Author's Note: At various points throughout the writing, editing, and re-writing of Books Three and Four, I had planned for Jack to die various ways – in battle, by accident, by Regina's hand, by Dafydd's hand, among others. Before I developed the idea of Jack opening the door to Darkness, I had originally planned a subplot that involved the sentient Trees of the Tulgey Wood – where part of the Ruler's job was to shepherd the forest, and Jack failed to keep up his end of the bargain, angering the Trees and causing them to retaliate a la the Last March of the Ents. I had written his demise via Tree, but never got around to developing the subplot. Hence this AU.
The conceit here is that everything in the plot of Books Three and Four still happens – Jack still drugs Regina to Madness, he still steals Crims out from beneath her, Dafydd is still exiled, and Regina and Dafydd still have to fight their way back into power. This happens in the midst of all that.
Warning: Warning for threats of violence which are later carried out onscreen. Nothing is graphic, but Jack's fate is pretty specifically spelled out, and I find it kind of horrifying, so. Please beware any triggers or squick.
Regina shrieked in glee as her white Panther Sora leapt over a fallen tree with a triumphant snarl. She couldn't thank Dafydd enough for suggesting that they ride instead of taking a carriage. She was still often melancholy after her misadventures in the Outlands, but it was hard to be depressed on such a glorious summer day.
Dafydd smiled to himself in satisfaction as he leaned over his Stallion's neck, urging Arturias on. He'd been against this excursion; Regina'd had nightmares last night, and they'd been up the rest of the night, drinking dandelion wine and telling outlandish fairy tales. He would rather she spent a lazy day in her garden, but Leferidae strode up and commandeered Regina for an excursion to the Tulgey Wood in the south of Crims. She had given in to her duty, of course. But at least Dafydd could give her this small amount of enjoyment.
The products of the tumtum tree were some of Crims' main exports. In the year or so since Regina's return to Underland and Crims' acceptance of her as Queen, the Trees had experienced as much rejuvenation as the rest of the country. While it would always be a dark and gloomy kind of place, the coronation of a true and proper Queen had chased out the unhealthy shadows that had overridden the depths of the forest. The Wood was safe again – as safe as it could ever be.
The Trees watched, leaves fluttering in approval as they watched the Guardian of the Red Lands give a tour to the new Queen. A sprightly, delicate sapling she was, too; young and green as the tenderest shoot, she seemed too fragile to stand up to even the gentlest breeze, let alone the gales that were sure to come her way.
Although, the Trees considered as they watched the Queen twine her arm through that of her Champion and lean into his strength, perhaps she would be alright. She was not an isolated, solitary organism, after all. The Queen and her Champion leaned and tangled into each other like a pair of lovers' trees, becoming less two separate beings than one hybrid system.
The Trees whispered to each other, coming to an agreement. For being brought back to life by her magic, the Trees owed the Queen a debt. If this entanglement with her oak-strong Champion was what she wanted, the Trees would shield and protect them from the storms so that they could grow strong.
The Trees whispered to each other, branches swaying in confusion as the royal carriage rumbled closer. This was their Queen; the Trees swayed toward her magic like sunflowers toward the sun. But who was this with her? It was not her oak-strong one; this sprout was diseased and rotten within, like…
The wind blew sharply through the treetop canopy in alarm. The Trees remembered this rot. This was the sickness of the Mad Queen; a root rot the Trees had thought themselves free of forever.
And salt the soil, but the weed's insidious disease had been planted in their lovely sprout! She was a healthy, vigorous sapling, fed by the magic of her home soil and bolstered by her oak-strong lover. But even the healthiest tree could fall ill if its roots were attacked; even the strongest tree could be felled.
They would need to keep an eye on this upstart weed. And if it began choking out their sapling's roots, the Trees would see the weed ripped out of the garden with extreme prejudice.
Ever had it been true that the life and health of the land and its sovereign were entwined; one and the same. The land's health sustained the Queen; the Queen's prolonged illness caused the land to likewise sicken.
The Trees did try to remain well. They had made a promise to protect their sapling and their oak-strong; they must do everything in their power to keep up their end of the bargain. But the ground was hard and cold, the air unhealthy, the water poisoned, and against such calamities the Trees could not help but sicken, and feed into their Queen's illness.
Before long, the Trees lacked even the strength to keep out intruders. They stood, silent and helpless to prevent the rape and pillage of their numbers by the weed's seeds. Was the weed brutalizing their sapling as horribly as this? What a terrible invasive plant this weed was; and who was left to protect the garden?
There was a presence in the wood.
After an endless, deathly winter and an ever-worsening sickness, this new presence was utterly alien; frightening, almost, like a shell-shocked plant suddenly receiving sweet water.
And yet… The Trees had known this one once, hadn't they? Rich soil and sweet water, strong and steady as the eldest tree… Their oak-strong king, finally returned. Even he had not escaped the weed unscathed; he had suffered sickness, and a hatchet at his roots. And yet he stood; not as strong anymore, perhaps, but as steady and determined as ever.
Our King, our oak-strong, the Trees sighed in relief, waving their branches in welcome.
The Champion smiled grimly, laying a hand against the smooth bark of the nearest Tree.
"The Queen needs your help," he said, his eyes gone dark with anger. "The King's imprisoned her in the Tower and driven her Mad."
Our sapling's root rot has spread to us all, the Trees whispered. Root, rock and leaf wither and die with her.
The oak-strong paled, swallowing hard. "Is there nothing you can do?"
We require a gardener to clear the weeds from about our roots, the Trees replied. In clear soil we may grow strong, and feed our strength to our sapling.
One corner of the Champion's mouth rose in dark, vengeful glee. "I think my boys and I can handle a few weeds."
The Trees waved their branches with tired but genuine joy. With a forest guardian, as of old, the forest would soon grow strong again, and then coax their sapling back to health.
If forced, Jack could admit that there was a cruel symmetry in the fact that he was now a prisoner of the same tower where he had imprisoned his wretched, treacherous wife.
Unlike his treasonous, adulterous bride, however, Jack had a plan to regain his freedom.
After breakfast, Jack crossed to the window, flinging open the shutters, withdrawing a heel of bread and crushing it to crumbs which he scattered on his sill.
He didn't have long to wait. Within a short time, a scarlet blur streaked through the blue skies, and with an earsplitting shriek the Jubjub bird landed heavily on his windowsill.
Really, Jack had no idea why everyone in Underland was so terrified of his mother's emblematic bird. He had always found them quite docile, and very clever.
Case in point, the vial of pishalver the Jubjub dropped into his palm.
"Oh, you are a good girl," he murmured, stroking her neck as she preened. "Give me a minute."
Jack glanced around his cell before shaking his head. There was nothing in here that would aid his escape, and nothing he couldn't replace once he was free. The important thing was getting free.
The plan was simple. Get out of this godforsaken tower. Summon his Cards to his side. March on Isla Affalin, and reclaim his birthright. Run the Outlandish bastard through, preferably in front of Regina. Then strangle his lovely, impossible wife until the light left her eyes.
He couldn't wait.
Eagerly, he downed the pishalver, shrinking down to about three feet tall. The Jubjub hopped into the room and landed on the floor. Jack clambered onto her back and held on tight as she shot through the window and took off for the skies.
But there was one thing Jack had not counted on.
Jubjub birds too were creatures of Crims, and Jack's many betrayals had brought harm to them, along with the rest of the country. And Jubjubs, when betrayed, were swift and cunning in taking revenge.
The she-bird veered south, working her wings hard as she traversed the countryside. She let out a triumphant shrill caw as she flew over the Tulgey Wood, flipping in a sudden barrel roll that dislodged the Usurper from her back.
Jack's screams cut off as the topmost branches of the Trees wrapped around him, ripping and rending until nothing of the weed remained.