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The dark skies were beginning to crack open with the faint rays of the first light when his eyes flutter open, his bedroom ceiling coming into view as a mural of hazy reds. Encased under the comfort of his duvet with his limbs still unmoving, he blinks the sleep from his eyes once, twice, thrice; until finally the ceiling comes into a proper focus.
A few more seconds later when a languid fog had also cleared itself from his mind, the first thing he muses about is why the bed - his bed - felt warmer than usual. (The question of why he decided to sleep naked last night also came through in passing, but that wasn’t really much of a problem.)
So he wills his body to shift position, to lay not flat on his back but to lie on his right side. He closes his eyes as he does so, a low grunt escaping his lips as the movement causes a slow flare of exhaustion to spread through his body. Stranger and stranger, he frowns. What on earth happened last night that he would be so -
Ah.
His eyes flicker open the same time his thoughts click themselves together, the answers to his questions suddenly rushing through his mind; jigsaw pieces pulled apart but then syncing to form a clear picture of events.
And now, the sheer proximity between him and his companion has his breath catching in his throat and his senses bursting with sudden activity.
A disheveled mass of caramel and honey - blooming, curling, weaving - going around and about all directions it could extend, captures his vision and begs for his attention. But in the midst of the glossy sea that flowed down her neck and shoulders like a makeshift shawl, despite the strands that shield parts of her face from his eyes and the long locks with their tips that seem to reach out to him; his gaze is drawn to the spots of bare skin that her hair and duvet could not conceal: a peek of soft knuckles curled into loose fists under her narrow chin, unblemished cheeks dusted a faint pink, slightly parted lips softly swollen.
(He briefly wonders if he successfully broke those lips.
or her.)
His gaze lingers on Alice perhaps far too long - slumber seemed to soften her features and made her appear demure, far from the determined woman who would pester him to no end with her curiosity and concern. There’s a wash of relief that spreads in his ears as he is spared from her incessant prattling, but strange jitters within him when he doesn’t hear the vibrant melody of her voice and when he is unable to see the bright sparkle ever present in her open eyes.
He chuckles wryly, the air stuck in his throat released with ease.
When he breathes in, the air carries the smell of her - perhaps she had been a confectioner for so long that in the process of mastering her craft, her countless days of toiling in the kitchen eventually bore fruit to her undeniable skill and her delicate scent: she always smelled sweet; as if the aromas of baked goods and butter, sugar and honey, then chocolate and cream had stirred themselves together to weave a heady mist - light as a passing breeze yet surprisingly distinct, lingering about her very being and branding itself onto her skin as if it was her special perfume: subtly drawing others in with wafts of delectable sweetness, but never meaning to cloy those who would draw closer.
Her scent did not betray her taste as well.
She was definitely not cloying, and last night he had learned that far too well for his liking: his lips, mouth and tongue had trailed over the expanse of her bare skin repeatedly, almost desperately through every inch of her he could expose until they had fell to exhaustion - yet the taste of her would only linger, cruelly so: it was only a sliver of taste that remained on the surface, not enough to satiate his hunger for her nor was it enough to brand her flavor on his tongue.
Perhaps this was punishment: he had kept her at an arm's length as long as he could but now that she had finally reached out to him, now that he succumbed to his desire of her warmth, of her very being and company... time had decided that it has seen enough.
The hourglass in his desk felt the same as well, its top end finally empty.
Her name - her real name - passes through his lips like a whisper of a spell before he moves forward to claim her lips for the last time: the kiss is feather light and as brief as he can muster, his lips barely touching the skin and warmth of her very own; and when he pulls away something resembling a sigh escapes him.
She doesn't hear it, for she's too deep in sleep to feel that a hand of his drew over her closed eyes; pads of rough fingers applying a light pressure on her skin.
For seconds, he hears the steady sound of her breathing. He feels her warmth creeping into his own skin, enticing like the sight of her parted lips. He breathes in again; and all he can breathe in is the sweet mist of a woman who begged him not to go, not to die, but to live and stay by her side; like she had done for him in a span of thirty days.
Alas, if only he could.
If only thirty days could dissolve five hundred years of duty.
(He starts casting.)
He leaves his bed as soon as the light of his magic had faded completely - he proceeds to dress himself and then gather Alice's clothing, setting her dress by the foot of the bed and her shoes on the floor directly under it. Lastly, he takes his cape and his sword from where he had hung it last night: as he attached the former to his uniform and strapped the latter to his belt to hang at his side, he was now completing his ensemble as the King of Hearts, the man all of Cradle knew as a beautiful beast.
All, save for one. His eyes drift back to the bed behind him once more, to the one person who ever wanted to be with him.
He had cast his spell on her and it could not be reversed.
When dawn’s rays would fully break through the sky and would stream through the windows, she would wake and forget.
Then when the sky turns dark once more, the moon would rise over the gardens and she would return - she would go back to the land where she truly lived, a land far away and a mystery to him like how she saw his own, but that was the land where she would surely find true happiness.
Because that was where she belonged: a land where she would be out his reach - permanently.
With quiet strides, he makes his way to his door - it opens without a single creak and when he steps outside and closes the door behind him, he begins to walk down the empty corridor, his cape fluttering behind him.
The taste of sugar tingles the surface of his tongue and a fleeting warmth still dances teasingly on his lips, but he doesn’t look back.