Author's note: I've finally got the gist of fanfiction format :D i was a in a bit of a conundrum in how to go about short chapters and how to change them. :D

Story: contains malice and a bit of madhatter

Disclaimer: I do not own Alice in Wonderland (2010)

On the Losing side


The afternoon sun grazed the roof tops of the crooked London streets as a black cab bumbled along the cobbled street.

"Mum, Im not entirely sure if my presence is even needed for this party," Alice said breaking the quiet tension.

"Alice dear, your father would have wanted you to be there for the company, for us." Her mother said dourly, softening slightly at the sight of her daughter looking out the window getting lost in the folds of her mind, "You really are your father's daughter. He spent more time walking on clouds than focusing on the ground."

Alice looked up and offered a silent truce in form of a small comforting smile, knowing full well her mother missed her father just as much.

"Alice! Are you not wearing a bra!" Thus peaceful truce, was interrupted. Pulling the window curtain closed shut, Alice's mother pulled out a spare bra while Alice mumbled that some of the men were more endowed than she.

The cab pulled up to the side of Ascot Manor, Alice's mother gave her a fleeting glance before masking it with the usual stern façade.

"Remember: to hold your tongue unless spoken to, do not under any circumstances mention Mr. Bentley Bruce's toupee being askew, or a repeat of the animal fiasco," Alice's mother trailed off while picking a loose thread from her daughter's dress, "and please for Heaven sake; don't argue with the old boys. Henry nearly blew a gasket when you suggested to – "

Alice tilted her head, undeterred by the amounting reminders "I wouldn't have to argue, Mother if they knew women have the same right to hold position of power than being attuned to only one position in the bedroom."

Before her mother could correct the crudeness of Alice's statement, a scathing cough was heard making the presence of Mrs. Ascot known. "Alice, Hamish is waiting for you at the dance floor. Join him, now" she clipped out in cold precision, leaving no room for greetings or objections.

Alice was left to the sharks as the matriarchs went to join the other wives in the tea room, undoubtly to gossip, able to get their kicks in the form of a parlor served with secrets.


Navigating herself through the throngs of people that littered the expansive garden, Alice suddenly found herself blocked by the Wheedle twins. Oh the smartly dressed ladies certainly lived up to the meaning of their surname -

"We know of a secret…" they paused for suspense, "regarding you!"

"It's not really a secret now is it?"

"Oh, I don't if we should tell her" Wheedle one staged whispered (Alice had no reason to waste time remembering their first names since one was never without the other)

"You have to tell me, you brought it up"

"Oh, but we shan't since it's a secret," they said in unison adopting the tone that nasty little schoolchildren use.

Unperturbed by their antics, Alice sighed. "I wonder how your mother would react if she knew the identities of the skinny dippers in the row race"

"You wouldn't! It was on a dare" they blustered

"Look there she is now, next to the punch." Alice said drawing the attention to the short distance she would have to walk to settle the blow.

"HAMISH IS GOING TO PROPOSE TO YOU!" the Wheedle twins burst, covering their mouths trying not to appear desperate in the attempt to stop Alice.

"Wha -" the start of the question was never finished as she was spun around to face her angry sister, Margaret. "You both ruined the surprise" she growled whilst taking Alice's wrist and guiding her towards the dance floor.

"Does everyone know, Margaret?" Alice asked still dazed from the burst.

"Does it matter, Alice? Anyways, Hamish has been trying to court you for years all those texts, emails, invites and these so called unplanned situations," Margaret waved her arm around to emphasis her point, "yet you've remained oblivious and quite elusive."

"I don't want to marry Hamish"

"Then to whom else, Alice? You won't find better than a CEO, we have half the shares of stock. What better guarantee to ensure father's legacy within the company he made, than marrying into Ascot?" Margaret implored, "Hamish will take care of you, I was lucky with Lowe. I love him and he loves me."

"Even in this day and age, you'd think marriage would be a union of love. Oh but of course sacred unions also extend to business deals and politics. Surely, Margaret we shan't be that destitute enough to sacrifice the youngest to the all powerful mortal, money lords?" Alice acerbically quipped.

"Alice, mother is afraid what will become of father's dream when the takeover happens. Vultures are already circling around Hamish when his father steps down. Father and Mr. Ascot's company will have policies –"

"Are you happy, Margaret? Are you content in just playing safe spy with Lowe the chairman? Or am I to be used as a pawn, in a position so it has better use to influence or be influenced by Hamish?"

The said man, bounded up to the pair. Trying, but failing to cover up his annoyance for waiting too long at the dance floor. "Alice, will you have this dance with me?" Hamish offered his clammy hand successfully cutting off Margaret's reply. Alice tried to gauge out her sister's impression, while being pulled away by Hamish.

The dance itself didn't inspire movement of emotions through body fluidity, it was simply the same routine, and everyone held each other at arms width away with a brief light touches. While Hamish found it invigorating, Alice simply found it not her cup of tea. Alice wanted to use her whole body, show emotion not inflexibility of motor skills.

Watching Mr. Bruce's toupee flutter against a strong gust of wind, Alice thought of it trying to break free and join its comrades in the skies.

"Do I amuse you, Alice?" Hamish's question shook her out of her thoughts.

"No, I was just thinking of toupees joining their flock and encircling those who try to keep it caged still on their heads. What do you think of vultures, Hamish?"

Hamish seemed to be at loss with words, not knowing how to deal with pretty Alice's scatterbrain questions; instead he politely tried to ask her to stop talking. "When in doubt, stay quiet." As the dance ended, Hamish smoothed out his suit and looked at his watch.

"Meet me at the gazebo precisely in 10 minutes," he crisply said already focusing his sight to another direction, ending their one-sided conversation. Becoming frustrated, Alice's elbow nearly bumped into Mrs. Ascot.

"Alice, take a walk with me" Mrs. Ascot looped her arm around Alice's as if to certain she wouldn't run off and escape like the last floozy.

The walk through the white rose lane was similar to walking with a predatory hawk. Mrs. Ascot's beady calculating cold eyes were searching for signs of weakness and imperfection. She snipped about the white roses being the wrong color and considering damaging the reputation of the landscaper.