Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just play around and take liberties! Based off SyFy's Alice (2009).

Warnings: Angsty chap, contains course language, graphic violence, mentions of torture.

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! *bites nails*


Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Who's the fairest of them all?

Mary Elizabeth Constance Devillious Heart glared sternly at her image, a vial of fuchsia vanity clutched in her thick-as-sausage fingers. Stretched across her broad face was a pair of wide, toad-like lips painted a garish scarlet. False eyelashes curled all the way up to her eyebrows, and her unnaturally crimson hair was piled atop her bloated head like a small town beauty queen. Her steely eyes were sharp and cold.

A crystal heart, about the size of a coconut half, hung from a string of pearls around her leathery neck. The heart, which rested upon her ample bosom, was caged in fine gold filigree that spiraled outward into curly Q's at the bottom point. The crystal itself was hollowed into four compartments, two on either side, each filled with a colored liquid. Currently, the shades of her cocktails were silvery blue, cloudy white, deep burgundy, and emerald green. A quartet of ruby-encrusted caps protruded from the filigree, cresting each compartment.

Tasteful and subtle were not words commonly heard upon Mary Heart's lips.

The Queen lifted her flask to eye level and popped open the silver-blue compartment with her thumb. In a highly practiced ritual, she took a sip of the shimmering blue drink, then a sip of the vanity, and repeated the actions, alternating between the two until she had consumed every last drop. She set down the empty vial, observing her reflected features soften into a sweet smile. Satisfied, she waddled to her cabinet to replenish the clear cavity in her crystal heart.

Running her fingers along the labels of her personal stores, she muttered irritably to herself. "Pah!" she huffed aloud, "Not one of these will do!" She stamped her foot impatiently.

"Number Ten!" she bellowed.

No answer.

"Number Ten!" She whirled around, prepared to storm out of her private chambers.

"NUMBER TEN!"

The double doors opened a crack, and a rosy-cheeked man in a red pinstripe suit peeked his head tentatively into the room.

"Mary, my sweet candy heart, I thought I heard your dulcet tones! What is it that you need?"

The Queen stared daggers at her husband. "Winston, where is that impudent Ten of Clubs? I've been calling for him and he's not here!"

"Now, my pet, remember what Mad March told us?" The King spoke patiently. "Number Ten was taken hostage by Caterpillar's army along with Carpenter and the Oyster girl." Winston cringed. "And…your ring."

Steam practically spouted from Mary's ears at the reminder of such a humiliating outrage. She took a swig of the green cocktail.

"And why haven't we found them? Where's Mad March?"

"Er, dearest, remember? You commanded March to track them down just yesterday. He must be out hunting them down this very minute."

The Queen was silent for a moment, considering. "Quite right," she admitted mildly.

"Now, my scrumptious strawberry, what was it that you needed?" He hadn't deviated from his place at the doorway.

"My personal stores have grown rather dull. I need someone to go to the distillery and mix something up for me. Something I've not yet tried. Something original and…unexpected."

Winston snapped his fingers at a Spade standing sentry in the corridor, who made haste to carry out the Queen's bidding.

With a smug smirk, Mary took another drink, sashaying through the velvet drapes to her private terrace, silken red robes swishing about her rotund body.

-oOo-

"Which one, which one?"

"How about this?"

"No, no, the boy has plenty of anger in him."

"How does he have such strong emotions, I wonder?"

"Ho hum, nevermind that. How about this?"

"Oh dear, that won't do at all. We want him to remember where the Great Library is, you know."

"Oh very well, I had forgotten all about that. Ah! I know just the thing!"

"And I know just the other thing!"

Cynically insane cackles bounced off the stone and echoed thickly in Hatter's ears. He sluggishly lifted his head and blinked in an effort to sharpen his blurry vision. A pair of grayish blobs moved closer, and Hatter steeled himself for more agonizing torture. He glowered at the blobs with a clenched jaw, stifling a groan when they simultaneously jabbed hypodermic needles into each bicep. Well, this is new.

Hatter could make out the blobs circling what was probably a hospital cart, and he could distinguish the sounds of clinking glass and tapping steel.

Then the terror crept in. Right from the pit of his stomach. And panic when the blobs approached yet again. This time, he struggled against his chains and yelped in pain when the dull needles pierced his flesh. What are these bloody headcases doin' to me?

He must have said as much out loud, because the blobs chortled.

"Oh, a little of this."

"A little of that."

They sounded positively boastful.

"Just some fresh Oyster tea…"

"From our fresh dungeon stores."

Oyster tea? Hatter knew a thing or two about emotion teas, but he'd never come across anything like this. Doubt leaked into his brain. He tried to shake it off. "Didn't know the Hearts harvested anythin' but sunshine, rainbows, that sorta thing," he croaked. His pulse was going a mile a minute and he was getting nauseous.

"Oh, what the Queen doesn't know…"

"Doesn't hurt the Queen."

"Let's just say we have free reign."

"And we do dislike wastefulness."

Hatter stared blankly at the twins, focusing his energy on slowing his heart.

"What do you think happens to all the little Oysters?"

"Once they're drained of all the good?"

Hatter couldn't manage a response. He was having trouble discerning whether his inner turmoil was real or a result of the injections. He surmised it was probably a composite of the two, each one feeding off the other.

"They become our little pets!"

"We play with them all we like!"

"We can distill much more of our chesh."

"Using our methods."

"And they never run out of the bad."

"Oh, certainly not!"

"Not when we're having our fun!"

The twins erupted into chuckles, slapping their knees as if someone had just told a hilarious joke.

Hatter's anger, authentic anger, rumbled through his body. But his tolerance for teas must have only extended to the positive ones he was accustomed to, and his wrath soon dissipated into his previous state of terror, panic, doubt, and…what else? He didn't recognize the rest. He'd never consumed anything purely negative from an Oyster.

The blobs continued speaking in their peculiar fashion of finishing one another's sentences.

"And we have just dosed you…"

"With our freshest…"

"Purest…"

"Most concentrated chesh…"

"From the tasty Oysters…"

"In our tasty dungeons…"

Hatter made every effort to remain calm as the insane doctors went back to their cart of vibrant beakers. His vision had cleared considerably, and he could see that they were refilling the same syringes with more tea. His stomach felt like lead and cold sweat was pouring off his face.

He was screaming when they stabbed him again, this time in his armpits.

He was losing control.

-oOo-

Mary sipped thoughtfully from her crystal flask. The periwinkle concoction the Spade had brought her wasn't all that different from what she commonly drank, and she made a mental note to have him decapitated. She gazed out over the green field towards the horizon, her balcony facing away from the distant towers of the hazy city.

"Your majesty!" The Nine of Clubs burst through the cardinal red drapes. "They're back!"

"You foolish Club! Don't you know how to knock?"

"Now, my dearest, to be fair, it is rather tricky to knock on velvet." Winston had appeared behind Number Nine, hands clasped behind his back.

"Good heavens, Winston, don't encourage him! He should be dealt with!"

"In time, my sweet. He has good news!"

"Good news?" Mary turned towards Nine. "Well?"

Nine cleared his throat. "Your majesty, Number Ten has returned with Carpenter."

"Returned?"

Winston rocked back on his heels. "Yes, my delectable apple dumpling! Remember? They were captured by the Resistance."

"So Mad March found them, then?"

"On the contrary, your majesty," corrected Nine. "They escaped Caterpillar's hideout and crossed the water in a stolen boat!"

"Escaped?" The Queen let out a haughty laugh. "That wasn't so difficult, now was it? The Resistance, what a delightful joke!"

"Indeed, your majesty!"

"And my ring?"

Nine glanced nervously at Winston, who shrugged. "Well…they informed us that the girl still has it and that she's been taken to an undisclosed, secure location."

Mary's nostrils flared. "And that's your good news?" There was a hint of danger to her voice.

The Nine of Clubs stammered. Winston stepped in. "Now, poppet…"

"Don't you 'now poppet' me, you buffoon! I wear the crown around here! Off with his head!"

Nine squeaked. Winston looked at him discreetly, raising his eyebrows and jerking his head to indicate that he should leave. What the Queen didn't realize was that she'd sentenced Number Nine to be executed just the other day, and Winston had overruled her orders. Her authority was slipping, but she was oblivious, placated by praise and high on a steady stream of feel-good Oyster emotions.

She took a few sips of the cloudy white cocktail. Winston made to pat her on the shoulder, but she shoved him away, staring out over the balustrade. A flock of squawking birds flew overhead in a V. There wasn't a cloud in sight.

"Mary, my dear, we really should be on our way to the throne room, hear what Carpenter and Number Ten have to say. Perhaps they've uncovered clues that will help us crush the Resistance once and for all?" Winston spoke slowly, carefully, as though he were tiptoeing through a minefield.

"You handle it." The Queen waved her hand dismissively. "And send Number Ten in here when you're through."

"Yes, dear."

-oOo-

Hatter had to focus on something other than the suffering and the horror. Anything. The cinnamon that stuck to his olfactory glands said Bonnie.

"That one's Diocles. See?" The redhead pointed to the night sky from where she lay in the cool grass.

"Where?"

"See that big green one?"

Hatter's eyes swept the starry sky. "Yep!"

"And the small cluster just beneath it?"

"Yep!"

"K. Those are s'posed to be his fist. See how those three other stars form a triangle to the left? That's his body, and the bright one there is his head!"

"Diocles, eh?"

"Yep! He was a…"

Hatter gazed up at the sky as his sister rambled on about Diocles, arms crossed behind his head. She'd found a thick book filled with sky charts, star facts, and legends about the constellations in the same dumpster they'd discovered Dormie. The book was tattered and missing a number of pages, but she treated it with care and reverence. All three were literate, yet not one of them had ever seen an actual book before. Bonnie spent entire afternoons poring over the charts, puffing on her pipe and sipping a steaming cup of fascination, soaking up the ancient knight mythology. She'd continued to read it long after she'd memorized the entire thing word for word.

Hatter himself never opened Bonnie's star book. He liked to listen to her enthusiastic chatter. He knew how much she loved talking about it, so he let her teach it all to him. By the end, he also had the entire thing memorized. After she was gone, he ravenously devoured the books in the Great Library, as if it would compensate for the reality that she'd never get the chance to read any of them.

Bonnie made Hatter's heart ache. He had to occupy his mind with something else.

"I was afraid you weren't coming back."

"You still don't trust me?"

Cinnamon wafting from Alice in a certain purple coat. Alice glowing in the moonlight. Lovely Alice. Wet Alice. Sniffing her damp dark hair. Refreshing taste of spring water on her neck. Fragrant vanilla rising from her ivory skin.

Alice…

Alice had escaped. Alice was alive.

The shattered man had salvaged one whole piece of his heart, and that's what he clung to.

Then he heard an electronic voice that fused one more piece – a piece of hatred. He could cling to that, too.

"I'll take it from here. Leave us," the voice ordered.

"Oh, but this is ever so much fun!"

"Yes, we're not through with him yet!"

"I said scram, you nutjobs!" March kicked at them, and they begrudgingly made their way out the solid iron door.

"Hatter, glad to see you're awake, old buddy! I got another surprise for ya."

Hatter couldn't keep the trepidation from coursing through his veins. And whatever else was mingling with his blood cells.

"But first…"

Hatter watched March fill the Tweedle's syringes with a greenish-yellow liquid. He'd already seen the twins use that color, but he had no energy to wonder what it was. He was in shackles, beaten, dehydrated, low on blood, and drugged with who knows what. He felt powerless, resigning himself to the inevitable. At least Alice was safe.

"Wanna know what this is?" March had positioned himself in front of the broken man.

When Hatter didn't answer, he got another boot to the ribs.

"I asked you a question."

Nothing.

"I'll tell ya anyway. It's ultra-concentrated cowardice. Hot and fresh. You should see what those weirdoes do to the Oysters in the coward cells." Like the twins before him, March laughed at some unspoken joke. "I'll assume the crazy docs already shot you up with plenty of chesh, judgin' by all those puncture marks on your skin –"

Hatter uttered a feeble whimper.

"– And the pathetic way you're actin' right now." He held up the two syringes. "So, these little beauties oughta do the trick."

Hatter screwed up his face and bellowed when March skewered him with both needles just to the left of his sternum, Pulp Fiction style. His heart felt like it might explode, and he could sense the tea traveling through his bloodstream.

March waited until Hatter's howls had subsided before unfastening his shackles. No strength in his legs, the tortured man crumpled to his feet. The white rabbit gave Hatter one more brutal kick with his steel toe, sending him rolling. Hatter managed to crawl his way to a corner, curled up and trembling, nursing the raw wounds on his wrists and ankles. He had no idea why March had freed him, and he wished he could escape, but he was petrified, glued to the spot.

"You're gonna wanna see this."

Hatter was scared to look, but he dug down deep and peeked one eye open.

March stood next to a glass partition in the stone that Hatter hadn't noticed before. He watched the assassin reach up and flip a switch, illuminating the glass. And there was his Alice on the other side of a one-way mirror.

"Look who I caught sneaking around."

-oOo-

Things were going smoothly. A little too smoothly, in Santi's opinion. The King and court had accepted the yarn he and Hamilton had woven about the daring escape from their hostile imprisonment. Alice had even roughed them up a bit before arriving at the casino to make their story more believable. No one had questioned them; the entire court had merely applauded and taken celebratory shots from their individual flasks.

Santi knew that the Queen had the batches of tea that were rationed to her subjects spiked with amenability, (which is why he'd always gone directly to Carpenter for his own supplies), but he still found himself on edge, waiting for someone to find a hole in their tall tale.

To his relief, when the Queen had summoned him to her chambers, she wasn't the least bit curious about their adventure. She had simply wanted to instruct him to go to Carpenter and come up with some new concoctions for her. "Surprise me," she'd directed. When she'd entrusted him with her crystal heart, Santi's eyes had threatened to pop out of his skull.

Yes, things were going far too smoothly.

He wondered how Alice was faring in her mad attempt to rescue her boyfriend. He'd discover her status soon enough and whether or not he had to dash underground to deal with the twins. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but no one in the court, not even the King, seemed to know anything about a captive Resistance fighter. That worried him a great deal, because in all likelihood that meant March had something personal against this Hatter. If he was keeping this below the radar to use the doctors' dungeons for his own vendetta…

Maybe things weren't going so smoothly after all. He picked up his pace.

Head bowed in thought, Santi rounded the corner and collided with a woman's body that had been walking just as quickly in the opposite direction. He stumbled a little, but the woman was knocked to the ground.

"Duchess! I'm so sorry! Forgive me!" Santi fussed over the leggy blonde, unsure of where to touch her as he tried to help her back to her feet. She waved off his fumbling attempts to assist her and stood on her own, dusting off her purple pleather minidress.

Truth be told, Duchess was showing far less skin than usual, the sheer mesh cutouts baring only her midriff and a bit of her chest. Her legs were covered in lavender tights and white knee-high boots, her shoulders and neck were clad in cap sleeves and a mock turtleneck. She looked like she had stepped right out of one of those campy Oyster science fiction films that Santi loved so much.

He owned a variety of pirated Oyster VHS tapes as well as a compact TV/VCR that he kept locked in a secret anteroom in his quarters. He had a junkie contact in the Great Library that snuck him books, Oyster movies, and other gems in exchange for teas from the distillery. The furtive duo didn't share information, they benefited solely from a mutual desire for something that was forbidden in their own corner of the world. Ten would have been charged with sedition and sentenced to death by the Queen. The junkie would have been shot by Dodo for risking their security.

"Number Ten, I've been looking for you."

Santi woke from his sci-fi reverie. "Duchess?"

"I was hoping to hear some more details of your fascinating story. I'm awfully curious, it must have been terrifying!" She spoke in a satiny, ditzy voice that reminded him of Marilyn Monroe.

Santi's heart pounded rapidly. Did she know? Most people bought the Duchess' façade of a witless beauty, but Santi knew better. He gulped, his throat dry.

"Um, certainly…but can this wait? I'm on my way to get the Queen her tea."

"Playing fetch for her majesty?"

Santi's eyes narrowed. "Is that all? You came looking for me to taunt me?"

"Santiago…" The tone of her voice grew gentle, more serious.

Santi started. Duchess hadn't uttered his given name in nearly a decade, and he wasn't yet accustomed to hearing it out loud, especially in the casino.

"C-Calysta?" He couldn't recall the last time he'd spoken her true name, though he'd never stopped referring to her as Calysta in his mind.

A genuine smile, the first Santi had seen on her since she was a teenager, broke out across Calysta's face. Her typically spiritless blue eyes sparkled.

"Santiago…" she repeated, then smiled again. "Santi, if it's not too much trouble, I'll just accompany you to the distillery."

Santi hesitated. She had disarmed him, calling him by name and flashing that beaming smile. But she had questions about his story, which made him apprehensive. He decided he'd better tread with caution, mindful not to underestimate her.

He nodded his head, which was topped with that ridiculous cap all Clubs were required to wear in court, and offered his arm with a tight grin. Calysta's glossy lips twitched into a smirk and she took his elbow.

"Shall we?"

-oOo-

"I knew she'd turn up. Why bother goin' lookin' for someone when they come so willingly?"

Alice's face was wet with tears and she had a busted bottom lip. Her arms were marked with finger-shaped bruises and she was suspended from the ceiling by a rope that lashed her delicate hands together. By the slight way she was swaying, Hatter could tell that her feet barely touched the ground, and he figured her ankles were strapped together as well.

"Alice!" Hatter called weakly from where he huddled in the corner.

"She can't hear you, but you can definitely hear her!" March sniggered. "You just stay right there, scaredy cat. Though I don't know why I bother, you're not goin' nowhere with all that chesh in your system!" He whipped out his revolver, putting on a big show of loading it and spinning the chamber. "That's the best part. You're just as pathetic without the chains, and you won't do nothin' about it. I'm gonna enjoy this!" He disappeared out the door, slamming the iron bolt into place, and reappeared on the other side of the mirror. Hatter saw him set the gun on a round table that was already cluttered with ominous metal devices.

Alice squirmed against her bindings at the sight of the madman.

"Well, hello to you too, doll." March circled the Oyster girl, ogling her up and down. She stared straight ahead, maintaining as much of a poker face as possible, given the circumstances. "If your pretty boyfriend had just told me where the Great Library is, we coulda avoided this whole mess." He resumed his predatory orbit.

"Hatter will never tell you anything!" The words gushed from her lips like a waterfall.

"Is that so?" March paused in front of the defenseless girl, slipping his hand into his blazer.

Cowering in the shadows, Hatter witnessed the unfolding events with increasing horror. He could no longer cling to the hope that Alice was safe and unharmed. His minimized logic told him to muster the fortitude to stop Mad March and save her from a terrible fate, but the tea in his veins was too strong. He had no tolerance, after all, and since Alice had arrived in his life he'd mainly experienced powerfully wonderful emotions. He attempted to draw those forth, but remained immobile, blubbering on the dank floor like the wimpy kid that gets jumped by the bullies in the schoolyard. Yet his eyes never strayed from Alice behind the glass.

There was the scraping metal shunk of a switchblade, and Alice shivered visibly when March grazed her face with the blunt edge.

"Maybe you know where the Great Library is." The blade flipped against her skin, eliciting a shaky hiss from her lips as the knife etched a fine trail of blood down her soft cheek.

Alice glared directly at the rabbit head. "I don't know a goddamn thing. If I did, I sure as hell wouldn't tell you."

"That so? Well, I have ways of making you talk."

"It won't do you any good," she retorted.

"That's funny, that's exactly what your boyfriend said before I blew his brains out," March lied.

Alice hitched on a despairing sob. "Well then you'd better kill me too, because I'm not telling you a fucking thing," she spat between clenched teeth.

"Heh, heh. Not yet, doll. I got different plans for you."

March lowered his knife and nicked Alice's creamy neck. Thick beads of dark blood slid down her chest to the top of her dress. March smeared the blood over her collarbone with his fingers, bringing has hand up to wipe it off on his ceramic buck teeth.

"What I wouldn't give to taste your sweet blood. I have your boyfriend to thank for that." He slashed furiously at her dress, and more blood oozed out from the slits he'd made, staining the sky-blue fabric.

Alice cried out at each slash, tears squeezing from her clenched eyes. "Hatter…" she whimpered.

Then she screamed. March was inscribing a long, deep line along her inner thigh, lifting her dress so he could cut all the way to her bikini line. He roughly grabbed her ass and ground her against him.

Alice began to weep, calling Hatter's name over and over.

"Don't worry, dollface, you'll be joining your dead boyfriend soon enough. But before we do that, let's see what we got under here…" March commenced cutting open her dress with the switchblade, starting at the bloodstained top.

Alice was sobbing uncontrollably, shrieking and thrashing helplessly.

March chuckled. "I could dose you with lust, make you like it when I fuck you. Make you beg for more, ya bitch of a whore! But why spoil all my fun?" He sliced the dress further, revealing her heaving cleavage and cherry red bra. A huge purple bruise sprawled across her chest.

"Nice." The psychopath traced the fresh gashes on her skin with his fingertips before returning to sawing off the rest of her dress.

Alice, I'll always make sure you're okay.

His Alice was crying for him, March was preparing to do the unspeakable, and intensely overwhelming love, protectiveness, and hatred were seeping into Hatter's synapses. He zoned in on them with a vengeance, willing his mind to forget the Tweedle's teas, willing his body to stand on shaky legs.

Trust me.

Rallying his entire being with a roar, Hatter launched his right fist at the glass and plunged headfirst through the shattering mirror.

March was caught off guard, having been so intent on Alice and so unconcerned with the drugged Hatter. By the time he turned to face the freed man, blade at the ready, Hatter had sprung to his feet and seized the revolver off the table.

March lunged at the weakened man before he could cock the gun, but Hatter was fueled by something elemental. Something fierce.

With a strangled cry, he met March's abdomen with his sledgehammer fist. The Queen's assassin flew backwards and slammed against the rocky wall, sliding down until he lay on the stone ground, clutching his stomach and groaning. An electronic groan of pain…now there's somethin' ya don't hear every day.

Without batting an eyelash, Hatter cocked the revolver and aimed the barrel directly at March's groin, stalking towards his slumped form on the floor.

BANG!

"That's for Bonnie."

Click.

BANG!

"That's for Alice."

Click.

BANG!

"'N'that's for all th'rest."

Hatter's accent was thickened in his primal state, his words running together and his voice gravelly and desperate. He towered over the screaming man.

Electronic screams. Music to Hatter's ears. But silence would be better.

"Why's a raven like a writin' desk?"

March responded with an unearthly howl reminiscent of an Oyster dialup modem. He was writhing on the floor in agony.

"G'bye, Marchie, ol' buddy."

One more cock of the revolver. One more report of gunfire.

Silence.

Hatter's ears rang in the engulfing hush while he observed the dark blood soaking through March's white turtleneck and black blazer. He tucked the revolver into his waistband and bent down, flicking the lapel open and reaching inside for Bonnie's comb, sliding it into his front trouser pocket. He raised his foot and stomped on the ceramic rabbit head, smashing it to bits, then nudged the dead man aside with his toe, spitting bitterly on the ground.

The ringing in his ears faded and was replaced with Alice's hitched breathing behind him. He spun to face her, veins still pulsing with adrenaline. He stooped for March's switchblade and stretched up to cut the ropes suspending a shell-shocked and shuddering Alice.

"Hatter!" The instant her hands were free, Alice threw her arms around her champion, mingling the blood from her wounds with his. "I thought you were dead!" she sobbed.

But she sent her weight too far forward in her enthusiasm, and his rush of adrenaline was ebbing, superseded by the heavy doses of tea in his system. Hatter winced and staggered, pulling Alice, whose feet were still bound, down with him.

With a heavy thud and a strained groan, they collapsed ungracefully in a mess of arms and legs on the stony floor. Hatter snarled in pain.

"Hatter?" Alice untangled herself to kneel beside him, gingerly touching his grimacing face. "Oh my god…"

"Oh, it's nothin', just a few cuts 'n' bruises. I'm fine," Hatter cracked hoarsely.

"We need to get you medical attention!" Alice's eyes boggled at the visible bone on his wrists.

Hatter was wheezing. "Not yet…first…I need some tea. Peace…I need peace, comfort, anythin'please Alice."

Alice halted midway through untying her ankles. "What?"

"Tweedles…injected me…horror…cowardice…I feel helpless." He pleaded breathlessly. "Need somethin'…counteract…"

Alice forgot her qualms about using Oyster tea in the face of Hatter's plight. She snatched the switchblade, snapping it shut and stuffing it in her small dress pocket. "If that's what you need, that's what we'll get. C'mon, I'm taking you to the central distillery." She removed the rest of the rope from her ankles and heaved Hatter to his feet, supporting his weight on her petite shoulders.

Hatter didn't bother asking how she knew where the distillery was. He just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, leaning on the Alice of Legend. His Alice.

Guess our luck's finally changin'.

~TBC~


A/N: Okay, at least I left you guys with a little hope this time, right? Please let me know what you think, you totally feed my muse and make me want to write something you'll want to read! Calysta is a Greek name that means "most beautiful" or something along those lines. Also, I have zero graphics skills, but there are some basic visual aids for the Queen's flask and the Diocles constellation in my livejournal scrapbook. I made them with Microsoft Word autoshapes, but they get the point across! Thanks for reading =D