt?" Carissa coughed, drinking more of her tea.

He felt his already hot face get hotter. "I—uh—I must have misread something… I'm sorry…"

She laughed. It was good to hear her laughing again. "It's the thought that counts, right? Besides, it's not too bad…"

He made a face. "I would hate to think what you think is good if this isn't that bad."

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "you know, we can't just let it go to waste. What should we do?"

"Give it to the dogs?" Trap suggested.

She took another handful and looked at it, pondering. "Yes, or—" Quite suddenly she looked at him and the next thing he knew her handful of cake was on his vest.

Startled a moment, he blinked at the vest, then her, then the vest. She was laughing herself to death on the other chair.

Feeling a mischievous grin pulling on his mouth, he took a chunk of the cake and threw it at her.

Neither could say afterwards what happened during the precious minutes before the cake was depleted to crumbs. Both were crying with laughter when there was nothing left to throw. Trap wiped a tear from his eye, then saw the frosting he had smashed into her hair and started laughing all over again.

When they had composed themselves relatively well, they examined the mess they'd made.

"Well," said Trap.

"Thank you, Trap," smiled Carissa. "That was the best cake I've ever had."