Hello, everyone! Hope you had a splendid holiday. A quick thank you to all my readers, especially you loyal ones. (I notice.) But you're not here to read my blabs, so let's move on!
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anything of Alice in Wonderland. Lewis Carroll, Disney, and Time Burton do.
Inspirational Song: "Hearts That Bleed" – State of Shock (Ironically, if you read the lyrics for this song, it really does express the Mad Hatter's relationship with Alice. Huh. Check it out.)
. . . . .
Ilosovic Stayne, otherwise known as the sadistic former Knave of Hearts, stood huddled over a make-shift desk covered in papers, letters, maps, and routes. He'd turned the Throne Room of the Red Castle into his own personal lair. Several desks of all kinds and forms of storage had been shoved in the room. Stayne kept himself comfortable on the Throne itself, sleeping in it whenever needed. It was not needed often.
Already, the castle was showing signs of age. Stayne had never seen the castle so covered in filth. Its daily sweepings by servants had ended many moons ago. Now, each footstep was so clear that one could even identify the owner by it. Windows had been cracked or completely shattered by harsh storms. Vandalism was evident in almost every room on the main floor. The Whites had evidently all held a desire to speak out against the Blood Big Head, but refrained from doing so until after the Red Queen's death. A true mark of cowardice.
The area most affected by defacement was the dungeons. By far.
Unlike the other rooms, which foul and crude words had been etched into the walls of, the dungeons had been turned into a place for the hopeless to turn to when in need of strength. Stayne found it amusing. The first writings he'd noticed as he poked his head through the door were the blue splotches near the back.
"LONG LIVE THE WHITE QUEEN"
"THE CHAMPION WILL CONTINUE TO PROTECT US ALL"
"ALICE WILL FOREVER BE WITH US"
"THE RED QUEEN'S HEAD HAS ROLLED"
"NONE SHOULD FAIL TO REMEMBER HAMISH ASCOT"
"DOWNAL WYTH BLUDDY BEHG HID!"
Stayne decided to keep the door to the dungeons locked.
Stayne took advantage of the fact that the Throne Room was the largest room in the castle nearest to the entrance. All discussions were held behind its door. At the beginning, when they'd first arrived at their temporary quarters, Stayne was seriously considering running off and away from his so-called army again. All was chaos. These creatures' morals were based on fury, anarchy, disagreement, and selfishness. Not a decision could be made. Stayne wondered how they would've even found their source of food if it weren't for the castle's underground pantries.
As time escalated, however, Stayne grew to learn the beasts' ways. He knew how to train them. He taught them to strategize, even when the intelligence levels he had to deal with nearly had him on his knees, begging for them to shut up. He recognized their thirst for war and their stubbornness to cross lines most would draw. The creatures, just like foolish children, had to be right and get things their way. So, Stayne concocted his own strategy. He would demonstrate and explain a plan of his during discussion, leaving out the last details or the last step of the plan.
He would then fake a sort of confusion, as if he'd never realized he'd need an end to each scheme. This would cause the troops to erupt at him. He would feign reluctance to each suggestion spouted at him until his own idea was finally blurted from one of their slobbering mouths. Then, they would act.
And now the plan was ready.
Yes, they'd warned the creatures of Underland with small fires and destruction that a battle was emerging, but this was the plan. It was no ordinary scheme. It was the end to organized rule in Underland.
Stayne's extensive shadow was thrown onto the floor from the moonlight that streamed in from the glassless windows. The cold, brisk winds were dramatically treacherous tonight, but Stayne did not shiver when they struck his skin. He embraced that chill and put its sharpness to the mind. It aided him all the more to focus with.
An oil lamp created an orange glow around where he stood. His leather-gloved hands held the curled edges of the map down. He'd been studying the layout and entrances of the White Castle for days, sharing it with his troops. A scout of his had retrieved it several days back when all were distracted. Stayne found the Queen's lack of security highly amusing. Nearly half of the balcony doors were kept locked only by chains.
Mid-chuckle, Stayne felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand erect. His laughter cut off abruptly as his eye narrowed to a slit. Slowly, he glanced up. He seemed to be alone. But what then had caused his disturbance?
Stayne's head whirled to his left, his blind side. A vase or something had shattered on the ground. Stayne immediately unsheathed his sword and stepped away from the desk, getting into fighting position. The first step to engaging in fighting, of course, would be to find your opponent.
"Watch your foot there now, careful."
Stayne swung his blade around, slicing through thin air. He heard the voice chuckle on his other side now and, after taking the time to identify the voice, sneered. He slowly lowered his sword so that its point rested on the ground. He knew the blade would do him no use now.
"The Cheshire Cat," Stayne announced to the invisible feline. "I must say, this is a rather brave thing for you to do, considering." His voice was slick, oily. "Sent on orders, I suppose?"
The Cheshire Cat's eyes and grin appeared before Stayne's face. "On the contrary, dear lad," the mouth purred. "By a change of heart." Slowly, the rest of the cat's form emerged from the surrounding dust-filled air. The cat winked one, large eye at him.
Stayne grimaced at him. "Of heart? My apologies," he said with a sinister grin, "couldn't relate."
"Of course you couldn't." Chessur vanished only to reappear on the Knave's right. Stayne's nostrils flared with frustration. "Don't you find it hard to see through a heart that bleeds red?"
"Oh, is it difficult?" Stayne asked sardonically. "Tell me, cat, what do you know of the feeling?" He casually pointed his sword in his direction.
Cheshire glanced at the blade; it had caught the moonlight's glimmer. He gulped and said quietly, still gazing at the sword, "My heart's done bleeding." Chessur's head spun once, as if to clear it, before settling in a different spot near the bottom of the steps leading up to where Stayne stood, by the Throne. "Still hiding out in the same, old castle, Knave? Hm. I would've thought you smarter than her," he purred.
"Not hiding, foolish cat. Merely waiting. Plotting. Preparing." He grinned.
"Oh, but what to prepare for? You seem to have made yourself rather comfortable here," Chessur replied, floating about the bottom of the stairs.
Stayne raised a brow. "You're not going to try that on me, are you?"
Chessur feigned innocence. "Try what?"
Stayne frowned at Chessur as if he were something more revolting than the creatures he coerced with every day. "You'll get no information from me, little pest." Stayne lifted his sword to the air, slowly taking step by step down the stairs towards the cat. Chessur's ears folded in against his head with fear. "I'm no Otherworlder, nor am I the thirsty tyrant you think me to be." He reached the bottom of the steps, face-to-face with Chessur. "I am not a fool. I am not a power-hungry beast. I don't desire that, nor have I ever. I'm just the type of man who likes to see how much he can get away with before his heart stops beating. I'm curious to see just how far I can go."
Chessur pondered this as he scrounged up any courage he had left. "So, in other words, you are the man who never discovered what to do with the life given to him." He held his head higher. "Well, my dear man, way to waste it."
Stayne sneered. "Time enjoyed is not wasted time."
"And as for your heart," Chessur continued as if Stayne hadn't spoken, "If you don't be too careful, lad, it'll stop beating before you're ready for it."
Stayne laughed loudly. "Will you be scratching it out with your little claws, then?"
Chessur grinned widely. "Me? No, of course not. That'll be Alice with the Vorpal Sword."
Stayne's laughter died off and soon turned into a growl. "Why, you little-" Stayne heaved his sword up to slice the cat in half, but by the time it reached where he had been hovering, Chessur was gone and halfway across the room. "Coward," Stayne hissed.
"Oh, but I'm not the one hiding out in some other power's castle!" Chessur goaded. He was quite enjoying himself now. "What, couldn't find your own?"
"The White Queen's will do nicely!" Stayne ran full-on at the aberration. He yelled with both hands on his blade, which sliced through the air directly over his head. "I will gladly gut you!"
A smug voice near his ear whispered, "That sounds messy," and then laughed.
Stayne slashed at thin air, screaming with fury. "Use those claws of yours and fight me!" He was panting now, wondering why no one had come at the sound of the Knave's screams.
A quick slash to the cheek caused Stayne to cup his wound with his free hand. "Damn you!" he growled.
Chessur appeared right in front of him, a mockingly sympathetic frown on his face. "Well, you did ask for it. Quite literally."
Slowly, Stayne's burning eye looked up to meet Chessur's laughing ones. Stayne tightened his grasp on his sword, his knuckles turning white. He began to breathe more heavily. "I. Will. Burn. You. Alive."
Chessur tisked him. "My, my," he sighed. "Someone does look angry."
Stayne bellowed and swung his sword with all his might, missing once again. The Cheshire Cat materialized near the Throne Room's door. Stayne launched himself after him, cheek bleeding freely. He charged at him, getting nearer and nearer, but just as he reached him, the cat would reappear farther away. Growing more and more furious, Stayne chased after him through the castle.
Through the haze of red that had taken up space on the sides of his vision, Stayne could see several of his troops staring curiously at the spectacle. A few would try to swing at the cat, but that only made the feline laugh harder.
Stayne noticed that the closer to the door the cat got, the shorter their distance would be when the cat disappeared. Stayne grinned maliciously. He wanted that cat's head.
Finally, they reached the entry way to the castle. By the time Stayne arrived in the stormy darkness, panting and gasping for air, his eyes had turned red. He looked all around for the blasted cat, but could not find him in the blackness. As he searched, he spotted a couple nomad troops sticking their heads through the doorway. He ignored them.
"Well, don't you look comical."
Stayne roared and found the cat with his head on his hands and tail whipping lazily through the air. He'd perched himself on top of the archway. Completely out of Stayne's reach.
"Cowardly cat!" Stayne yelled. "You'll never be ready for the battle coming your way!"
"What way? That way?" His tail pointed left. "This way?" His tail pointed right.
Stayne groaned loudly. His fury had reached its peak. "You!" He pointed to his troops, completely startling them. They looked at one another, gazes searching and confused. "Yes, both of you! Go round up the troops." His eyes locked on the cat's wary ones now. "All of them. We're going to fight. Right now."
"But, sir-"
"Right NOW! We're going to march to the White Queen's castle and kill each and every one of her subjects who gets in our way. And then, when we arrive," his grin slowly grew, "We will kill more. I, personally, will slice the throats of both the Champion and the Queen." His eyes met the cat's wide ones again. "And if I see the Mad Hatter, I'll make sure to get his, too."
The cat disappeared with a faint 'pop.'
. . . . .
Insanity: DUN DUN DUNNNN! Wow. Ilosovic sure has a tempter to him.
Rachel: I'd say. I would also say to please leave us with a Review! It lets us know that you're waiting for more. And we sure do love a multitude of opinions!
Insanity: Thank you, please come again.