Pandora Hearts Times' Game

by Isamenot

Heads were bound to fall; heads were bound to roll. She would take her revenge. This time she would be able to achieve her goal. Time might have made her impatient and ferocious, but that would not stop her.

Pandora Hearts – Times' Game

Disclaimer: I do not own „Pandora Hearts", or any of its characters and places. They all are property to Mochizuki Jun. They are not used to gain money.

Prelude

The Queen of Hearts,

She made some tarts,

All on a hot summer's day.

The Knave of Hearts,

He stole those tarts.

The mad queen said:

'Off with his head!

Off with his head!'

Laughing and humming quietly, she walked through the dark corridors. Her steps were muffled by the carpet. They seemed to be more sensed than actually heard. None of the inhabitants of the rooms she silently passed by knew of her presence. They slept – undisturbed and helpless, exhausted by the day's work: busy learning (even though the schools halls of study were closed for a while).

She had returned. The journey into the woods was finished; as was the enjoyment. The red enjoyment. The music of screams – a concert made of panic, fear and desperate confusion; bodies that perform through lost fighting and damned escape a unique ballet to this music, only to end falling down and forming an extraordinary picture together with their very own blood, a painting whose artist she was. Unfortunately, there was rarely an occasion for such enjoyments.

Yes, she was bound, to her own dissatisfaction, was not able to act freely, like she once had been, like it still should be her prerogative. Just a little, just such a little must have gone awry, she only did not know what it had been. Her whisperings had been fruitful, she felt sure about that. She had been able to seduce innocence to reach for the saving branch: that branch that bore the forbidden fruit, around that she had coiled herself like a serpent. But not only had she achieved that her victim had turned to her for sanctuary and wicked hope; no, her victim even had tasted from that fruit – and had thus fallen into irreversible sin.

She could not say otherwise than that all had gone to her satisfaction; but, the outcome had not been what she had wished for. And that was quite irritating, though she did not admit it to herself willingly.

"The Queen of Hurts, she made some tarts, all on a hot summer's day. The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts. The mad queen said: 'Off with his head! Off with his head!'"

Heads were bound to fall; heads were bound to roll. She would take her revenge. This time she would be able to achieve her goal. Time might have made her impatient and ferocious, but that would not stop her. After all, she knew how to make use of her cage.

Humming quietly, she walked through the darkness. The chuckling laugh had ceased, a soothing calm had taken its place, instead. Her steps lost their resolution and took to an unexpected grace, as she finally vanished in one of the rooms.