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There was something freeing about Wonderland, it was the one place Alice knew she could be herself without fear of reproach from anyone. She could spend hours on end imagining fanciful things, go off on an adventure or two and simply just be who she knew she was instead of trying to be what everyone wanted her to be.
Life in England had slowly become nothing more than a never ending barrage of complaints, reprimands and instructions on how she should act. Even as a little girl she’d been told how she should behave, as it was highly unbecoming to be telling such tales of fancy.
As she grew, not only was she told more and more to stop with the tales, but next was extended family instructing her on how to dress, how to speak and even how to carry herself. The last one always confused her, what difference did it make how she walked? So long as she got from one point to the other without falling over or slamming into some inanimate object, or person, she thought she was doing quite well.
She hated her life in England; all she ever thought about was running off to Wonderland. Of course she knew she couldn’t do that as she pleased, people whispered about her strange habit of vanishing and it did distress her father. He didn’t seem to care much for her, that she could tell, but she did love him. The last thing Alice wanted to do with her constant trips to Wonderland was to upset him, but why couldn’t he understand she needed a break from all the melancholy in their home?
He was sad, constantly. For as long as she could remember he was always in one depressed state or another. When he spoke to her it was simply to tell her what to do. Pick up her toys, put the books she’d left lying about away, don’t leave her shoes strewn in the front hall and so forth. There was never an ‘I love you Alice’, or ‘Come sit with me Alice and tell me about your day’ for her, just commands to pick up after herself or to make herself scarce when he was feeling particularly disheartened, which she always noticed happened to be around her birthday.
That was the one occasion she thought should be one to celebrate, and she wondered why she never had fun little parties like some of the other children she knew. They had cake and gifts, and played silly games on their birthday. If she was lucky she might get some sweet or other, and if her father was not in yet another sorrow filled daze she might even receive a gift from him, but she never did get to have a party with any of her little friends.
Her grandmother finally told her, with very little kindness in her voice, that the reason no one celebrated the day of her birth was because it was also the day her mother passed away. Alice had known her mother had passed away when she was little, but she hadn’t realized she’d died in child birth, or shortly after. It then occurred to her, despite her young age, that her father blamed her for her mother’s death, and so did the rest of the family.
After that she tried everything to please them. She learned to play piano like her mother and she even discovered what sorts of books she had enjoyed, and memorized passages from them to recite just to show her family that she could be just like her late mother. That she could be a suitable replacement.
It never did work out for her, as they would just brush her off and tell her to go to her room to pick up her toys. No matter how hard she tried, she just could not please anyone, and that was when she decided to start finding proof Wonderland existed.
That had backfired on her as well; as she grew older the reprimands were even more frequent every time she arrived home from another one of her adventures. Sometimes she’d even return with an item she was certain would prove she was not lying, but the painted red rose had been tossed before she could show that it had originally been white. It wasn’t her fault it had become slightly crushed during her escape from the Queen of Hearts.
The woman did have a habit of taking the heads off anyone she found stealing, rather than asking questions after all. And Alice was fairly certain losing her head might be slightly detrimental to her goal.
Another time she’d come home with something that had gotten a friend into a bit of hot water. She truly thought one of the Queen’s highly prized tarts would prove to her father that Wonderland did exist, as she’d stolen one or two before and never tasted anything like them in England. Of course she later discovered her friend the Knave had taken the downfall for that one, but had managed to talk his way out of it. She was sorry to get him into trouble, but she really needed to prove she wasn’t crazy.
Just like the painted rose, that one didn’t work either. Before her father returned home from town her aunt, who happened to be visiting, ate it. Alice had been furious, even more so when her aunt proclaimed it was the most vile tasting thing she’d ever eaten.
That had ended with Alice informing her aunt she was a miserable woman that didn’t know anything and had awful taste in everything, from food, clothing to a choice in husband. And, like always, that ended with Alice being told to go to her room.
Only that time she took a quick turn on her way to the stairs and dashed outside to find her way back to Wonderland. This time she would find proof that couldn’t be tossed aside or be consumed. This time, she’d get solid proof.
Her intention was to grab the White Rabbit, but instead she found a genie. Even though she’d already caught the rabbit, she let him go. She wasn’t sure at first what good a genie would do her, but she felt a connection to him shortly after their sudden meeting. There was something about him, his calm and the way he spoke that drew her to him.
At first she thought maybe they’d have an adventure or two, and then she’d have him go back to his bottle so she could take him to England with her. Surely her father, and the rest of the extended family, could not argue with her when she summoned someone out of a bottle. If they could deny that then they really needed to seek help at an asylum, so far as she was concerned.
And of course, she’d have a friend. She was sorely lacking those back home and she rather liked him. So long as she avoided using her wishes he’d always be with her, and that was a concept she was more than open to.
That plan ended the second he explained his life to her; people commanded him to their will and that was his sole purpose. When he told her that, it saddened her, at least she could do as she pleased, and even if someone told her what to do she had the free will to disobey. He really had no choice, what he was commanded to do he actually had to do without question, within the laws of magic of course. His will belonged to whoever found him, and she instantly dropped the idea of taking him back to England as proof.
Alice promised herself as they walked through the maze of hedges that she wouldn’t use any of her wishes, so that Cyrus could have some form of freedom. She’d found freedom in Wonderland, a chance to be herself and not be told by everyone around her what to be and what to do, he deserved that chance as well.
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He wasn’t certain about this. Making choices for himself was still a rather foreign concept to him, but if this was what Alice wanted he would go along with it. She was his mistress, and he desired to see her happy. It was in his very nature after all, being a genie.
Cyrus had to warn her again what she was getting herself in for if she wanted to spend her life with him; there would always be someone coming to take him from her. That was part of the reason when they’d decided on a place to bury the bottle he agreed to a spot with a landmark easy to remember; should push come to shove and the bottle had to be retrieved it would be simple to recall where it was.
It had been his idea to bury his bottle, but he was beginning to second guess that choice. As much as he was loathed to think about it, he’d not been without it before. He did consider it a prison but it still was something that belonged to him and he had so little that was his. Alice may not see the way their relationship was to work, but his will belonged to her. It wasn’t his.
In a way, Cyrus mused, everything belonged to someone else. His life didn’t even feel as if it was his own, he was never sure where he would end up next, and who would come into possession of his bottle and therefore have the right to command him. His magic wasn’t truly his either; it was solely for the pleasure of whatever master he had at the time, and he always had to hope whoever it was wouldn’t be too upset over the laws of magic. It was rare to come upon someone who didn’t take it well, but he’d met a few and those were the masters he was always glad to be away from after their last wish was made.
With Alice though, he hoped she would stay true to her promise and not use her wishes. He had been honest when he said he couldn’t stand the thought of an eternity without her, and he had hoped that would prompt her to make her wishes and allow him to move on. It would have been simpler that way, instead of permitting the love he was feeling for her grow any deeper.
It was too late now, he never thought he’d ever love someone and it had shocked him when he realized what the feeling Alice stirred within him actually was. He’d observed people in love before but knew that was not meant for him. That was not meant for a genie; that was for mortals. It didn’t matter he’d once been mortal, a little fact he never intended to tell Alice. He was a genie now, and would be one for eternity.
Mortals viewed love as a blessing; to him it felt like a curse. He loved Alice, he was happy she found him and reciprocated his love for her, but in the long run he would be alone. Someday, she would leave him for wherever mortals went after their lives drew to a close and he would return to his bottle and await a new master. That was his lot in life.
But, in a way she would never die. He’d heard once that no one was ever truly gone so long as someone lived that remembered them. It was a concept that always stuck with him, being immortal. He’d met so many people and remembered all of them, all the good masters as well as the few truly awful ones. Every single one had moved on to life beyond death, and he was fairly certain his last one before Alice had met an untimely end by Jafar’s hand.
They were gone, but in a way they continued to live as he remembered them. It would be the same with Alice as well, as much as he knew it would pain him to think back on the freedom he had with her when she became nothing more than a memory to keep him company in his bottle.
His thoughts were broken by the sound of Alice’s voice, evidently she took his silence to mean he was second guessing their relationship and promise to not move on from each other. That was far from the truth, he would never move on from her even after she passed away. No matter where he ended up, he would always remember her and would love her until the end of time itself.
Alice smiled and handed Cyrus his bottle, wanting him to be the one to place it in the hole they’d dug. She knew he still had a difficult time making decisions for himself, most of the time she was making choices for both of them, but she’d noticed he was getting a bit more assertive. This was one thing she wanted him to do though, if he didn’t place his bottle in the ground then it would be more than obvious to her that he wasn’t ready to make such a commitment to her.
She hoped he would do as they had discussed, and do it for himself and not just to make her happy. The last few months had been the most freeing for her, and not just because she was in Wonderland and no one was telling her what to do and not to do. She’d always had that when she was in Wonderland, other than the odd person yelling at her as she dashed away, no one talked to her like they did back in England. But that wasn’t it.
She’d finally found someone who saw her for who she was, she’d found love and she had hoped with all her heart and soul that he would return it. She knew he loved her, she’d thought he’d been smitten with her on their first meeting but she also realized he’d spent lifetimes being told what to do and never making a decision for himself. This was going to be difficult for him, and she wanted him to not do this solely because he knew it would make her happy, giving no thought to his own happiness.
Right when she thought he was going to hand his bottle back to her, he smiled and moved towards the hole they’d dug. Once he’d dropped it, she knelt down beside him and smiled warmly back at him and went about helping him fill the hole back in.
As they walked away, hand in hand, she couldn’t help her joy. She’d finally found everything she’d lacked in England; a place to belong and someone to love who loved her back.
Wonderland had given her everything she had ever wanted and freed her from a suffocating existence back home, she just hoped the same would happen for Cyrus, after spending centuries trapped in a bottle.