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Down the garden path
Dante in Wonderland
Permalink Mark Unread

It was a few minutes after the bell had rung for the end of the day and Dante was just leaving school premises.

He frowned a little, sighing. He'd been excited for school this morning, had some kind of ineffable feeling that it'd be different for once. He wasn't sure what in particular – maths had gone by normally, computing was boring as ever, French was okay but – as ever – a bit tiresome what with the small class size, and chemistry wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

He really thought today might've been different.

A left after going out the school gate, he continues until the hedge ends and walks a couple of blocks, then heads through a park on his way home. It's very green, lots of trees.

He likes how pretty it is, especially on days like these.

Permalink Mark Unread

Peaceful, too.

That is, until a large white rabbit comes hopping past, dressed in a bonnet and apron and babbling to itself in panic.

"Oh dear, oh dear, I'm going to be late!" 

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He blinks and looks after it, then runs to catch up with it.

"– I'm sorry, what?"

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She darts a look over her shoulder at him, but doesn't slow down.

"Can't stop, going to be late!" 

She keeps running, bouncing along at a surprising pace. 

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"You – are a rabbit –?"

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"Wha – um, yes?"

Still not stopping, although she has now slowed down a little. 

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"Rabbits do not talk!"

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Her ears flick down, and back up. 

"Um, sorry?"

She's half turned around to talk to him, but is still hopping forwards, and looks in danger of bumping into something.

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"Animals are not known to talk! You don't need to apologize, just –!"

He is still trying to keep up with her, seems to be looking behind her in case she hits something.

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"Sorry?" the rabbit replies, half apology and half confusion.

"I don't really have time to explain, I need to get back –"

She gestures vaguely in front of her.

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"– Can you just – show me where –?"

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"Oh, here it is!"

Half-hidden under the hedge is a large hole in the ground. It's far bigger than a rabbit needs, big enough that Dante could fit through it, although it would be a little bit of a squeeze. 

The rabbit hops up to the hole and makes to jump down it, holding on tightly to her bonnet with one paw, and her basket with the other. 

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He dashes forward to try to – grab her, follow her, maybe just make a dramatic gesture to get her to pause – and trips over his own feet, falling towards the hole.

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He falls in at almost the same time as the rabbit, tumbling down a slippery spiral which goes far deeper underground than it appeared from the surface.

Strangely, he does not seem to be falling particularly fast, although the benefits of this are somewhat reduced by the fact that he is travelling head-first, and is therefore less able to see where he is going. 

Permalink Mark Unread

He – he would not like to scream, that would not help, he would like to be able to see around himself without hitting himself against anything but he doesn't know if that's possible – can he twist around?

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Somewhat, although it's difficult, and he can get a better look around at what he's sliding past. At one point there's a set of fine china in a display cabinet against the wall. 

Pretty soon, the spiral slide vanishes from under him - unexpectedly, since he still can't see where he's going - and he finds himself falling through empty space, although not as fast as he might expect. The rabbit pulls out a parasol from somewhere and opens it, slowing her own fall even further. 

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Dante does not have a parasol and would like to – not hit his head on the ground, not fall head first.

Is the empty space actually empty or does it have a colour or – what?

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The walls seem to still be the same packed earth as before, but they're further away and more cluttered with objects and picture frames and tapestries. He's falling slowly enough that he has time to appreciate the decor as it goes past, and can now turn himself the right way up if he pushes off something. 

Maybe this conveniently placed chair sticking out sideways from the wall?

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He does! Convenient chair helps!

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Then he will continue to drift downwards, right-side-up.

The rabbit is falling somewhat slower, and begins to lag behind.

One of the portraits on the wall, a plump, smiling nun set at a 45-degree angle, waves at him as he passes. 

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… He waves back and tries to keep his expression less obviously confused.

It doesn't work very well.

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Below them, the ground begins to come into view, although it's still a long way off. 

They are falling towards a massive chessboard, where the squares are fields and woods, and the borders are roads and rivers. A massive palace rises in the centre, built of shining dark stone. Its grounds are encircled by a dense labyrinth. 

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What and why – okay he's going to try to keep track of what square he's in, orientation, that sounds possibly important –

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As he watches, the village in the top-left square vanishes, replaced by an empty field of corn, and reappears down towards the bottom right of the board.

Other squares also seem to be swapping places, although less obviously.

The palace and labyrinth remain constant. They seem to be falling towards a square off one corner of the labyrinth.

Permalink Mark Unread

Oh, convenient, he's being placed near somewhere likely important, okay. He was really not expecting this, he really wasn't expecting this whole thing except insofar as he expected something, but okay.

Can he see a path through the labyrinth, an overground maze that he can memorize a rule of – he doesn't know that he has much time and he'd really rather not waste it.

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By the time he thinks of this, they've drifted too low for him to be able to trace a path through the labyrinth. The ground is steadily approaching. 

They seem to be landing in a lightly wooded square devoid of any man-made structures. There's a river bordering it on one side, with a bridge in the centre of the square's edge. The other edges are a dirt track, a fence, and a hedge.

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… And which way is the labyrinth? Is it fence-wards?

He really hopes the landing doesn't hurt.

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The sides closest to the labyrinth are the dirt path and the fence, both of which run up to its corner. 

The landing does not, in fact, hurt. He drifts gently downwards to land no more heavily than if he had fallen or jumped a couple of feet. 

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He makes sure not to trip or something and looks around for the rabbit.

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Parasol unfurled above her, she floats out of the empty blue sky above them and lands next to Dante, as lightly as a feather. 

"Um, so...welcome to Wonderland?"

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"… I don't think I caught your name and if you have a 'top ten list of warnings for Wonderland' I would really like to hear that."

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"I'm the White Rabbit," she says, as if it's an answer to his question. The capital letters are practically audible; it might in fact be her name.

"And you are?"

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"Dante –"

He pauses.

He squints a little.

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She is oblivious. "Pleased to meet you, Dante! Welcome to Wonder - oops, I already said that." 

A sudden ringing from her apron pocket startles her, and she jumps at least a foot into the air.

"Oh no! I'm late!"

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"– Late for what? And is there a way out of here?"

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"I have to get back to work, in the palace," she explains hurriedly, gesturing in the direction of its tall towers.

"There are ways to get out, but most of them require magic of some kind. I don't think you could fit through the tunnels, so you'd have to ask the Queen - or Everless the Raven might know if there's a non-magical way - look, I should really go now, I'm sorry."

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"Can I come with?"

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"I...suppose so," she says, somewhat dubious.

"Follow me, then!"

And without further ado, she bounds off in the direction of the labyrinth.

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He starts off after her!

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Hopefully he can keep up, because she's going at quite a speed, and isn't going to slow down for him.

At the entrance to the labyrinth, she takes a small card, about the size and shape of a playing card, out of her pocket and waves it at some topiary cut in the shape of an oversized horse's head.

"He's with me," she says, waving a paw vaguely behind her in the presumed direction of Dante.

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Dante can be found there! (Dante really wishes he had done more running before all this.)

He continues to follow.

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They enter the labyrinth.

The White Rabbit navigates its many twists and turns and junctions with more confidence than she has displayed in her interactions with Dante thus far, barely pausing once. Their path winds around the palace, which appears first on one side and then the other above the high hedges. 

Is that the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the hedge on their right? 

Permalink Mark Unread

… It sounds it! Dante is just following the rabbit, though, and will try to keep away from the hedge while still doing that.

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They keep going through the labyrinth. It feels, from the inside, like it's bigger than it looked from above. 

The unseen footsteps - which, with continued exposure, are beginning to sound less like normal footsteps - continue to pace them on their right, despite them going past several openings and turnings on that side. 

After a while, the footsteps are joined by a low, rumbling growl. 

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"– Why is there something chasing us?" hisses Dante.

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She jumps, and looks around wildly.

"I can't see any - eep!" 

The growling gets louder.

"I think the labyrinth guard forgot to tell the rest of them not to hunt you!"

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"They wouldn't politely listen if I told them, would they!"

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"I don't know! This has never happened before!"

She hunches down on the path, trembling.

"Oh dear oh dear oh dear..." 

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"– Should I run away?" he hisses, trying not to be so audible.

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"There's no point, they're all through the labyrinth - and you don't know the way out - "

The White Rabbit is taking her own advice and not going anywhere.

The growling now seems to be coming from the hedges on both sides, and is getting closer, as if it is coming through the foliage towards them. 

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"… I don't have malicious intent?" he says, aloud – maybe they can hear him?

He also starts to raise his hands.

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As if in response to his words, something steps out onto the path in front of them.

It seems to have the shape of a lion, but its body is made entirely of living foliage, the same stuff which makes up the hedges on either side. In fact, someone who was looking closely might have noticed that, rather than emerging from a side passage or from around a bend, it stepped straight out of the hedge, leaving no trace of its passing. 

Padding forwards with deliberate slowness, it steps right over the cowering rabbit and heads straight for Dante. 

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"… I surrender!" He would not like to be eaten! He has his hands up and is backing away slowly!

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"Do you now," a voice growls from behind him.

From the sound of it, the speaker is a man, a little taller than Dante and probably a lot tougher. 

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He tries really hard not to eep, and spins around to get a look at them.

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The speaker is a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in brown, black, and green, with an impressive bristling beard that makes him look somewhat leonine himself. His cloak is held in place by a chain strung across his chest, from which dangle eight heart-shaped red gems, each a little smaller than one of Dante's fists. 

He glares down at Dante.

"You have one minute," he says, "to explain why I shouldn't set my lions on you." 

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"Could I have some reason that you should first so I can actually argue against it –?"

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"You appear to be a trespasser," he explains with poorly-concealed impatience. 

"You followed the White Rabbit into my labyrinth, having somehow persuaded her to show you the way, and were noticed by my sentinels."

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"I didn't know that this was private property I shouldn't be going on and to my knowledge I haven't been told how to leave – and as far as I know siccing a lion on me would be breaking the law worse than trespass!"

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"Ignorance is not an excuse," is the stern response.

"And I am an agent of the law - it is my duty to deal with trespassers, and I have the right to do so however I see fit."

As an afterthought, he adds, "Thirty seconds."

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"I – do you have jurisdiction over a foreign visitor?"

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He doesn't even pause to think about it. 

"Of course I do; you're on the Queen's land." 

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"Which queen? Do you have routes for people to get permits, does it aid you any to kill me – what if I have knowledge from another world you might like, I don't know what you have here –"

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"Um - he's with me," the White Rabbit says hesitantly, having hopped closer to stand next to Dante.

She stares up at the Eight of Hearts, trembling but determined.

"I - I was taking him to see Her Majesty."

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… Does that seriously get him a pass.

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Eight's frown deepens. 

"I think I'd better escort you myself," he says. "Just to be sure."

He gestures, and the labyrinth rearranges itself until there is a broad path leading straight towards the palace, with no turnings. An exact copy of the White Rabbit, made out of leaves like the lion, hops out of the hedge onto the path in front of them.

"Follow the rabbit," he instructs. It's not a request.

Permalink Mark Unread

(Why are there leaf animals. He forgot to wonder that earlier.)

Dante does as instructed.

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They walk down the path. Two of the lions pace Dante and the White Rabbit on either side, while their master stalks behind and the leafy rabbit hops ahead. It travels at a much faster pace than the rest of the group, and is soon a long way ahead. 

Long before they reach the end of the labyrinth, the White Rabbit's green double is out of sight. 

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"– I'm going to have difficulty following it," he comments, trying not to sound… rebellious. Nothing that'll get him savaged.

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"The path is straight," argues the rumbling voice behind him. "Even a blind man could follow it."

After a pause, he explains, "It has gone ahead to warn the Queen that I am bringing her a prisoner to examine. You need not worry about keeping pace."

Permalink Mark Unread

How was Dante to know the stupid labyrinth wouldn't also have some deadly traps up ahead that he had to navigate.

(… Sure, it might look like a clear path to the palace, but they have leaf creatures.)

He keeps going.

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The labyrinth shifts around them every so often, but the path they follow is unaffected. If Dante looks behind him, he may notice that each shift puts a dead end right behind the Eight of Hearts, blocking any possible escape route other than straight ahead.

After about half a mile of walking, they reach the end of the labyrinth, and it opens out into a beautifully-ordered garden. In front of them is the palace, gleaming black and white, with steps leading up to a grand entrance. The green rabbit comes back to guide Dante now that the way is no longer quite as obvious.

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Dante continues to follow the rabbit, looking around at the garden in case anything interesting or useful presents itself.

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A few of the flowers nod at him as the group walk past.

In the distance, there are a few gardeners working. Over on the left three of them seem to be fussing over a rose bush; on the right one is picking up fallen leaves from the lawn. None of them seem to be touching the flowers. 

The green rabbit hops up the steps and through the double doors, which are flanked by two guards in white tabards bearing a symbol which appears to be a highly stylised black tree: a cloud with three bumps above a narrowing trunk. The one on the left has three of the tree symbols in a diagonal line across his chest, while the one on the right has the same design but with an extra two forming an X shape. 

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… Hello scary guards, Dante would try to act confident and like he knows what he's doing but he thinks he might in fact not have a single clue today.

He tentatively walks forwards, hoping he is not attacked while doing so. (Presumably they would not have brought him the whole way only to kill him? He hopes.)

(… Why tree symbols.)

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He is not attacked even a little bit. In fact, the guards completely ignore the entire party, an impressive feat given that it consists of two humans, three walking bushes and a rabbit wearing clothes. They offer no opinion on the tree symbols. 

Inside, the palace continues to alternate black and white marble, draped with scarlet hangings and with red carpets laid out across the checkerboard floor. The green rabbit still seems perfectly certain of its way, and continues straight ahead. The lions wait at the door, and are replaced by two more guards, these ones with two and four of the tree symbols respectively. 

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Numbering, maybe sequential somehow – seniority? It's like sides of a dice, there's a, quincunx was he thinks the word – not relevant, why – he might make a joke about seeing the forest for the trees but he can't think of one and also now is not the time –

How does one find oneself dragged into a mysteryland after following a white rabbit and then find out about presumably magic, get arrested and then retain one's ability to do things, he doesn't want to be enslaved as the local mortal if he even counts – they might all be mortal, he might not be valuable.

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He is led through increasingly impressive halls, lined with pillars and paintings and tapestries. A common theme in the artwork, if he pays attention, is the triumph of a red-haired queen wielding a heart-shaped sceptre over a variety of foes: a king dressed in red, an army of shadowy monstrous figures, a dragon-like monstrosity in green...

They come to another set of double doors. These are not obviously guarded, but are attended by a pair of unarmed servants in the same white tabards. These ones have a different symbol, which Dante will recognise as the suit of Spades. The one on the left has three Spade symbols and the one on the right has six. 

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… Were those clubs earlier. Are these playing cards. Why are these playing cards. (The numbers don't seem to match, they're not in pairs like he expected, why would three and six match up.)

He hesitates and tries to figure out if he can risk asking a question.

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"Keep moving," the Eight of Hearts grunts from behind him. 

The servants open the doors, revealing a large room bustling with richly-dressed courtiers. At the far end, a dais is barely visible, framed in red velvet hangings. Music is playing, at just the right volume to be heard over the quiet chatter of the crowd. 

People begin to clear a path for them, towards the dais. The green rabbit seems to have vanished at some point, but the way is clear.

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… Eugh.

Dante walks ahead, trying to look – not meek, but also not liable to cause trouble.

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As the crowd parts, a figure is revealed, seated on a throne atop the dais. 

She is dressed in black and red, with accents of white fur, and has a necklace strung with the same red gems worn by the Eight of Hearts. There's also one set in her crown, a little larger and somehow redder than the others. Her train looks like spilled blood pooling on the white marble steps. 

"Bow," the White Rabbit whispers to Dante.

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(He does not want to bow.)

He bows. He tries to bow the appropriate quantity, taking cues from people around if he can.

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This seems to be acceptable. 

"So," she says.

"You are the outsider who followed the White Rabbit into my kingdom?"

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"… I take it so, ma'am?"

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The queen looks straight at Dante, staring in a way that seems to pierce his soul.

"And why did you do that?" she asks, voice giving no hints as to what answer she would like to hear.

Around them, the room seems to have gone much quieter as the members of the court pretend not to be listening in.

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"… Talking rabbits are unheard of, where I'm from… milady."

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"Interesting," is the response.

"I would be pleased if you would tell me more about the place from whence you came," she continues, gesturing for a servant - the Seven of Spades - to bring Dante a chair. It is placed on a lower step of the dais so that he has to look up at her. 

"My servants visit the upper world on occasion, but can tell me little of its workings. I would welcome the perspective of a native."

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"– Of course," he responds. (What's the title, what do you use to refer to a queen, he should know this he lives in bloody England – oh –) "Your Highness."

… He takes a seat, assuming it is not some sort of trap.

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If it is a trap, it is not one which makes itself immediately obvious.

The Eight of Hearts bows and departs, lions trailing after him; the White Rabbit does likewise. 

"Tell me about your world," the Queen instructs Dante. "How, in your opinion, does it differ from what you have seen of my kingdom?"

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"The – style of artwork, environment, architecture?" he says. "I haven't seen any large modern buildings, here, and we don't have labyrinths – the ground isn't a chessboard?"

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She nods thoughtfully.

"And how is your country governed? Does it have a queen?"

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"– It does but she's I think what's called a constitutional monarch, where we have a separate government and she's mostly just a figurehead for I think kinda PR purposes?"

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"Really?" 

She sounds fascinated, as though Dante is the most interesting thing to happen all week.

"Why on earth would any monarch permit such a state of affairs?" she wonders. 

"And who is the true power in your queendom, then?"

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"I… um, there was a history I think wherein the monarchs did not treat people as they wished to be treated, and – um, eventually there was some sort of rebellion." He does not want to be killed but he hesitates to see her reaction before he continues.

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The queen looks unsurprised by this. 

"I, too, face the occasional rebellion," she agrees.

"Some of my subjects simply refuse to acknowledge my authority, and do their best to undermine it. But fortunately, their best is never very good, the poor dears," she says with a conspiratorial smirk.

"So, your monarchs were less capable, or less lucky, and have lost almost all real power. To be replaced with...what, exactly?"

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"Um, we have two houses in our parliament, the House of Lords and the Commons – the Lords are I think entitled to things based on historical land ownership and titles but also some are voted in by other Lords, the Commons are voted in by people of the rest of the country, and the main government is made up of the group leading in power in the Commons?"

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"What a peculiar way of doing things," is her verdict. 

"I do not believe it would ever catch on in Wonderland. Even the most insane of my enemies do not wish to replace me with such a complicated system. However does one get anything done, if one has to please everyone in the land to remain in power?"

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"Elections are only called once every few years, or I think if the public declares no confidence, somehow – it's only a majority that they need to please."

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Marcella is clearly about to ask another question when her attention is diverted by the doors slamming open.

A tall, thin figure dressed in black stalks into the room, courtiers scattering from his path. Paying no attention to anyone but the Queen, he makes his way directly to the foot of the dais and drops to one knee before her.

A drop of dark liquid falls from one gloved hand to drip on the marble floor. 

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Dante looks over as this happens – instinctively – and then returns to looking at the Queen, trying not to focus on… that all. (In case it gets him beheaded for misbehaving. This place might have beheadings. He does not want to be beheaded. Why did he get here.)

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Both Marcella and the newcomer completely ignore Dante. 

"Is it done?" the Queen asks.

He looks up at her, revealing the face of a young man not much older than Dante himself, perhaps eighteen or nineteen. Beneath the black cloak and armour, a slender chain is barely visible around his neck. From it hangs a single red jewel, identical to the ones on Marcella's chest. 

"Yes, milady," he says, voice flat and emotionless.

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… Dante tries to catch a look at the dark liquid out the corner of his eye, but is not really willing to turn to look at it.

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It appears to be blood, although with such a brief glance he can't be certain.

"Very good, my Ace," Marcella says.

"You have my permission to retire for the evening."

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The Ace of Hearts rises and bows, seeming almost like an automaton in the precision of his movements. Not a single twitch is wasted. 

He turns on his heel and stalks from the room, still not sparing so much as a glance for Dante or anyone else.

The crowd parts before him again. 

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Oh good he can take this as an excuse to look back respectfully or something and – blood – he would like to confirm that please –?

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That does indeed appear to be blood. There's a trail of similar droplets marking the path he took; servants scurry to mop it up. 

"Now," says the queen, turning back to Dante.

"Where were we?"

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He turns back to her – "Uh, I think democracy?"

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"Democracy," she repeats, rolling the word around in her mouth as though she is tasting wine. 

"Rule by the people. It is a dangerous thing, to give too much power to those unfit to wield it." 

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He pauses, trying to ascertain if she's likely to kill him if he mentions that monarchs can be bad.

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She notices the pause. One does not successfully take control of a country and rule it for decades without in the process gaining at least some ability to read people. 

"Is there something you wish to say, Dante?" she asks. 

"You may speak freely; I do not punish my servants for telling me what I do not wish to hear, and it would be still less wise to punish a guest for the same."

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"I… agree, with you, that it's dangerous to give power to people who won't use it responsibly – but we had a few people in power, prior to the rebellion thing, who did not use it responsibly."

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She presses her lips together, and does not respond immediately. 

"It is true," she concedes after a moment, "that monarchs can not always be trusted with power. I myself was forced to take the reins from a king who had dreadfully mismanaged his people. But while there is a chance that a sole ruler may be either good or bad, there is no such variance in the tyranny of the majority.

"It is simply a fact of the world," the Queen concludes, "that most people are not born with the capacity to rule a country."

Permalink Mark Unread

… He nods.

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"Therefore," she continues, as though it is the only logical extension of her statement, "any democratic system seems doomed to be mediocre at best, and anarchic at worst. And the worst is that it would not be so easy to depose as a monarch, for who would be so foolish as to remove himself from power?" 

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"… I think the failure mode of a monarch can be worse, if everyone feels forced to obey them."

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"You may have a point," she says.

"But of course, you have an advantage in that your country has experienced both systems, whereas Wonderland has always been a monarchy." 

They've been talking for a while now, and Dante might be starting to get hungry. The Queen, of course, shows no signs of such frailties. 

Permalink Mark Unread

It was in fact just near the end of school when Dante found the rabbit, so he is indeed getting hungry by this point.

"I don't necessarily think all monarchies are bad?" he tries.

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"I should hope not," says the Queen, frowning just a little - not enough, of course, to cause wrinkles in her flawless skin. 

"And it seems plain to me, although perhaps the practice differs from the theory, that all democracies would be, if not actively malicious, then...poorly directed."

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A rather portly gentleman, who has been quietly observing their conversation for some time, now approaches the foot of the throne, bowing as low as his gut will allow. 

When given permission to speak, he reminds Marcella - amidst a hail of flattery - that perhaps it mightn't be time for dinner.

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"Of course, my dear Lord Grosvenor," she replies in a tone which suggests that she is indulging a child. 

"We cannot have you wasting away, after all."

Those nearby chuckle on cue.

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He tries for a smile. (He wonders what they eat here. It's fortunate he's not a super picky eater, he thinks.)

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Marcella claps her hands, summoning the Ace of Spades, a small dark-haired girl in an oversized tabard, and sends her to inform the kitchen staff.

Rising from her throne, the Queen extends a hand to Dante. 

"You may accompany me to dinner," she says, with the air of granting him a special favour.

Around the hall, the court are pairing up, gentlemen offering their arms to ladies. 

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He stands – trying not to look too flustered or clumsy doing so – and offers her his arm.

(– Fuck he just remembered.)

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

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She takes his arm and guides him to lead the court through into an equally impressive dining room, so smoothly that it appears to observers as though she is doing nothing of the sort. 

The Queen sits at the head of the long table, with Dante on her immediate left. The seat at the opposite end remains empty, as does the one on Marcella's right. Everyone else arranges themselves down either side of the table, not sitting until Marcella does. 

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… Dante tries to smile and look relaxed, but does not speak in case there is protocol about which he is not aware.

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Food is brought by dozens of efficient servants, and in a twinkling the table is laden with an impressive feast. 

Fortunately, rich people in Wonderland seem to eat much the same as rich people in Britain, and Dante can get by with no more than copying his neighbours' fork selections if he's never experienced a formal dinner before. 

"Tell me," the Queen asks between forkfuls of steak, "how does this compare to a meal you might see in your own country?" 

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"… It is far more lavish," he says. "Definitely not what common folk would expect."

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"We are indeed fortunate, to be fed so well," Lord Grosvenor comments. He has somehow managed to wrangle a seat two down from Dante, with his partner for the evening sitting between them. 

Under the cover of a chorus of agreement from those sitting close enough to hear his words, he leans back - disguised as a contented stretch - and taps Dante's hand, passing him a small slip of paper. 

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Dante's smile – him not having been smiling very much – does not falter at this, and he instead takes and pockets the note without much of a reaction.

"I admit to being curious about your… technology?"

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"Oh, I'm afraid that isn't my area of expertise," the Queen demurs. 

His various neighbours also disclaim any substantial knowledge of technology; they're courtiers, not businessmen or farmers. 

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Dante tries not to frown at this too obviously.

"Your landscape is… really something."

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"The gardens?" she guesses.

"Yes, they are quite something, aren't they. Or did you mean the maze?"

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"I – both, actually, but – more specifically, the pattern of the whole region."

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"Ah," she says, nodding.

"The squares. Wonderland's own unique expression of the patterns of the land. Unfortunately, I cannot take credit for their presence, only for the modifications which allowed me to build a palace here, in the centre." 

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"It looks like… the setup to a board game, one where I'm from."

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Now he has her full attention. Only at this point does it become obvious, in retrospect, that it was not so before. 

"I believe," the Queen says in a strange tone, each word precise and measured, "that I should like to discuss this further in private." 

Her voice returns to normal as she continues, "After dinner, of course. Is that agreeable?"

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"– Of course, Your Majesty."

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"Very good."

She returns to eating, a slight smile on her face. The conversation picks back up around them. 

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… Dante also gets back to eating, and does not bring up any other mentions of games where he's from.

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Dinner proceeds without incident through two more courses. 

After dessert, the Queen dismisses her court, and invites Dante to follow her into the smallest room he's seen in the palace so far. It's still at least three times the size of his living room at home, but appears to serve a somewhat similar function judging by the furniture. Marcella takes a seat in an armchair of red velvet, which bears a striking resemblance to her throne.

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Among the many differences between this sitting room and those Dante might be familiar with, perhaps the most unnerving - aside from the fact that he is in the presence of a queen - is the, presumably, bodyguard standing at attention against one wall. 

Now dressed in a white tabard with a single heart emblazoned on the chest, the Ace of Hearts stares blankly at Dante from across the room. 

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"Do sit down," the queen invites him. She gestures at a couch adjacent to her armchair, upholstered in white with square black cushions.  

With the other hand, she reaches for one of the gems hanging around her neck, picking out the second one from the left and tapping it. Static fills his ears for a second.

"There," she says. "Now we may speak without fear of eavesdroppers."

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… He shifts a bit uncomfortably in the chair. "May I ask what that was?"

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"Merely a spell to prevent us from being overheard." They seem to be in the centre of an invisible bubble: all sound from outside the room has been cut off. 

"As the spell is of limited duration, let us begin without further ado," she declares.

"You described Wonderland as resembling a game board; what do you know of its rules?"

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"– There are various kinds of pieces, um, I think the board is typically…" He pauses, counts in the air, "eight by eight? Two sides to the board, one set black and one white. There are I think six different pieces? Each side of the board gets the same pieces, including eight pawns, two knights, two rooks, two bishops, a king and a queen, and they can move in restricted ways and the aim is to lock the opposing king to be unable to move."

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She listens intently.

"Black and white? Not red and white?"

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"… It's sometimes more 'dark' and 'light' than black and white but – not red, no."

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"Interesting," she comments. 

"And if I were to tell you that, before my time, Wonderland was ruled by two opposing monarchs, the Red King and the White King?"

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"… Then I would wonder if there was also a Black King, because – there's the playing card reference, on your… guards?"

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"Do elaborate," she invites, leaning back in her chair. 

"Please assume for the purposes of your explanation that I know nothing of these games or their rules."

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He nods. "Playing cards. There are fifty-two in a pack, split into four suits – two red, diamonds and hearts, and two black, spades and clubs – and you have for each of these the ace card, numbers two through ten, and then King, Queen and Jack as well as I think some Jokers not included in the fifty-two figure. … There are lots of different games people play with them."

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"Which card has the highest value?" she asks.

"And the lowest? Is there a quantitative difference between the suits, or are, say, the Two of Hearts and the Two of Clubs equal?" 

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"I'm not actually sure between the suits – I think that might vary between games but I don't play many card games – and the values are usually in descending order King, Queen, Jack, ten through two, and then ace is either above King, between Jack and ten, or below two."

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"The Ace's rank is dependent on the game?" she checks.

"But the King is always above the Queen? How terribly backward."

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He nods with respect to the Ace, and then responds, "Primogeniture has only recently, I think, in my country, been made less sexist."

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"And previously," she guesses, "it was biased in favour of males? Inheritance by the eldest son, and not the eldest child or eldest daughter?" 

Marcella looks intrigued, rather than offended. "It is fascinating to hear what ridiculous methods your world has invented for governance." 

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"It's that way among the monarchs, yes – or was, yes, male-orientated and then it goes through the girls. … Maybe the male cousins first."

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"Really," she says in an unreadable tone.

"But we have strayed from the topic; my privacy spell will only last so long. I believe you were telling me about...playing cards."

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He nods. "The shapes on the clothing of your guards seem to correspond to some of the cards – at first I wasn't sure, but they were clubs on the ones who brought me in."

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"I believe I understand the structure of the suits," Marcella says, "and I agree with you that it seems to be relevant, despite the minor differences."

She thinks for a moment, then runs her fingers along the string of gems around her neck, selecting a particular one. It glows, and a similarly glowing pack of cards appears in her free hand. 

Even after the glow fades, the edges of each card still shimmer slightly red. She holds them out to Dante.

"Might you teach me one of the games that are played with these? I believe I have conjured the correct number." 

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"– Of course, Your Majesty," he responds. "… I'm not sure which might be most strategically – pertinent – but I could demonstrate blackjack?"

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"Any game to which you know the rules will suffice," she assures him, and hands the cards over to be dealt.

They feel mostly like normal cards, except that they're sort of staticky, especially around the edges. There are the right number of each type, with the pips arranged correctly on all the numbered cards, and the Jack, Queen and King of each suit have little portraits. The Queen of Hearts, naturally, is Marcella herself. 

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Naturally.

He explains the rules to the game and deals both Marcella and himself two cards.

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And they proceed to play a game. 

Marcella picks it up quite quickly, and turns out to be excellent at both bluffing about her own hand and figuring out Dante's. 

"Would this perhaps be a more interesting game with three players?" she muses.

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"It's usually got more," he agrees. "The dealer plays against the other players, and it's a bit in the dealer's favour."

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"In that case, I believe I shall invite my Ace to join us."

She beckons, and he finally moves from his statue-like vigil to join them around the little table. 

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Then they can start a new game that's more directed to be dealer-versus-others!

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The Ace of Hearts plays the way he seems to do everything, with perfect seriousness and intense focus. 

He's not as good as Marcella, who might just have been born with a poker face, but it won't take him long to get good enough that between them they can reliably beat Dante. 

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Dante keeps at it! … He has a face where it might be hard to tell precisely what he's thinking, but they can probably guess the broad strokes, so beating him isn't super hard.

"I'm not the best at this," he apologises, after a bit.

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"Oh, there's no need to apologise, dear," the Queen assures him.

"You are skilled enough for our purposes. The point, after all, was that I might gain some familiarity with the concepts behind card games, and this we have achieved." 

She frowns down at the cards in her hand. "If you feel you are reaching the limits of your ability, perhaps it would be best to move on?"  

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"– Is now the time to demonstrate chess, or…?"

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"That would be my next request, yes," Marcella admits.

"Unless you would prefer a respite from such mentally demanding activities?"

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"It's not that bad," he says. "Chess is I think more demanding than blackjack."

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"It should not prove too taxing, I think, to list the materials required for a game of chess," the Queen suggests.

She gestures absently to the Ace; he gets up and returns to his guard position against the wall. 

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He reminds her of the pieces and the rules. "It's only a two-player game."

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"How convenient, then, that there are two of us." 

And here's a black-and-white chess board with red and white pieces. They all have the same glowing red outlines as the cards. 

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How… weird.

"Usually you get to pick which colour you want to play – white moves first."

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"I shall play red, I think." 

With a sweeping, elegant motion, she spins the board so that the white pieces are on the side nearest Dante. 

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Dante tries not to look too – flapped, or whatever the verb unflappable relates to, flap sounds wrong – but he's meant to be playing chess so that's not useful to dwell on.

He moves his left-most pawn forward two spaces.

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She considers, perhaps trying to recall how pawns move and capture, before mirroring him.

They proceed to play a fairly slow game of chess, with Marcella occasionally needing to refresh her memory of the rules, but mostly managing to move her pieces correctly if not optimally. She loses, but does not seem too displeased by this. 

"I believe I have enough understanding of the gameplay to attempt a little strategy," she says, waving a hand over the board to reset the pieces. "Shall we?"

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"– I'd be happy to," he says, "but might be a bit tired after this."

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"Of course," the Queen says.

"It grows late. I shall have a room made ready for you." 

She waves a hand and the Ace leaves the room, without a word passing between them. 

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She has such control over her subjects aaaaaah.

But chess. Another match.

He offers her the choice of colour again.

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"White, I think, this time."

She duplicates his opening move from the previous match. 

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… Hm.

He doesn't duplicate her previous moves, but he does seem to try to employ some strategy.

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Each individual move goes faster, this time, but the game is a little more drawn out.

Marcella wins, but it's close. The board is almost empty of pieces by the time she manages to trap Dante's king. 

Partway through the game, a servant - the Seven of Spades - appears at the door and, when prompted by his queen, informs them that a room has been prepared for her guest. 

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Dante does, in fact, look quite tired by this point.

He does however ask what to do about clothing. Since he's going to be staying here for an unspecified period of time.

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"I will arrange for clothing to be procured by the time you wake," the Queen assures him. "Do not worry. My staff are very efficient."

She shepherds him gracefully into the custody of the waiting servant, so subtly he might not even notice it wasn't his own idea. "Sleep well," she says warmly. 

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"Thank you, Your Majesty," he says, and then he turns around to follow the servant.

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Dante is led up a long flight of stairs to a sumptuous bedroom.

It has a four-poster bed, an attached water closet, a window looking out onto a long drop, and a guard discreetly posted at the door. 

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How wonderful.

He looks for some sort of supplies with which to brush his teeth et cetera et cetera.

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A washcloth has been provided, along with a selection of other items he doesn't recognise. 

There's a nightshirt on the bed, which looks like it'll be clownishly baggy on him but at least that means it's fairly long as well.

...something taps at the window.

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Dante looks up from his perusal of the items and in the direction of the window.

… He goes over to it and peers out.

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A large black bird is perched on the sill, tapping at the window with its beak. 

It looks right at Dante.

"Well? Are you going to let me in?" it croaks, in a surprisingly feminine voice. 

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Um. "What're you."

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Sigh.

"A messenger from - an interested party. And, yes, a talking raven." 

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He pauses.

"Well. Uh." He goes to open the window. "Okay."

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"Thank you."

She flies in and perches on the back of a chair.

"I predict you have questions about Wonderland. Would you prefer to ask those, or for me to talk more generally about the things you need to know?"

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"… Please don't tell me it's in grave danger and needs an innocent mortal to save it." Pause. "Or something."

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She laughs, but it's not a cheerful sound. 

"Innocence is not among the required criteria, although mortality might be. Wonderland is in danger - and so are you," she says seriously.

"We were concerned when you failed to meet with our contact in the court, and he sent me to talk to you instead."

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"– The note?" he guesses. "I was – uh – busy."

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She nods. 

"It would have told you to meet with Lord Grosvenor so that he could explain the situation to you. As I can more easily move about without drawing attention, I was sent on his behalf." 

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"I apologize for… missing the meeting," he tries.

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"You are almost certainly not to blame," the raven reassures him.

"From Lord Grosvenor's account of events, it seems that you simply did not have an opportunity to read the note unobserved, a known flaw in this method of communication. However, since we have now made contact, I can explain to you the parts of the situation about which you have been left uninformed.

"To begin with," she says, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, "Marcella is not the rightful ruler of Wonderland."

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Uh-huh.

He opts to say: "… No?"

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"No. She came to power through the use of magic, which she used to overthrow the previous king and eliminate his heirs," she explains.

"I represent a group of people who believe that this state of affairs should not be allowed to continue, and would like to request that you do not give Marcella any information which she could leverage to strengthen her position further, even if you have no desire to work with us directly." 

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Pause. "I'm not sure what information she'd find most useful – or what information I could pass off as being interesting that isn't. And she did try getting quite a lot out of me earlier."