Disclaimer: Well, I own the ticket stub I have from seeing the movie a second time. But that's all. I don't actually own anything in, about, or from Wonderland. Except this fic – but you knew that. I own a small plastic dragon, but that's neither here nor there.
A Brief Author's Note: Who else was about to fly into a murderous rage when they saw Tarrant bound and tortured? And who among us is sick enough to admit wanting to see the deleted scene in which said torture is enacted?
6 - Fake
Alice had lived in a world of fakes since Father died. No one said what they meant, or meant what they said. Mummy kept up with fashion – the fakest of the fake! Ladies old and young plastered on phony smiles as they socially killed their friends and rivals. Gentlemen seemed to be manufactured on stamping-lines, a collection of bored expressions, coattails, and false moustaches for those who couldn't grow their own. Bluntness was looked on with scorn, if not outrage. Of course, it was still possible to be too fake – Aunt Imogen proved both case and point.
For a moment, Alice wondered: if she had not ventured into Wonderland as a child, would she have turned out that way as well? Might she have dreamed of nothing but marrying a lord? If she had married younger, as her dear sister had, could she have had a philandering husband as well? Perhaps she would have two lovely children who ran her ragged but about whom she never complained? Should she have become a twittering ninny like the twins?
" Fatboys!" the Red Queen called out, resting her feet upon a pig belly.
Remembering that at the moment, she was supposed to be "Um from Umbridge", Alice kept her face as blank as parchment as the Tweedles stumped into the great hall. It made her a little sick to her stomach, watching them fumble about for the amusement of the Red Queen, but she remained silent. When said Queen looked over at her, to be sure she possessed the same sense of amusement, she smiled. It felt repulsive, being so fake. The gathering of toadies giggled snootily, watching the Tweedles continue with their unsure antics.
"Um from Umbridge" must be good at being fake, Alice decided – and a good thing too, considering… She had heard quickly of the Red Queen's tendency for ordering beheadings at the drop of a hat. A shiver trailed down her spine and she pretended to discreetly adjust her dress. No one noticed, too busy twittering like so many English ninnies. Noise, it was – just as useless and mind-numbing as Aunt Imogen's canaries. If she looked correctly, Alice could see the face of Lady Ascot on every one and suppressed a snort of derisive laughter. If anyone detected her slight change in expression, they said nothing.
In England it had been comparatively easy to be fake. As Hamish had told her, when in doubt, she remained silent. Far easier that way, it was, to observe the outrageous fakeness of everyone else around her. Fakeness had its own language. For example, to insult someone, you had to compliment them in the sincerest manner possible. "What a lovely dress, Elizabeth!" she could remember someone exclaiming to a young lady in calico, quite proud of her new frock. They had followed with "The print is so original!" And Alice later figured they meant "That rag is the ugliest piece of refuse I have ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on."
Dismissed by the Red Queen, the Tweedles shuffled from the hall, their nonsensical babbling argument echoing through the hall and punching each other, obviously feeling betrayed. Alice watched them go, a twinge of sadness in her stomach. They were strange little beings, indeed, but they certainly did not deserve such treatment! The exaggerated expressions on the bizarre faces of the Red Queen's toadying courtiers reminded Alice of the looks she had received at parties. Covert looks, whispers behind gloved hands and folding fans – they couldn't say what they thought of her to her face.
The Knave, as Mallymkun had called him, swept in to kneel beside the Queen, informing her of something. Alice listened carefully. It was about a prisoner, and the Knave was frustrated. They needed some sort of information and this prisoner would not crack. Realized, sickened, that they were talking about her.
"Bring him!" cried the Red Queen.
Alice leaned forward in her seat a bit as everyone in the great hall turned their attention to the far double-doors. A couple of frogs dutifully opened said doors and an army of Red Cards spilled into the hall, clanking all over. So far, the whole thing had seemed like a ridiculous pantomime to Alice. First, she wound up standing growing far beyond her normal size and attempting to hide naked behind a bush. From there, she hoodwinked the cruelest person she had ever met – worse than anyone in England, she realized – and somehow wound up favored in a royal court. Beside this god-awful Queen, she sat stunned, clad in a quickly-made dress made out of drapes. It was all part of this dream of hers, growing ever more bizarre. And then her heart dropped into her gut when she saw him.
He had been tortured, she realized. Never before had she encountered a situation like this. She knew what torture amounted to socially, of course. Many times, she had seen young ladies with their faces flaming red, silent, as their peers verbally tormented them. Their hearts could be torn as easily as their flesh! The areas 'round both his eyes had been darkened from physical impact. Chains hung from his wrists and bound his ankles loosely together. Alice felt she might be violently ill. But "Um from Umbridge" did not get sick. This new person, "Um", did not have feelings.
But Alice did… She felt violent hatred for the first time in her life, wanted very much to reach out and slap the Bloody Bighead across the face. Inwardly, she smiled fiercely as the Hatter in his marvelous madness, considering things that began with the letter "M" called Her Majesty a moron and a murderer. The tormented Hatter's eyes, though bruised, gleamed with a strength she only wished she could emulate. She wished she could jump up and begin screaming these things. Instead, though, she sat idly by, her heart feeling like its chambers were slowly filling with ice.
It had never been so hard to be fake…