[Cant - welsh, "white"
[Leverett - french, "young rabbit"
[Irvyn - celtic, "white"
[mood music : be my escape - relient k
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The Cat had always ruled Wonderland.
No doubt about that. Cheshire was the sole enemy of the Queen (besides, of course, any unfortunates who happened to annoy her, and they usually ended up with everything above their shoulders displaced by the end of the day), and he, of course, saw no threat from her. Queen liked to pretend she governed everything, for her title allowed it, but Cheshire, with all his chaos and insanity, held total control. He simply had to raise a finger, and every creature in existence would bend to his will. No one was quite sure if it was enchantment or pure intimidation, but I figured he did make a better leader than some of the other possibilities.
There was a sort of chain in effect at the moment. As it goes, I happened to remain steadily at the bottom, unnoticed and unharmed. For the most part. I was the royal couple's messenger boy, little more than a pet and a servant. The royal couple, in turn, were after the Cat, who happened to be spending more and more time with Hatter (who, in my opinion, preferred the company of the March Hare-- no, I will not elaborate), who knew the Dormouse (or more correctly, used the Dormouse as a plaything), who happened to be an acquaintance of mine. He kept me filled in with all the goings-on outside of the palace that I couldn't collect with simple daily message-travels.
Although things got a tad more complicated when Cheshire began to notice my role in the whole scheme of things.
Of course, the messenger boy's loyalty would be a valuable commodity.
It's rather difficult to forget certain circumstances when they never cease to repeat themselves. The Cat started things slowly; I could almost tell he thought I was fragile. Cornering me every so often, usually on my way through the forest, he would walk with me, ask me casual questions ("And where are you off to today, Rabbit?" "Yes... Already? Really?"), feigning an interest I knew he never posessed. He could care less about castle life and what it entailed, be it how often the Queen demanded a beheading or when the next ceremony was. He was trying, and failing, mostly, to gain my trust. Although I have to say, it was rather fun to be able to stick my nose up at him. He made me feel educated and important, simply because I was important in his eyes.
The way he acted around me made me assume he found me intelligent, at least. He was making a conscientious effort to see me as an equal, and at that point, I hadn't heard a single demeaning comment in my direction. Though, that isn't to say he stopped himself from gossiping about others in my presence.
One thing I learned about him was that he was very good at keeping up a steady conversation, even when I wasn't. He was extremely sure of himself, which, I suppose, was to be expected, but he could be awfully polite when he felt like it.
He behaved himself. And, in turn, I began to let him in.
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King had always been good to me, especially when the Queen wasn't in the mood for being kind. As long as I played my part, and played it well, he would be there to comfort me and keep my well-fed, well-dressed and happy. Everything I wanted wasn't necessarily laid out before me, sometimes I was required to work for it, but it usually, eventually found its way to me. Though Queen had been the one to pick me out in the first place, King protected me from her when she went off on one of her raging fits and insisted on having me killed. I, for all my speed and agility, could never consistently meet her impossible demands, and I don't think I'd be able to make myself run if she told me I was to have my head cut off. I was too devoted to her kingdom, to her wishes, to everything.
Which was why I was so ashamed with myself when I began to go along with the Cat's insane plans.
At first, it was just simple things. "Come with me to see Hatter, Rabbit!" And I enjoyed it, this new feeling of being valuable and special and not just a simple servant who was nice to have, but essentially replaceable.
He always called me Rabbit, never Irvyn or Cant, never any of the various names I'd acquired over the years. After some time, I grew tired of the name, insisting he call me something else. He eventually grew to like the name Leverett, and decided it suited me just fine, never once consulting me on the choice.
King didn't need a name to yell out when we had sex. That was below him. He still appreciated it when I did it, though.
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Visits to the Hatter were always amusing, to say the least.
From the moment I stepped through the doors of the Tea-Party, I could sense the slight shift in things. Even the wrought-iron gate, twisted in ways unimagineable, that lead the way into the garden seemed to say "This is our party. Reality has no place here." I knew how Time worked here, or, more correctly, didn't. I assumed that was what drew Cheshire to the Tea-Party in the first place-- the lack of obligations. And somehow, it seemed to be working on me as well.
It was contagious, I concluded. Perhaps it was one of Hatter's tricks, or Cheshire's enchantments, but I simply didn't want to leave somedays.
Coming there for the first time was interesting, to say the least. I learned two things immediately: Tea was a must, and whatever Hatter says, goes. Even the rather unruly Cat seemed to understand that. The Mad Hatter seemed almost out of place amidst the rest of the Wonderland creatures, with his cool demeanor and constantly pensive attitude. He seemed to have taken a liking to Cheshire, though, which seemed to be taken for granted on the part of the latter.
The other two creatures weren't exactly bad company, either. Dormouse, who I'd met various times before, wasn't as shy as he initially came off as. While Hatter and Cheshire conversed over tea, huddled together in one corner, he and I chatted about nothing in particular, although he seemed to have a distinct interest in the ways of the castle people, and would always ask me what the gardens were like, or if the other servants were friendly, and such. The March Hare was somewhat whiny, almost bratty, but he had a lovely face, and I often found myself curled up in his lap, him playing idly with my ears as we listened to one of Hatter and Cheshire's many debates.
I still didn't trust the Cat in the least. The creatures he chose as friends, however, were a different story.