Chapter One: Down the Rabbit Hole
Recently, I made some minor edits to Asylum and updated all the chapters to reflect that. It's nothing huge, mainly typos and small continuity errors, but if you see something that looks a little unfamiliar, that's why. That's also why all the author's comments have disappeared, so I'll make all my relevant notes here.
First of all, Asylum is a complete story; however, there are some loose ends in the last chapter. I had originally planned to write a sequel, entitled Of Ravens and Writing Desks, but it never happened and at this point never will. I'm sorry. I'm leaving this story up because I know how much it sucks to see that an author has taken down something you loved, but this chapter of my life is long done.
That said, I do hope you enjoy the story. Asylum was a great labour of love in years past, and I hope it brings you as much happiness as it brought me. Thank you to everyone for supporting it, adding it to your favourites, and leaving reviews. You guys are great, and I love every single one of you.
Warning: This story contains sexual content (fully consensual) between the two main characters, and a scene involving sexual assault and nonconsensual drugging perpetrated by an antagonist. Proceed accordingly.
I'm sure that all of you have heard of Alice. Her adventures in Wonderland are quite famous by now. Everyone knows how she fell into a fantastical world, met many strange and wondrous beings, and ultimately awoke to discover that the whole thing was a dream—a product of her own imagination.
At least, that's the way she tells the story.
She's a very self-centred girl, to think that she created Wonderland—that no one else had ever seen it and no one else ever would again. The fact of the matter is, Wonderland exists in the same way that an idea exists. It has always been around, regardless of who first put it into articulation; it cannot be destroyed, no matter what you do to it; it is not the property of a single person; and, perhaps most importantly, the way it is portrayed all depends on the perspective of the person portraying it.
Alice, you see, was an innocent child. She had no concept of the peril an unfamiliar world like Wonderland could present. She certainly had no understanding of the hedonistic potential of a world without rules. To her, Wonderland was a fairyland; a pleasant dream to while away the hours, perhaps to ponder later, but ultimately a childish fantasy, to grow out of and in the end discard. Our games reflected her perception of our world; when others visited, we altered ourselves to suit their fantasies. We have always been seen through the minds of those who pay us visit.
But what of Wonderland when there is no outsider to shape us? Whose mind are we seen through then?
Ah, now there's the question.
The Cheshire Cat was the first to become aware of the change in the atmosphere.
Waking from a pleasant doze on the branch of a tree, he sat up, extending his arms above his head in a luxurious stretch. Cocking his head very slightly to the side, large cat ears flicking back and forth under his pink and purple striped hair, he focused on the air around him, eyes half-closed in concentration. It didn't take him long to identify the source of the stirring wind; within moments, a wide grin had broken out over his face.
"There's someone new in Wonderland," he murmured.
A second later, the landscape blurred around him, then came sharply into focus again. The scene around him had changed; he was no longer in the wood, but standing in a hall full of doors, at the bottom of an earth hole ascending up into darkness. His face cracked into a grin once again, so wide that the silver stud piercing through his tongue was clearly visible when he next spoke.
"She's fallen into the rabbit hole," he chuckled, smirking. "She must have followed the Rabbit. My, my... I wonder how he's dealing with it."
The Cheshire Cat had never had much cause before to speak with the White Rabbit; still, he knew who he was. The Cat knew everyone, and, truth be told, everyone knew the Rabbit. He was famous throughout Wonderland for his nervous, timid temperament; no matter what the rest of the realm had shaped itself to look like, he always seemed to retain a certain naive innocence. For that reason the Cat had never really held much interest in him, but if he was to be at the centre of Wonderland's latest adventure, it might be worth it to follow along, if only to watch him come more and more unravelled as it progressed.
Letting out one brief, wicked chuckle, the Cat once again faded into thin air, heading off to find a good vantage point to watch the games unfold.
Today was not going to be the White Rabbit's day.
First, he had taken a wrong turn in the Tulgey Wood, resulting in his anticipated shortcut turning into an unexpected detour into the outside world; next, he had inadvertently stumbled into a dreaming outsider while attempting to return home, accidentally drawing her back into Wonderland with him; then, he had suddenly found his hands turning into paws and his body shrinking as her mind took hold of Wonderland, changing him from his usual semi-human form to that of a large, upright rabbit and causing him such surprise that he tripped on his way into the rabbit hole; finally, he found, much to his dismay, that his reduced size was greatly cutting down his speed—and he had places to be. Frantically pulling his pocket watch out of his waistcoat pocket, he let out a little groan of distress.
"Oh, gracious, I'm very, very late!"
"I suggest you take the garden door," said a calm voice from above him.
Startled, the Rabbit jerked his gaze from his watch to the ceiling of the Hall of Doors, desperately seeking the speaker. It took him a moment to find him, and then a moment more before recognition dawned on his face. There was only one creature in Wonderland with an accent like that.
"I know you. You're the Cheshire Cat."
The Cat lazily flicked his tail, stretching out in a relaxed manner on one of the rafters, and winked at him with one bright purple eye.
"But, but—aren't you usually... bigger?" continued the Rabbit nervously, hoping his question wouldn't offend him, one of Wonderland's more powerful denizens.
But the Cat, it seemed, didn't care. "Generally," he replied, his tone objective as he examined one of his own paws. "It would seem that our current visitor has a very literal perspective of animals. No people with cat ears for her—or young men who look like rabbits," he added, lifting his gaze to the trembling White Rabbit. Somehow, the Cat's grin was even more terrifying on this new, non-human face.
The Rabbit gulped. "W-what was it you said—about a door?" he stammered.
"Oh, that?" the Cat asked, nonchalant. "I said, 'I suggest you take the garden door,'" he repeated, gesturing with one paw at a little door, half-concealed behind a curtain at the end of the Hall. "She won't be able to fit through it, and you can always lock it behind you if you're worried about being followed."
"Oh, ah—thank you," the Rabbit said with a sudden rush of gratitude, giving him a quick, awkward bow. The Cat only smiled wider. Uneasy, the Rabbit scurried down the Hall, opened the door, and vanished through it with a sigh of relief.
Behind him, the Cheshire Cat faded into nothing as a young girl in blue and white came tumbling out of the rabbit hole.
The Cheshire Cat had begun to grow bored with the game. For a while, things had been quite entertaining. The little blonde outsider had had quite a bit of bother with the garden door, got herself into great deal of trouble with changing her own size, and scared away a whole host of creatures with talk of her pet cat. He had watched from a distance as the White Rabbit, flustered and still convinced he was going to be late for whatever it was he was going to, had mistaken her for his servant girl and sent her off to find his gloves—only to have her grow to an enormous size in his own house, causing no end of panic—and a great deal of gleeful laughter for the Cat. Somehow shrinking to a minuscule size, she had nevertheless sent off the assembled crowd with little trouble, and, after a thoroughly long-winded and slow-moving conversation with the Caterpillar—unusually docile under her influence—had even managed to figure out how to control her own height. But now, things had slowed down a great deal—to the point where the Cat was even considering getting involved himself.
Quickly deciding that the best way to get the game moving again was to send her off in a new, more interesting direction, the Cat positioned himself accordingly. First, he popped into the Duchess's house—where the girl was, at that point, arguing with the woman in question—only to vanish a moment later as soon as she looked the other way. Rearranging himself comfortably on a tree branch just outside the house, he watched the door, knowing she'd make her escape soon, and counting on what he had observed of her curiosity to send her towards him at the next opportunity. Sure enough, she soon appeared, carrying a pig—he wasn't going to ask—which she quickly let go into the forest, whereupon she spotted him without delay.
Approaching cautiously in the face of his grin, she looked up, speaking with a timidity that reminded him strongly of the White Rabbit.
"Cheshire Puss," she began, hesitating, as though unsure of his reaction.
He only grinned, imagining the equally nervous Rabbit addressing him thus. Replying with a tentative smile and seeming to take courage from his positive reaction, she squared her shoulders and went on.
"Cheshire Puss, would you tell me, please, which way I ought to walk from here?"
The White Rabbit watched this exchange with a growing sense of indignation. The conversation had started badly, with the Cheshire Cat offhandedly informing her that everyone in Wonderland was mad—an accusation, he fumed, which was certainly most untrue—and had only grown worse, with the Cat first offering her an unauthorized invitation to play croquet with the Queen of Hearts, and then adding that she would see him, another uninvited guest, when she arrived at the Palace. As soon as she was happily on her way to the Mad Tea Party, the White Rabbit stepped out of the underbrush, hands—well, paws, if we were being honest—on his hips and his gaze fixed on the branch where he had last seen the Cat appear.
"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed, hoping and praying that he wasn't just talking to an empty forest.
Luckily for him, the Cat was evidently still around, because first his grin, then the rest of him, faded back into being on the branch in question.
"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, his voice holding a very obvious note of false innocence.
"You know exactly what I mean!" the White Rabbit cried, growing frantic. "You can't invite her to the Queen's—you're uninvited yourself! Besides, you should really know better—you of all people should know how dangerous the Queen can be."
"Nonsense," said the Cat with a patronizing smile. "Look around you," he continued, gesturing at the peaceful wood, normally so dark and frightening, and the clear, pleasant blue of the sky. "Nothing in Wonderland has been dangerous since she showed up. She even spent a good fifteen minutes conversing with the Caterpillar and he didn't so much as twitch." He paused. "Though he may have been inhaling fumes of a relaxing nature, now that I think of it. It can be hard to tell with him." He shrugged, his shoulders poking up sharply under his pink and purple striped fur. "Either way, there's nothing dangerous around while she's here."
Then his smile turned sly; his muscles bunched as he jumped from the branch, landing on the ground in front of the Rabbit with a predatory smirk. "Of course," he purred, "I could always change that."
"N-no, no," the White Rabbit stammered hastily, backing away, paws raised placatingly in front of him. "Y-you're right, of course—the Queen w-won't hurt her—of c-course she can come to the croquet game. I'll—I'll look after her myself!"
The Cat smiled, sitting back on his haunches in that self-satisfied way that only a cat can. "Good," he said, his voice still a purr. "I suppose I'll see you there, too."
"B-but—you can't—"
But the Cat was already gone.
By the time the Cheshire Cat finally made his appearance at the Palace, the croquet game was already well underway—if you could call it that. The game was the most disorganized exercise in mass chaos he had ever seen—and so, after a brief conversation with the young outsider, during which he ascertained that she was, in fact, perfectly safe, he settled back out of the way to watch. He was unconcerned with the fact that his head was visible despite his invisible body; it was a state of being that made him remarkably hard to behead, always a positive when one was around the Queen of Hearts—although it was, ultimately, the King who first suggested they try the procedure on him. He listened, unconcerned, and, truth be told, with a great deal of amusement, as they discussed whether a beheading would be possible to perform on a creature with no body, and then, with a smile and a wink in the direction of the White Rabbit, faded out as soon as they looked the other way.
He watched the game progress in absurdity until the Queen had sent everyone off to be beheaded, but for herself, her husband, and the girl. The White Rabbit was still hovering around the edge of the field. Leaving off watching the girl for a moment—she was being taken out anyway to listen to a story—the Cat made his invisible way over to him, reappearing silently behind him.
"So, how are you making out?" he asked casually. The Rabbit's reaction was astonishing. He shrieked and jumped two feet in the air—an impressive feat when one is only a foot and a half high oneself—and whirled around, wide-eyed and gasping for breath.
"Don't do that to me!" he exclaimed, adjusting his glasses, when he had calmed himself enough to speak. "You almost scared me right out of my skin."
"Now that would have been a sight," the Cat observed, grinning, rather amused by the way the White Rabbit shrank under his gaze.
"It most certainly would not have been," the Rabbit protested. "I should not have liked it at all."
The Cheshire Cat only smiled. "You're a strange little creature, for a Wonderland denizen," he observed. "I can't quite put my paw on it, but you're most unusual."
The Rabbit gaped at him. "I am no such thing!" he sputtered, "If anyone here is unusual, it is most definitely you!"
"No, no," the Cat said. "In case you haven't noticed, my oddities fit in perfectly here. You're the one trying to maintain your normalcy—which makes you the unusual one in this equation."
The expression that crossed the Rabbit's face next was one the Cheshire Cat would never forget. It was an absolutely precious mix of indignation, denial, shock, a dawning realization, and complete dread. The appearance of the expression was followed by a great deal of confused stuttering that sounded something like, "Well, I never—but you—I can't—I'm just—no, but—"
"I don't know how I never noticed this before," the Cat interrupted in an observational tone. "You're adorable. What's your name?"
That brought the Rabbit up short. "N-name?"
"Yes, your name," the Cat said patiently. "A designation, given at birth, generally used to address the bearer. You hardly strike me as the type to lack one."
"Well, yes, but I—I mean," the Rabbit said, clearly in a state of high confusion. "I-I-I—m-my name is—is... Theodore," he said finally. "Theodore Darwin."
"Theodore," the Cat murmured, testing it out. The Rabbit felt a shiver travel down his spine; with the Cat's unusual accent, his name almost seemed to roll right off his tongue.
"Y-yes," he said hesitantly. "What—what's yours?"
"I don't have one," the Cat replied cheerfully. "You can call me Chesh."
"Um," Theodore said. "All right... Ch-Chesh..."
The Cat smiled. Just then, a trumpet sounded, and they heard a voice calling, "The trial is about to begin!" The Rabbit jumped, instantly in a state of frenzied energy once again.
"Oh dear, I'm going to be late—"
"Relax," interrupted the Cat in a tone that brooked no argument. "You have plenty of time. You're just going to make yourself panic if you keep worrying about being late."
"But—but—" Theodore protested, clutching frantically at his pocket watch.
"You have plenty of time," the Cat repeated. "I'll see you inside—Theo."
That was enough to startle the Rabbit out of his state for a moment. "Theo?" he sputtered. "My name is Theodore!"
But once again, the Cat had vanished.
How Theodore got through the trial that followed, he could never remember. His mind was jumping between his usual cautiousness, worry about the trial, the edginess the Cat always inspired him with, and that strange moment of warmth he had felt when Chesh had said his name. Still, he managed fine, somehow—up until the outsider decided to take matters into her own hands. Within moments, the entire court had erupted into chaos.
Cards—solders, courtiers, gardeners, King, Queen—were suddenly flying everywhere; the jurors were in panic; the witnesses were running all over the place. The White Rabbit leapt to his feet, crying, pleading for calm, but he couldn't be heard over the uproar—and at the middle of it all, the girl, knocking over furniture in her suddenly gigantic size, scattering the crowds, batting the cards out of her way with a sharp scream—and then without warning she vanished. Theodore felt a momentary rush of relief—and then suddenly everything was much, much worse.
With the girl gone and her mind no longer holding sway over Wonderland, it instantly reverted to its true, twisted self. Cards and animals returned to their human shapes; suddenly, they had blood to spill. In a moment, weapons went from decorative to deadly. The Queen of Hearts, unstable even under the girl's influence, was let free of her restraints; with a hysterical laugh, she picked up a nearby axe, and soon her beautiful, terrifying face was dripping with her own subjects' blood as she sent their heads flying. And in the middle of the battlefield, which had only a moment ago been a comical pileup, was Theodore, sobbing with terror as he tried desperately to avoid the soldiers' swords.
Then out of nowhere he felt a strong arm around his waist, yanking him out of the path of a descending blade. "Hold on," said an urgent voice in his ear, and he clung desperately. In a second, the world blurred and melted, the sound faded—he couldn't feel anything—except the warmth of the body pressed against his—
Then reality slammed sharply back in and he found himself staring at his own ivy covered brick house, with the quiet sounds of a Wonderland afternoon fluttering against his ears.
The grip on his waist relaxed and he heard his rescuer give a relieved sigh. "That was close. I almost didn't get to you in time."
Theodore froze. Only one person in Wonderland spoke with that accent...
"Chesh," he whispered, turning around and looking up into the eyes of the Cheshire Cat.
The man standing in front of him was a great deal more impressive than the colourful striped cat he had seen less than an hour before. Tall and broad-shouldered, with the warm tanned skin of someone who spent most of his time outdoors, he was strong and well built, standing with the lazy grace of one who had never had to work for it. The muscular definition of his torso was further emphasized by the striped net top he wore; sleeveless and clingy, it clearly showed the silver studs that pierced through his nipples, and ended with ragged strips that exposed his abdomen invitingly. His throat was adorned with a studded black collar and a bell that chimed whenever he moved; his arms were covered by a pair of striped fingerless gloves that extended halfway up his upper arms. His powerful legs were sharply defined by the fitted leather pants he wore; each coloured section of pink or purple was stitched to the next stripe with thick leather cords. He was barefoot; despite the human appearance of his feet, his toes, like his fingers, were tipped with sharp claws. His face, for the most part human, was topped by large pierced cat ears that blended into the pink and purple stripes of his hair; a similarly coloured tail flicked lazily back and forth behind him. His lips, split so wide by an amused grin, were also decorated with two silver rings. Altogether, he presented a perfect picture of the alluring danger of wild Wonderland—a picture that Theodore was not entirely sure he was comfortable with.
The Cat gave him a knowing smirk. "Enjoying the view?" he asked casually. Startled, Theodore flushed bright red.
"N-no, I was—I mean—I-I've just never s-seen you—up close before," he stammered.
"Relax," said the Cat, "I'm just teasing. You don't have to get so worked up around me—I mean, I did just save you and all. I'm not going to eat you."
"Oh—yes, I, um—th-thank you," Theodore said, still at a loss; the Cat's grin wasn't helping him feel especially at ease.
"Theodore, relax," the Cat repeated, laying a reassuring hand on the Rabbit's shoulder. "You're fine now. Hell, you should be used to it—you work for her, don't you?"
It took Theodore a few disoriented moments to realize he was talking about the Queen of Hearts. "Oh—yes. She—she has her—her moments," he rambled. "A-and the King always sews them back together—"
"Good," the Cat interrupted, cracking another smile. "Then you've got nothing to worry about."
"I—I should probably get inside—"
"Mh, yeah," the Cheshire Cat said, stretching. "Wonderland's back to its usual dangerous self." He grinned.
That was enough to distract Theodore for a moment. "What are you smiling for?" Surely he wasn't happy about the danger...
The Cat chuckled. "As fun as it is watching outsiders trying to cope with us, and as glad as I am of the stir of activity they leave behind, I'm always happiest to see them go. I'd much rather be myself. That girl and her bloody Victorian sensibilities were fucking up my speech patterns."
Theodore paled at the language, making the stark red of his eyes stand out even more. "Oh, I-I see," he stuttered. "Well, I'd—I'd better get inside—"
"Hold on," the Cat said, catching his arm at the elbow when he turned away. "I just saved your life. Don't you think you owe me something?"
"I—I already said thank you," Theodore began hesitantly, looking up into the Cat's bright purple eyes.
"Of course you did," the Cat purred. "But your life is worth more than that, isn't it?"
The Rabbit felt his blood run cold. "B-but," he protested, "you're the Cheshire Cat! What sort of reward could I possibly give you?" Frantic, he quickly began running through a mental list of his prized possessions. "I don't—"
The Cat interrupted him with a finger on his lips. "I thought I told you to call me Chesh," he said mildly. "Don't worry about it. I'm only teasing; you don't have to do anything more. Though if you did want to give me a reward, there is something I wouldn't mind..."
"Th-there is?"
"Naturally," the Cat said with a smile. "A kiss."
"A kiss?" the Rabbit practically choked.
"Would it really be so much trouble?" Chesh asked, flashing a smile. "Just one little kiss?"
"B-but—I mean, I've never—"
"You really are quite adorable, you know," the Cat interrupted, brushing a stray lock of white hair—one of many—back from the boy's forehead. The Rabbit shivered at his touch.
"W-what do you mean?" he asked, blinking up at him innocently.
"I mean you're sweet," Chesh said, smiling patiently. "Your little glasses, the way your hair won't lie flat, those adorable ears and the little tail, the bow tie, your conservative clothes—I bet you'd even be wearing shoes if your feet were shaped right for them," he added, gesturing down at Theodore's rabbit paws. "It's really very charming. You don't see this sort of thing in Wonderland often."
"Oh," Theodore stammered, "I—I n-never thought about it—no one's ever—"
"Called you cute?" the Cat finished. "Well, you are. So, how about it, Theo?" he purred. "Will you give me a kiss?"
"I, I—" Theodore began, bewildered. "Y-you really—want me to?"
"Of course." Chesh smiled.
"Oh—I, um... o-okay—" the Rabbit said uncertainly, taking a tiny step towards him. Smile growing into a pleased grin, Chesh closed the gap between them, gently threading the fingers of one hand into Theodore's hair as he tipped his head back. The young man was trembling in his arms.
"Just relax," he purred, dipping his head down to press a kiss to Theodore's lips.
The kiss was soft and slow. Chesh chose not to push him, nudging his lips gently with his tongue, but not pressing for entrance. When he pulled away, it was relaxed and gradual. Trembling delicately, Theodore's eyes took a long time to flutter open.
"There," Chesh murmured, voice low. "Was that so bad?"
Giving him one wide-eyed look, the young Rabbit broke from his hold, fleeing towards his house. Chesh let him go. His kiss would remain imprinted on Theodore's mind. For now, there was no hurry.