The summer sun blazed in full as Mother Rosetta sat on her front stoop. The old woman's face was crinkled in concentration, a wry smile gracing her mouth. It seemed things were going just the way she had hoped.
Mother Rosetta had seen many things come and go in the thousands of years she had lived. Many had loved her, she had loved few. Those whom she saw fit to accept her blessing flourished in life. Those whom she cursed bore the marks for generations to follow. Some called her a witch, others simply called her a widow. She lived away from the world, wrapped up in her own times, her own spells, her own needs.
She lived in the world, but was not of it, being instead made purely of magic, time, and power.
Until she found a creature that best befit of her blessing, so she would remain.
But the rashness of youth inspired her, and she found it essential in any she sent forth with her gifts. And so, it was a youthful rashness that brought her to the doorstep of young Jefferson, hat maker and assassin for the queen.
Mother Rosetta had observed the man for five and twenty years, watching his passions and indulgences both in body and blood, and his careful nature once he became a father. She saw him grow from a wild flower into a tame, moldable vine that would serve others as he was served and would cherish the things that brought him life.
Namely, she saw his love and concern for his wife, whom was gone, and his daughter, who remained.
The child meant more to him than his own life, Mother Rosetta saw. She was his princess in a castle made of wood and mud; a light that kept him from returning to the darkness of his past. They were poor, yes, but he treated the girl like a queen, and did his humble best to keep her delightful smile on her face.
Mother Rosetta saw all of these things, and, taking them in measure, decided that this Jefferson would be her next hero.
And so she had made her way into the woodland village in which the Hatter and his daughter lived, integrating herself as thoroughly as a weed amongst wild flowers. Everyone knew of her and everyone respected her; she was considered a mother to all and a helper to many.
But her hero, Jefferson, never came to her for help. He instead instructed his daughter to leave home-made truffles on her doorstep and encouraged her to visit the old woman, as to keep her from getting lonely. Mother Rosetta came to love the child as he did, and knew her decision to reward Jefferson had been correct.
One night, after another basket of truffles appeared on her doorstep, Rosetta made her way to the little cottage-castle in the wood. The hat-maker's daughter answered, and was delighted to see her old friend come to visit. Jefferson presented her with his poor best and made her feel as comfortable as her old bones would let her.
She allowed this indulgence for only a moment, before confronting him directly about the fate of his daughter's mother.
With great hesitation he told her the story of how his wife, Alice, had disappeared. She had been walking through the woods, with their baby girl in her arms, laughing gaily at some joke he had just told. And then she vanished. She disappeared completely beneath his watchful gaze, as if the earth had simply swallowed her up. Jefferson had frantically examined the place he had last saw her, but found only an empty rabbit hole and her necklace adorned with a key at the spot, as well as their baby girl, safe and sound.
He told this story with large, mournful eyes, and Mother Rosetta saw the truth in it. She looked from the man to his daughter, and made her decision.
She revealed to the Hatter what she was: a being as old as the forest and as strong as the redwoods that grew there. His tale and life had proven that he was worthy of her absolute blessing. However, he had to perform one more task in order to assure a comfortable future for himself and his daughter.
Mother Rosetta told him that in order to receive her blessing in full, the Hatter had to marry a woman who was strong in spirit, wise in love, and rich with courage. Such a woman would be a mother to his daughter when she so desperately needed one, and would be a friend to him in his time of greatest trial.
The Hatter was overcome with joy, but looked at the old woman with suspicion. He had been tricked before, and was not eager to be tricked again. He looked to his little girl. Her bright eyes shined back at him, and her little mouth formed a small smile. He called her over and set her on his lap, taking off a necklace from around her neck. He fingered the key on the end for a moment before looking again at Mother Rosetta.
Within a few moments, he agreed to perform this task.
His daughter clapped her hands in delight, but Mother Rosetta sat back in her chair with a sigh, a glint lurking deep in her eyes. She agreed to watch over the Hatter's daughter while he sought out this woman, but warned him to take care. The woman she described would be difficult to find, and many would appear to be her. There was only one, however, and until the Hatter found her, he would not be able to return to the glen, nor see his daughter.
The Hatter rose up in anger, seeing he had been fooled. He moved to strike the old woman, furious with her withholding, but found his hand held back. His daughter stood between him and the woman, staring up at her father with beautiful doe eyes.
The Hatter collapsed at her feet as tears replaced his anger, and he begged her to forgive him.
His daughter continued to gaze at him for a moment, before gently placing a kiss on his forehead. She gently placed the necklace holding her mother's key around his neck before climbing back into the lap of Mother Rosetta.
Jefferson nodded; he understood. He stood and moved to the doorway, looking back to see his daughter one last time. He warned the old woman that if any harm came to his princess while he was away, he would never cease to hunt her until he had destroyed her.
Mother Rosetta laughed at his rashness and promised that as long as she lived, his daughter would remain safe, happy, and healthy.
The Hatter grimaced, but acknowledged her promise. With a final look at his daughter, he turned, and walked out into the woods, not once looking back.
The Hatter's daughter looked up at Mother Rosetta, curiosity in her eyes. The old woman laughed and told the little girl that her father would return to her soon. Mother Rosetta knew her hero's fate, and knew what forced would play against him.
It was through her subtle, undetected help that the Hatter began his trek to the infamous lake, resting just outside the Dark Castle.