Sequel to "The Perils of Constancy." All the silliness seems to have ended up in this one; I guess the characters needed a break. Future installments will include expected amounts of lust and angst (langst?).

Lewis Carroll and Tim Burton own these characters, aside from Casiphia.

A Place at the Table

There was an old man of Dumblane,
Who greatly resembled a crane;
But they said, - 'Is it wrong,
Since your legs are so long,
To request you won't stay in Dumblane?'

There was an old person of Loo,
Who said, 'What on earth shall I do?'
When they said, 'Go away!' --
She continued to stay,
That vexatious old person of Loo.

~Edward Lear

Ilosovic Stayne knew it was going to be difficult to enter the White Queen's court after his tenure as Iracebeth's Knave. This was inevitable. He knew that, the Queen knew that, his paramour and champion Casiphia knew that. It would take time and a good deal of exemplary behavior on Stayne's part before he could earn the trust of the courtiers and palace staff, or at least their respect, and there was nothing to be done about that.

Therefore he and Casiphia chose to be unobtrusive, keeping largely to themselves for the first couple of weeks, spending most of their time in her quarters or the chambers he had been given, located conveniently near the courtiers' wing.

They took some walks about the grounds, but by and large avoided the company of others, with the exception of the Queen, who paid them a visit daily to discuss the transition and give advice. This isolation was difficult for two people who were accustomed to travelling about Underland and having a great deal of freedom, but it was especially troublesome for Stayne.

This became abundantly clear one afternoon as he sat with Casiphia in her quarters while she worked on a piece of embroidery—a traditional lady-in-waiting occupation, yes, but one she rather enjoyed—and played "Will It Slice?" with his sword and a variety of items around the room. Firewood: Yes, with some effort. Andiron: No. Decorative cushion: My, that contained quite a lot of down for such a small pillow, did it not? And the book she was in the middle of: Yes—until Casiphia rose in a temper and shoved Stayne out of the room, throwing the partly-severed book after him as he fled laughing down the hall.

It took much cajoling and begging and a promise of strawberries and cream with her afternoon tea before she would let him back in, not to mention a pristine new copy of the book. And when she did at last open the door, she said, "Sword!" and pointed to a far corner of the room, where he was obliged to leave it while he kept her company.

* * *

There was a young lady in white,
Who looked out at the depths of the night;
But the birds of the air,
Filled her heart with despair,
And oppressed that young lady in white.

There was an old man of Dumbree,
Who taught little owls to drink tea;
For he said, 'To eat mice,
Is not proper or nice'
That amiable man of Dumbree.

~Edward Lear

The other members of the White Court were not entirely sure what to make of this new arrival, as was obvious the first night he joined them for dinner. The court took their evening meal at a long table in the banquet hall, and the hush as Stayne and Casiphia entered the room together was eloquent. As they took chairs at the corner at the far end of the table from Mirana, Casiphia kept her knee pressed tightly up against his own for what reassurance that might offer, and poured him both a cup of tea and a glass of wine, for whichever would put him more at ease.

Queen Mirana was gracious and invited him into the conversation, which went some ways towards helping the other diners to relax around him. Not that it was an entirely comfortabale evening, by any means, but the only place to start was the beginning (although starting at the middle would have been easier for everyone), and start they had.

"You're handling this beautifully," she said softly, keeping their conversation as private as she could. "I doubt I could do the same."

"Milady, a little social discomfort is tea and scones compared to a standard day with Iracebeth."

This made sense. "But still, there would be easier places for you to be than at Marmoreal."

"My dear, I'm not so much of a loner as to wish to live in the woods by myself, which would be the next best option. I'm hoping to have productive work here once I prove my trustworthiness, and I do like to be of service to someone who can use my talents." He leaned closer and breathed into her ear. "Such as the wonderful woman who believes in my better nature."

Casiphia blushed, and hoped no one noticed.

"I do have one question, however," he said. "Why is that man across the table watching me so intently?"

"Ahh," Casiphia sighed. "That is Oran. Our parents had hoped we would marry, but alas, it was not to be," she said with a cough. "He must be watching you to see what it is that I like in a man."

"What did you not like in him?"

"He's simply not interesting. He's good with numbers and accounting, but he doesn't read or ride or care about much of anything beyond this palace. I prefer someone intriguing."

"This means you find me interesting, then?"

"You, my dear, are perhaps the most complicated person I have ever met. And that is fascinating."

Nonplussed, Stayne diverted the subject back to its starting point. "So, is this Oran likely to present a problem to either you or me?"

Casiphia all but snorted. "Oran hasn't spoken barely a word to me in six years. Six years. I don't see this being a problem, and if it is, the problem is all his."

'Then I shan't sleep with my sword under the bed."

"Oh, you might still want to do that. Just not because of him."

* * *

There was an Old Man of the North,
Who fell into a basin of broth;
But a laudable cook,
Fished him out with a hook,
Which saved that Old Man of the North.

~Edward Lear

What went the farthest to ingratiate the Knave with the court at Marmoreal was a small but widely appreciated incident. He and Casiphia were walking through the kitchens on their way to the vegetable garden, when Stayne suddenly reached up a hand and plucked a Thackery-thrown teacup from the air without even breaking stride. Several kitchen workers chuckled, a few even applauded, and Ilosovic sketched a small bow before setting the teacup gently on a countertop and continuing on.

Absurd as it was, Casiphia felt a bit of a flip in her stomach at his grace, and tucked his arm a bit closer to hers as he looked down at her and gave her a bit of a smile.

Soon the news of that exploit had made its way through the palace—no one had caught anything thrown by the hare within memory—and the couple began receiving the occasional smile and word of greeting. Oran studiously avoided them, but as he been doing so with Casiphia for years, that was nothing particularly discomfiting about that.

Not that all challenges had been conquered—not by any means—but it seemed that perhaps Ilosovic Stayne would find a niche at Marmoreal without too much hindrance after all.