Summary: Alice was ignored after she told of her Wonderland adventure some years ago. After the Looking-Glass feat, her family began to worry as to the girl's sanity and attempted to hush her "nonsense" up. She built her own world within, and grew dark. When the mental house is discussed, she snaps. Now, 15 years old and out for blood, Alice seeks to execute her twisted fantasies, through the 2 worlds none believed in but her, manipulating others in a way that fames her the "Puppet Mistress"

Disclaimer: Alice, Wonderland, and the Looking Glass characters all belong to Lewis Carroll. However, I copyright Alice's new persona and this storyline to me. The twisted versions of characters are somewhat mine. Please don't copy them

A/N: Hia! This is my first Alice in Wonderland fic. You must know, THIS STORY IS FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ BOTH THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS AND WONDERLAND. I hate how Disney mashed those together. Anyway, if you don't know the where the worlds separate, I think you'll get the idea after a bit. Honorable mention to Shaun, who inspired much of this story and filled in more gaps then I could even see! Thank you editor in chief! Here goes.

Chapter 1, Believing

The darkness was utterly complete. It was oppressive, it was eerie, but it was complete. The only light exuded from a fair haired young woman at its center, her bleached white apron stark against the black backdrop. Her lilac dress produced almost no contrast to her ivory skin and those pale yellow tresses that hung in waves halfway down her back. Her cool, crystalline eyes cast their blue gaze out frantically for something unseen. Her black Mary-Jane shoes made not a sound against the dark flooring. Tugging nervously at the black, silk ribbon in her yellow hair, it became clear that her eyes were fixated upon another, growing light. The silhouette of a black-and-white cat made itself prominent against the light.

"Dinah… Dinah? Don't get lost in the light, silly kitty, they'll take you away.. No… Dinah.. Dinah come back!!!" The young woman, Alice, called desperately, velveteen voice growing shrill and unpleasant. The dark and the light swirled about her in muddled confusion and….

…………………………………………………………………………

"Alice, Dinah is dead. You know that. Now stop being such a silly girl!" Alice's sister stared at the girl, the young lady, the schizophrenic freak. She tossed her head in utter disdain, chocolate ringlets following the movement like whipcord.

"Dinah's not dead… she never died! Can't you see her, Anita? Look at her. She wants you to pet her Anita. Pet her," Alice's blank blue eyes quested over her sister's skirts as if Dinah was there, purring and rubbing up against her knee. Her limp, gaunt frame lay in her ornately embroidered armchair as a dead body might in its coffin. Alice's customary lilac dress, not quite as blue as it had been years ago, and petticoats hung quite still against her legs, just touching her knees. Only the girl's eerie, large blue eyes and those small red lips dared move. Anita set down her knitting things in exasperation at her fourteen-year-old sister's apparent "silliness".

"Father, Alice is at it again, telling lies and the like!" Heavy footfalls could be heard nearing the lavishly decorated living room. A husky man appeared in the doorframe, looking down his hawk-nose at Alice, his furrowed brow expressing deep displeasure. Alice looked up at him with a fathomless grin.

"Dinah's teeth have grown quite long, Father. Anita says that Dinah isn't here. Tell her that she's lying, Father. Dinah's there. Can't you see her?" Though her words begged, Alice's voice wasn't pleading one. It was unsettlingly cold, as was that mirthless grin spread across her petite, pale face. That stare obviously disturbed her father. Alice had been so… so innocent, and that had been twisted so harshly…

"You have Black Kitty and White Kitty, Alice! Dinah is dead! Now go to your room. No dinner for you tonight, Alice. If this nonsense keeps up young lady, I'll take Dinah's kittens away!" The man had a tendency to lose his temper with his younger daughter of late, and more because her turn for the worse seemed permanent and much more real then the assumed "nonsense". He watched tensely as Alice got to her feet, her grin reduced to a small, secret smile. Those liquid blue eyes met his brown ones with a distinct carelessness present within them.

"Oh Daddy I never asked for dinner. Wouldn't it be strange, Daddy, if everyone answered questions that had never been asked? Then everybody would be quite out of sorts. The wolf wouldn't ask the deer if it wanted to die, and then the deer would be dead!" White stockings were suddenly stark against the black of the cat rubbing up against Alice's legs, almost as if the kitty agreed with what she was saying full heartedly. It did nothing to help the situation at hand.

"Alice, to your room, NOW!" her father bellowed, baritone voice unforgiving in its order. He had no patience for anymore of these strange musings, he even found them unsettling. Alice strode past him, almost floating. Her hard shoes made only the slightest of sounds against the Oriental rug. Her sister looked quite pleased that the disturbance had been removed.

"You know, Father, Dinah's teeth have grown quite long. Wouldn't it be a pity if she bit you, and you bled red blood until there wasn't any left? How much blood can one bleed, I wonder?" The said Father watched Alice go, unable to say a word. The girl's own words had been addressing him, it was clear; however, the way her eyes never fell upon him was strange, and even her sister had picked up on it. They both watched her leave and neither one could help thinking that she had been speculated how many ways her father could die. There was a long, uncomfortable pause that further distorted the usual order of things in the manse.

"Father, something has to be done about her. Why you and Mother have tolerated these… games of hers for so very long, I've not the slightest clue." Anita sat back in her stiff armchair, a hand resting lightly on her knee. "I'm beginning to think," she began again after a pause that made it clear that her father had no intention of directly replying, "that Alice isn't being silly anymore. This has gone on much too long, these…these fragments of stories and these sick anecdotes concerning subjects that a young lady should not know about, much less think about so actively! " The eighteen year old was done, and her fingers clenched her knitting at this point, slightly heeled shoes burying themselves into the rug. Whether she cared about her sister's mental wellbeing or her own, it was hard to tell.

"I know, Anita. You're mother and I have been talking about…." He sighed, his brow furrowing into a conglomeration of unflattering wrinkles. Alice's mother was close enough to hear the conversation and made her way over quickly to join a conversation of utmost importance.

"Anita we've decided to have a doctor come take a look at Alice. She's hardly herself."

"She's hardly a person, anymore, Samantha," corrected her husband sadly, "She's grown so distant and I'm sure I know what the doctor will say. She isn't stable mentally. We'll have to send her away. Samantha, Anita, you both know that today is a good day for her. She screams often in the night, and talks to us about graphic death. More importantly, she says she lives in Wonderland and the Looking-Glass House, and she won't come out until we leave her alone. I think the mental institute would be the best place to put her. Her behavior is ripping apart the family. We cannot have company over anymore." As he finished, he knew that the vote on what to do with Alice was at this point unanimous. What he didn't know was that Alice had been listening.

…………………………………………………………………………

"They're all the same, Kitty. They all smell like filth and waste and sweat and blood, but every time I try to get away they get mad, Kitty. Why do you suppose that is? Dinah is quite displeased with them and their evil habits. She says that I need to go back to Wonderland, but Father just won't let me out of the house. It quite flusters me" Alice's small hand traveled down the length of the black cat's back. The cat, unlike the rest of the family, enjoyed Alice's company so long as she wasn't screaming or ripping the heads off of her dolls and throwing them at the walls.

"And do you know what's strange, Kitty? They just won't let me go into the family room anymore. They didn't like how I would stand in front of that pretty looking-glass for so long. That's what they said, Kitty. I think they don't want me to leave. They'll keep me here forever and ever where the stars don't talk to me and the walls don't smile…: Today was one of those days where Alice was feeling ambitious. Usually, her words tumbled from her mouth, poorly thought out, or at least it sounded that way to the rest of the world. Kitty looked like she was listening, so all was well with the world-

"I think that the mental institute would be the best place to put her. Her behavior is ripping this family apart. We cannot have company over anymore."

Those words floated into Alice's words and the girl stiffened. Kitty leapt to her feet. The cat had learned early on how to read Alice's moods, being the only one who would stay with her for so very long and this mood was not a pleasant one.

She began to laugh in a manner that suggested lunacy. "I'm ripping this family apart? Why, how could I possibly do that? I've not the strength to rip. Only the big cat with sharp claws and a smile of sharp teeth can do that…." Her voice had grown distant, quiet and utterly distant. "Dinah, I know. You needn't tell me what has to be done. I must go back to Wonderland… and the Looking- Glass House. Dinah, how do you suppose I will be in two places at once? Oh, I understand now, Dinah. I know what I have to do. I don't want to go to the mental house, I really don't. I'll bring Black Kitty, and White Kitty, and leave the rest to rot." And then that fathomless, chilling voice stopped, and Alice got very, very quiet.

………………………………………………………………………………..

The family's utter silence was as oppressive as the darkness Alice liked so very much. Of course, the family wasn't used to this…. And they were having a hard time grasping what had been presented among them. Alice had been so nice as a young girl. Things had changed…. But how could it be so very simple? It couldn't. Just as Anita was about to agree with her father, the subject of their conversation appeared in the doorway. Alice was wearing a black dress, less pleated then her lilac one. It was meant for funerals or other more or less solemn occasions. When she suggested to her mother that she wear it whenever she pleased, she was swiftly boxed in the ears. It hadn't helped matters much. Her apron was white, as it always had been; only now no red lined it or its pockets. She was holding one of the swords from her father's collection, and she was smiling an eerily sweet smile. Everyone turned to look at her, and then their gazes quested over to the long, heavy weapon at hand.

"Alice, what did Father say about his swords?" asked her mother warily.

"They shine like the stars and are red when bloodied. Blood cleanses the metal… doesn't it Daddy? Do you think it wants to drink blood?" Her father didn't dare grab at her lest he lose his hand for the stupid movement. The room's atmosphere grew impossibly tense. "Mother, may I see the looking-glass? It's been so very long since I've seen it."

"Alice, dear, you know….," her older daughter and her husband shot her warning looks that seemed both utterly agonized and completely torn with indecision. "Alright." She sighed, and for the first time in over two years, Samantha swung open the living-room door for Alice to pass unabated. As Alice twirled by wearing a dreamy façade, her mother drew up her skirts as if avoiding contact of some hideous, slimy beast. Alice took no notice, straightening out her own black dress as she went along, adjusting the collar now and then. The sword never left her hand, and that sickening smile never left her face. It was because of that smile that her nursemaids had left, because of her constant talk of interesting deaths that many servants refused to clean or work in the same place as her.

"How doth the little crocodile…" she began to sing, crawling onto the ledge above the hearth without waiting. How had she done it before? Ah, that was all she had to do…. Imagine, remember… and it became.

"Improve his shining tail…" Her fingers ran over the glass and her family stared. No, Alice was not the daughter or the sister that they had known for so long. Where was that little, inquisitive girl now, they had to wonder? They watched in disturbed silence as Alice closed her cool blue eyes and grit her teeth.

"And pour the waters of the Nile..." Things were coming back to the girl now… The chess pieces, her having been the red queen for a time, the talking flowers, Tweedledee, and Tweedledum. They were all so very real. The girl could fabricate them in her mind. Alice had gotten good at that, making dreams real.

"On every...golden….scale…" A finger slipped through the glass and that quiet, acidic smile turned into a wide, incomprehensible grin.

"How cheerfully he seems to grin,

How neatly spreads his claws,

And welcomes little fishes in,

With gently smiling jaws!"

Alice's head whipped around to look at her family which, at this point, was beyond any petty utterances. They managed an exchange of glances and a shared tenseness that had been mirrored nowhere in the world. And when they looked back, Alice was gone.

……………………………………………………………………………………

It was just as she remembered it. The little clock on the mantelpiece was backwards, and its little face grinned at her, apparently recognizing her on sight. Alice smiled back. She was home. But this home was a fixer-upper.

"Oh dear," she began in something like vexation, "I do suppose I have changed, little clock. I would think that this place should change with me. Does that logic suit you, little clock?" She asked, lifting a finger to the clock's backwards face. It simply smiled, and Alice smiled back. Things had changed, for once the girl would have thought such a thing somewhat curious, even after her many adventures. Now, it was simply pleasing to the eye, perfectly normal. "Dinah says that you mean yes. Though it would be entirely more pleasing should you speak to me."

Alice, once languid and basking upon her return to this place, suddenly gained a full fury in her eyes. "Why don't you talk, you irritating thing?" She hissed suddenly. "You spoke to me in my dreams, you insolent thing. But you, you're as evil as the rest of the world! How dare you smile at me so!" At this point she was shrieking, and the clock was doing anything but smiling with the face of an old man. He looked positively terrified as Alice threw him to the carpet and slammed the sword into him with all the force of a grown man. Black blood, possibly oil, spouted from the "neck" of the screaming clock and Alice hissed at its unpleasant sound, jamming her heel into its face. That would teach it to look at her so strangely. After the clock was silenced, Alice felt a thrill rush up and down her spine and she began to laugh, a sound that was all at once silken, eerie, and harsh. Alice realized something she had not ever even been aware of in the slightest before.

Killing was fun.