Disclaimer: I do not own Alice in Wonderland. I do not own these characters. I own only the idea behind this story.
She had been so young when she had met him. Only a child.
You are nothing but a child, still… A child in the body of a woman.
She silenced the voice at the back of her mind, always there, always waiting to speak. It had no right. No right to speak. No right to ruin her house of cards.
You had no right to come here. No right to stay.
She had fallen into this world, not knowing what was around the next bend, and now… Now she was this. She had never expected this to happen. Never in all her wildest imaginings, the stories she had told to her friends…
They miss you…
"I don't care!" she cried, pulling herself to her feet. "There's no going back! It's too late for that!" She ran, fighting back her tears, out the back passage, out into her manicured mazes, into her garden, her secret place, just her and a hundred others.
And him.
She didn't love him. She didn't know what 'love' was. Not the way that most thought. Not as such. She loved him like a young girl loved her brother. Like a child.
He was there, sitting on a bench, painting the roses. When he saw her, he put his brush down, and his pallet, and stood, his arms open for an embrace. "My Queen," he said, as she pressed her face into his shoulder. "What is the matter?"
"Please, don't call me that," she whispered, her tears coming quickly, now that she was here, with him, safe. "You know I don't like it when you call me that."
"Alright," he said, setting her down on the bench he had just occupied, and pulling a handkerchief from his sleeve. "I won't call you that. Now tell me, what's the matter?" He dabbed tears off of her cheek, a worried frown knotting his brow.
She bit her lip, smoothing out her skirt. Her troubles seemed inconsequential now. Now that she was here, with his arms around her, safe, warm, held in…
In a cage.
"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, looking up at him through her renewed tears. "Why did you bring me here?"
"I didn't, my Queen. You brought yourself here." His embrace tightened, in what she knew he thought was reassurance, but that she just felt to be restrictive.
"I told you not to call me that!" she cried, trying to pull away from him, and failing. "I don't want to be called that! Everyone calls me that! Even the King calls me that! I don't… I don't…" she was back in his arms, sobbing, smearing the heavy makeup she was wrestled into every morning all over his shabby coat.
"I know, little one," he said, one hand going up her neck to pull off the heavy wig and crown, revealing her own pale hair, cropped close. "I know.
"I was just a little girl!" she wailed, her tears coming faster. "I was… I'm just a little girl!"
"I know. I know. I am sorry. I was wrong." He stroked her hair, looking off into the distance, his own eyes brimming with tears. He knew, truly, what he had to do. "I can let you go. I can send you back there. I will, if you ask it…"
Her answer came slowly. It took less than a minute, but to him, it was as though an age of the world had passed. "Please."
He closed his eyes, for a moment, then looked down at the lovely girl under his hand. She was so young, just, as she said, a little girl. She hadn't been meant to stay here. He had been wrong. And there was only one way for him to put right his mistake.
The pallet knife was sharp. He had kept it that way. It would serve his purpose.
His had trembled as he reached for it, and trembled even more as he grasped it. "Close your eyes, Alice…"
