Wonderland trembled.
It began as a whisper—a shift in the air, a wrongness that crept through the cracks of reality like ink spilling through paper. The colors of the land dulled, the ever-vibrant sky fading into a sickly shade of gray. The flowers, once singing merrily, wilted mid-song, their voices strangled into silence.
And then, the first shatter.
A tower in the Queen of Hearts' kingdom cracked from its foundation, splitting straight down the middle before collapsing in a thunderous roar. The streets were filled with startled cries as playing card soldiers scrambled to make sense of the chaos.
But the disaster did not stop there.
A lone card guard, his face drained of color, hurried through the halls, his footsteps echoing with urgency. He held an ornate, heart-shaped envelope tightly in his hands, his body trembling as he approached the throne room. His breath was ragged as he knelt before the queens, the weight of the news he carried pressing down on him like an unspoken curse.
"Your Majesties," the guard began, his voice shaky. "I bring... grave news. An undead army... an army like nothing we've ever seen, is marching toward us."
The Queen of Hearts, never one for subtlety, sat upright immediately, her hands clenched around the armrests of her throne. Her lips twisted into a wicked smile as she leaned forward. "Undead, you say?" she purred, her voice dripping with disdain. "And just how many of these… things, are we dealing with?"
The card guard hesitated, fear written across his face. "There are too many to count, Your Majesty. They're coming in like a great flood devouring everything in their path!"
The Queen of Hearts' gaze sharpened, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "And who is leading this pathetic excuse for an army?" Her voice cut through the tension in the room.
The card guard hesitated, his fear palpable as he struggled to form words. His voice quivered as he knelt before the two queens. "I-I... I don't know, Your Majesties. I-I couldn't tell. They're... they're just—"
Before the soldier could finish, the Queen of Hearts' gaze turned sharp, her impatience evident. "Who is leading this army?" she demanded, her voice like a whip crack.
The soldier flinched, his hands shaking, unable to speak. He opened his mouth again, but his voice failed him entirely. Trembling, he looked to the floor, unable to provide an answer, his fear of the unknown rising with every second.
Suddenly, from the shadows, a soft chuckle broke the tension. The air shifted, and the Cheshire Cat materialized before them, his mischievous grin the only thing visible at first as his form coalesced from the swirling mist. He stretched lazily, his tail flicking to the side as his violet eyes gleamed.
"Ah, such fear in the air," the Cheshire Cat purred, his voice dripping with amusement. "It seems you're a little in over your head, my dear Queen."
The Queen of Hearts shot up from her throne, her face twisted in fury. "How dare you mock me at a time like this?! Guards! Off with his head!"
The card soldiers sprang into motion, their weapons drawn as they closed in on the lounging feline. But the Cheshire Cat merely chuckled, his body already beginning to fade into wisps of mist before a single blade could reach him.
"My dear Queen," he purred, his voice now slithering through the air from all directions. "Always so quick to anger… so quick to give orders… and yet, so very slow to see the real threat."
Before the Queen could snap back, the White Queen stepped forward, raising a hand to halt the guards. Her voice was calm but firm. "Sister, let's not be so hasty." She turned to the fading shape of the Cheshire Cat, her cool gaze unshaken. "You would not have come here unless you had something important to say. So speak, and spare us the riddles."
The Cheshire Cat's grin widened, and his body rematerialized—this time, draped lazily over the Queen of Hearts' throne as if it were his own. He flicked his tail idly, stretching out like a satisfied predator.
"Gorlois," he drawled, his violet eyes gleaming, "That's the name of the one leading the undead army."
The guard, who had been unable to speak, now looked visibly relieved that someone had filled in the blank, but his trembling continued as his gaze darted nervously between the two queens.
The White Queen on the other hand, stiffened, her usual serene expression darkening. The Queen of Hearts flinched, but only slightly—just enough for the Cheshire Cat to notice. A flicker of recognition crossed her face, a memory long buried clawing its way to the surface.
"Gorlois," she echoed, her voice quieter now. It was not often that she felt unease, but that name—that name—had weight.
The Queen of Hearts clenched her fists, shaking off the moment of hesitation. Her fiery nature would not allow her to look shaken, even if she felt it. She turned back to the Cheshire Cat, her glare fierce. "And what is it you want, Cat? You wouldn't be here just to deliver bad news."
The Cheshire Cat's grin flickered ever so slightly, a glimmer of something unreadable in his gaze. Then, with a stretch and a lazy roll onto his back, he hummed, "Oh, my dear Queen… you do know me so well."
He disappeared once more—only to reappear atop the Queen's table, absently swiping at a silver goblet with his paw. "I'm here because I rather like Wonderland the way it is, you see. And I don't particularly fancy a world where Gorlois sits upon its throne."
His smile sharpened. "So, I thought I'd lend my expertise… and suggest you start gathering allies before it's too late."
The White Queen glanced at her sister, her expression unreadable. The Queen of Hearts remained silent for a moment, staring at the grinning cat before exhaling sharply.
"…Then tell me, who do we call upon?"
The Cheshire Cat's grin widened, and he leaned in, tail flicking with amusement. "Now that is the right question." He vanished in an instant, reappearing beside the Queen of Hearts, lounging across the armrest of her throne as if he belonged there. "You already know the answer, dear Queen."
The Queen of Hearts scowled, gripping the arms of her throne tightly. "Do not play games with me, Cat."
The White Queen, however, had already caught on. She inhaled softly, closing her eyes for the briefest moment. "You're talking about Alice's friends," she murmured. "The ones who seek to bring her back."
The Queen of Hearts scoffed, turning away in frustration. "Hah! And what good will they do? A scattered group of misfits clinging to the hope that Alice might return? It's ridiculous."
The Cheshire Cat merely chuckled, floating lazily in the air now, his form rotating upside-down as he peered at her with glowing violet eyes. "Ridiculous? Perhaps." His grin sharpened. "But necessary. You do know as much as I do that their dream isn't really that far fetched. There will be a way to revive Alice. And once that happens, then we all have our champion against Gorlois."
The White Queen nodded, her gaze distant yet thoughtful. "Alice is the one who has always stood against chaos in Wonderland. The cat is right. She might be our only chance right now."
The Queen of Hearts' lips pressed into a thin line. Her pride screamed against it—against needing help, against relying on anyone other than her own forces. But deep down, she knew. Wonderland was hers to rule, and she would not let some long-dead tyrant take it from her.
She exhaled sharply, then snapped her fingers. "Fine." The room tensed. "Send out scouts. I want reports on the Mad Hatters' little squad,' Find out where they are and what progress they've made."
The Cheshire Cat purred in approval, vanishing and reappearing atop the grand chandelier above them. "Oh, what fun this will be." His eyes gleamed with mischief, but there was something else beneath it. Something darker.
The Queen of Hearts turned back to the Cheshire Cat, her glare unwavering. "And you… where will you be in all of this?"
The Cheshire Cat stretched, yawning before rolling onto his back. "Oh, here… there… everywhere," he mused playfully. Then, with a sudden sharpness, he added, "But always watching. For you and for him."
The Queen of Hearts frowned, but before she could respond, the cat was already gone—his laughter lingering like a ghost in the air.
Silence settled between the two queens.
But then, the heavy doors to the throne room burst open, and the hurried clatter of boots and hooves echoed through the grand chamber.
The Queen of Hearts' General strode in first, his crimson-plated armor gleaming under the torchlight. His expression was grim, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Behind him came the White Knight, his silver armor still bearing marks of old battles, his ever-solemn gaze shifting between the two queens.
Trailing in their wake, were their fellow scouts. The Walrus and the Carpenter huffed as they entered, the former adjusting his monocle while the latter clutched his hammer with nervous hands. The Flamingo glided forward in elegant strides, eyes sharp with worry, while the Mock Turtle shuffled in with a forlorn sigh. Lastly, the mighty Lion padded into the room, his mane flowing like golden waves, his piercing eyes filled with determination.
The General was the first to speak, his voice steady but edged with urgency. "Your Majesty," he addressed the Queen of Hearts, then inclined his head slightly toward the White Queen as well. "We have heard the troubling news. The dead march upon Wonderland… What are your orders?"
The Queen of Hearts slowly rose from her throne, her crimson gown billowing like a raging flame. A fire burned in her eyes, fueled not only by her infamous temper but by something deeper—resolve.
She lifted her chin, voice ringing through the chamber with absolute authority.
"We must prepare," she declared. "War is coming to Wonderland."