Chapter III: King Hatter
The Mad Hatter whistled a merry tune—albeit, out of tune—as he marched around the castle. The Dormouse walked at his side, silent and vigilant.
"Ah, the pressures of royal work...isn't it delightful, Dorma? I've been king less than an hour, and already I've made arrangements to turn the gardens into a boardwalk, make most of the kitchen staff into the next Christmas feast, and trapped my mortal enemies in the dungeon! Ohh, I love it...what should we do next, my dear?"
The Dormouse's head turned slightly, her eyes peering at him from behind her black veil. She said nothing.
"...Yes, you are quite right: I think the guest room should be our next stop. Darling Dorma...you always come up with the best ideas!"
The Dormouse did not respond, but followed the Hatter to the guest room. The Hatter opened the door and waved a hand inside.
"Ladies first, my love," he crooned.
The Dormouse bowed slightly and entered. Hatter smirked and followed her in with a little jump in his step as he went.
"Hmm...yes," he murmered, peering around the room, a hand to his chin, "I think this should be-"
He stopped short, noticing the Duchess and her Cook sitting nearby. The Cook had fallen asleep, while the Duchess continued to knit idly.
"Ahem!" he coughed, standing tall.
The Cook awoke, and the duo looked up at him.
"Who are you? Have we met?" the Cook snapped.
"I should think so; you and I were witnesses at a trial several years ago...at least, I THINK it was years..."
"Oh, yes! You sang at the Queen's royal concert!"
"It's the ex-Queen, now," the Hatter said, with a smirk. "And might I inquire as to what you two are doing in my castle?"
"Your castle?" the Duchess piped, tilting her head slightly. "I was under the impression it was the Queen's!"
"Wonderland is under new management. Me."
The Duchess gasped, clasping her hands together, dropping her knitting.
"Wonderful!" she giggled. "I never did care for the Queen!"
The Hatter and the Dormouse shared a glance, but neither said a word.
"I repeat," the Hatter said, a little louder, "What are you two doing here?"
"Well," the Duchess said, "We came to bring Her…Former Majesty some Macra Bisque Grimwag here made..."
"...But, since you seem to be in charge now," the Cook said with a filthy grin, "Why don't you try some?"
The Cook stood and the Dormouse suddenly stepped forward as her right hand disappeared somewhere into her robes, reaching for something distinct.
The Hatter stopped her with a wave of his hand.
"It's all right, Dormouse," he whispered, and tasted some of the Macra Bisque the Cook offered him...
"Hmm...not bad, actually. A mite chewy, perhaps, but truly delectable...why, I think I'll keep you two alive a little longer!"
"Oh, good! Means we don't have to kill you, neither!"
"My good sir," the Duchess said, standing now, "We were wondering..."
"It's King Hatter!" snapped the maniac, rounding on the Duchess with a sneer. "Address me as such!"
The Duchess paused, and then curtsied clumsily.
"King Hatter," she tried again, "I'd like to ask a question..."
"Have you the ability?"
"Yes, I think-"
"Then go ahead."
"Perchance, have you any idea what's been done with the human that was accompanying Time?"
"I should; I sent her to dungeon not too long ago. I was planning on having that little thing beheaded...in small increments, no less."
"Aw, what a waste," the Cook mumbled with a curious pout.
"Oh, you're welcome to take the scraps!" the Hatter chirped, grinning hugely.
"With all due respect, King Hatter," the Duchess said, giving another wobbly curtsey, "We were planning to make that human our OWN feast...we could even do the beheading for you, if you wish. We haven't had our sixth lunch yet, as it is, so we are quite famished..."
The Hatter turned his eyes upward and "hmmed" thoughtfully.
"Okay, then!" he said at last, brightly, and cleared his throat, before climbing up onto a nearby cedar chest and holding his head and his hand high in proclamation. "As the new King of Wonderland, I, the Mad Hatter, do declare that the Duchess Daemore of the Fromagian Grig, and her Cook, shall have the first pick from the dungeon! They may take any prisoner they choose from to do with as they please...provided, of course, I, as King, get to keep their head."
He then hopped down from the box and smiled at the two, hands on his lapels.
"Fair enough?"
"Oh, it's lovely!" the Duchess laughed. "I simply can't wait to get my hands on that one! Maybe even try the one covered in question marks-"
"No!" shouted the Hatter, furiously, slamming his hand on the cedar chest. The Mad Hatter then turned around, took a breath, and turned back towards the Androgums. With a calm tone and a crooked smile, he stated, "That particular dish is off the menu."
"Oh, well, never mind. He doesn't look too tender anyway. Like veal, the best meat always comes from the young."
"I believe I'll have her baked," the Cook murmered, thoughtfully. "Compared to Macra, she'd be a piece of cake...cherry, frosting and all..."
"Huh. An interesting dish, that," chuckled the Hatter.
The Cook guffawed and clapped the Hatter on the shoulder.
"Heh Heh! I like you; good to be in the King's favor!"
"Come, Grimwag," the Duchess commanded, waving a hand imperiously. "Let us away! To the pantry...er, I mean, the dungeons!"
As the two Androgums bustled away, the Hatter giggled to himself.
"Ah...the smiling faces of one's subjects...such a joy. Wouldn't you say so, Dorma?"
There was no reply.
Hatter grinned wider and patted the Dormouse on the head like a puppy.
"Dorma," he said, "Sometimes I think you and Marchy are the only people worth talking to around here; he does the talking so well, and you are such a marvelous listener!"
With a hearty laugh, the Mad Hatter then walked back to the throne room with the Dormouse in tow.
As the Hatter pushed the doors open, he was greeted by the sight of the March Hare, standing on the arm rest of the throne—which was flanked by a pair of Raston Sentries—swinging a large, gold scepter, topped with a ruby in the shape of a heart, like a bat.
"Oh, there you are!" March smiled. "Tell me...what is this thing? And what's it for? Can we play cricket with it?"
"Marchy, that is the royal scepter of Wonderland, and it is NOT to be played with!"
"Oh, but it's so good at balancing things...even if I'm not..." the Hare grumbled, and gestured to a pile of broken saucers lying on the floors.
The Hatter rolled his eyes.
"Cards," he ordered, "Get the Royal Janitor, and bring him to the guest room—soon to be the pool table room, by the way—to await my commands. Then, bring Time to me. I require an audience with him," the Hatter said, rubbing his hands together eagerly.
The Cards both gave a twitching nod, and promptly disappeared.
The Hatter then turned to the Dormouse, who stood stock-still at the foot of the throne, and the March Hare, who was preparing to balance another saucer on the royal scepter.
"Leave us," he said coldly. "I wish for this to be a private meeting."
The Dormouse bowed, and silently exited the room.
The Hare, meanwhile, slapped something onto the saucer. He then proceeded to try and balance it again, convinced that it would do the trick.
The Mad Hatter blinked and cocked his head to one side.
"Um...Marchy? Did you not hear me?"
"Not now, not now!" March hissed, concentrating. "I think I've got it: I buttered up the dish so it gets some momentum-"
CRASH!
Another saucer bit the dust as the scepter was snatched away by the Hatter, who stood there, panting angrily as the startled March Hare shrank back.
"GET OUT!" the Hatter bellowed. "NOW!"
The Hare gulped and bounded away.
"Sorry, Hatter!" he called back just before he left.
Hatter sighed irritably and sat back on the throne to await the Doctor's arrival...