Once upon a time there was a noble Lord.

Actually, he was a mafia boss. So while he was noble by blood, he was not in action. Ironically enough, this man's name was Blood. Blood Dupre.

He lived in a world where time was irrevelent, because he never grew old, and neither did the other people in this land. As long as you lived there, you would never age.

It was a twisted Neverland.

He was brilliant, but moody and vain, and incredibly self-centered. Perhaps he would have changed for the better if the outsider had stayed.

The outsider was a young lady named Alice, and she was brought to this sick world, where people shoot guns as easily as breathe and never worry because there is always a replacement when one dies, by a person named Peter White.

Perhaps person was the wrong word. Peter was-is- a rabbit. But he took the form of a man with rabbit ears, and he brought Alice here because he loved her deeply and wanted only for her to be happy.

But Alice did not love him. She developed an affinity for the Mafioso, most likely because he looked exactly like her lover from before, who had left her so he could pursue (unsuccessfully) Alice's older sister.

And as cold and heartless as Blood Dupre was (is), he loved her too.

But as I said before, he was moody, vain, and self-centered. This turned into a monster of black jealousy that reared its ugly head if Alice so much as looked at another man.

Eventually, he confronted her, consumed by rage and sure that she was cheating on him with half the country. This ended with her at gunpoint, Blood swearing that if she ever did such a thing again, he would destroy her. If he could not have her, all of her, he would make it so no one could.

Terrified and heartbroken, Alice fled him and his world, retreating to the Earth where hearts are not clocks and magic of any kind does not exist.

The Queen of Hearts, who loved Alice like a sister, ceased speaking to her brother-in-law and formed a habit of having those who annoyed her beheaded.

Peter began shooting the faceless soldiers –the ones whose lives Alice had defended so fiercely- every day and in great numbers.

The Queen's Knight turned dark as night, slaying the faceless townspeople in great quantities and dumping their bloody clocks on the undertaker's desk.

The undertaker buried himself in his work ,fixing clocks and creating new lives, refusing to go near coffee in the fear that he might find something that tasted better than the cups Alice had brought him as he worked late into the night.

The amusement park owner ghosted about as if in a dream, wishing Alice would come, if only to complain about his horrible violin playing.

The Cheshire Cat ceased his teasing and torment of others, spending his days curled up in the dark, eyes closed to the world.

The Lord of Nightmares delved deeper and deeper into men's subconscious, the dreams he created becoming steadily darker and more terrifying as time went on.

The children who guarded the gates to the mafia's territory killed anyone who tried to get in, refusing to let a single guest live until their big sister came to play.

The Mafioso's right hand man himself destroyed the fragile snowglobes he had spent years collecting, the ones that Alice had so admired. As the thousand shards glinted in the darkness, he admitted that maybe, just maybe, he really was a rabbit.

Blood, cold as he was, grew colder.

And Wonderland mourned.