Work Text:
Courtly Jester was a mere five years old when her father was taken away from her. When he whispered his final words from within the chokehold of a callous Club. When the Queen of Hearts ordered a beheading and meant it, and the King of Hearts did not issue a contradicting pardon.
When suddenly, overnight, being her father’s biggest supporter was an incrimination.
“The Joker’s daughter,” followed her in disdainful whispers. “A real Wild Card.”
She needed a guardian, yet who would guard her and not against her?
She hissed at the Dormouse, clawed at the Dodo, bit the head off a bread-and-butterfly in front of the White Bishop, and stuck out her tongue at anyone who tried to come near and replace her only friend and family.
Eventually, she became a ward of The School. The sole ward of The School. Alone while surrounded by people, forgotten in a place of obscure knowledge.
But the game was hardly over, and as she hid her father’s treasured possessions in crannies as abandoned as she was, she promised herself to never back down or compromise on what she wanted.
As her father always said, don’t count your earnings until all the cards are on the table, and the double-crossing players are scared witless of you.
- - - - - - -
She was seven when she first lifted a quill and put it to paper. She wrote short, crude stories. Unwieldy, meandering ones. She even tried her hand at poetry, rhyming couplets quickly becoming a favorite of hers in all their vast simplicity.
She wrote until her nails broke, her hands cramped, her wrists ached, and her fingers were stained darkly with ink.
And when she wasn’t writing, she would read. Read the Ever After classics, the original tales. Read their history books that painted pictures of the lives of a nation’s worth of Undestined people. Read generations of retellings, noting all the little tugs and tweaks and subtle changes and evolutions within the stories.
And when Ever After wasn’t far away enough, she’d read the forbidden books she’d squirreled away from shadowy corners into uncanny nooks. Read about distant lands of steam and smoke and clockwork gears, of pendulums and ravens and writing desks, of dreams and autonomy and plum pie.
And when that vast distance hurt too much, she would read her own slowly improving works, painstakingly editing them, improving them, revising them. There was a danger in erasing and restarting, as the diary of C.D. liked to remind her with its nervous rambles about Milton Grimm, so as she soaked in the feeling of control from rewriting her tales, she swore to never let her guard down around the Editor (because he wasn’t an Author. Not really) (And even if he was, he wasn’t Wonderland’s).
She tired and she slept and she wished and she ran, and she always, always, remembered to play her cards close to her chest.
- - - - - - -
She was nine when her homeland was poisoned. She was there when dark magic distorted the Wonder of her homeland, riddles became gibberish, and madness turned to frenzy. She watched as the lowlands were consumed by the curse’s heavy hanging cloud, as valleys and canyons were lost to a thick miasma of venomous green.
The School, perched on its hilltop, avoided the worst of the effects in the initial days, and eventually the unfinished spell sunk downwards, leaving The School a beacon of safety for all children of a relevant age. Courtly quickly found herself surrounded by even more students, and the feeling of ostracization increased accordingly. To balance out the overflowing classes, there was a rush of hiring, allowing adults to enter the school as well, albeit as staff members with duties and responsibilities.
The Principal resigned, overwhelmed by the increase in The School’s population, and Courtly watched with sharp eyes as a smarmy Spade manipulated their way to the top.
Even the worst situations, it seemed, could be turned to one’s advantage.
- - - - - - -
She was eleven the day the Red Queen arrived, bloodsoaked and trembling, gripping a young boy against her chest as she garbled her agreement and signed a seventeen-half-years contract in order to be granted entry to The School.
Courtly didn’t care for her peers, certainly, but even less did she approve of guardians. And the boy was adopted.
A ward.
His name was Chase Redford. He was a novelty outsider, and a friendly one at that, quickly charming all of the students around his age, but he resented them.
They weren’t his . Not his Lost Boys.
He liked order, an oddity in Wonderland, but his idea of order was just nonsensical enough that he was accepted by Courtly with open arms. Spending formative years in Neverland, and a few more trapped in Wonderland, made it so that his view of the world was skewed on its axis, and befriending a Wild Card was right up his alley.
And for the second time in Courtly’s life, someone was hers, and though she’d never admit it, she was his.
He wasn’t naturally athletic, but he was determined, and he was trained by the best his foster mother could provide. He wasn’t particularly studious, but he was a hard worker, and through grit and determination achieved academic competence. He was fond of red velvet cake and the scent of iron, listened almost exclusively to pop, and was a morning person, of all things.
Courtly reveled in the opportunity to play the part of the bad influence others were always warned she’d be, and what others saw as her taking advantage of the Lost Boy’s lack of familiarity with their world’s hierarchy was really two schemers playing “White Kitten, Black Kitten”.
They smuggled tarot cards and decks containing jokers to other students under the faculty’s nose, which had been enchanted to sniff out the banned magic of Wild Wonder, giggling all the while. He distracted the kitchen staff while she mislabeled all their cans, and she cackled at the truly noxious concoctions that resulted.
Not that the majority of the mad populace cared, but a thrill rushed through her nevertheless at the bungled recipes.
At times he was the voice of reason, much to her disapproval, like when he refused to search out the epitome of Wild Wonder - the Jabberwocky.
But she forgave his transgressions.
And forgiving led to forgetting. She forgot the curled lips of the Spade principal, forgot the cruelty of children and the differing cruelty of adults, forgot the White Rabbit’s violent spasms of fear, forgot the words of her father as he was dragged away.
And as idle mischief filled her tulgey nights and beamish days, even her quill was forgotten.
- - - - - - -
She was thirteen when reality sledgehammered her in the face. When her one friend prioritized duty over her. When Chase pledged loyalty to the Red Pieces, was knighted, and became a member of the Student Council.
She should’ve seen the betrayal coming.
She should have known when Chase refused to take part in more and more shenanigans. She should have known when he had the audacity to call it “growing up”. She should have known when she watched him punch anyone who used the moniker Lost Boy, when she heard him call the Red Queen “mother”, when he left Neverland behind.
But she had kept herself willfully ignorant, all the way up until his new idea of order clashed with her Wildness and he ratted her out to the faculty as though he’d never broken a rule in his entire life.
Rules.
Disgusting, slimy things.
Rules only meant something when society collectively agreed to follow them. They were inherently meaningless. They were more powerful than anything else. They only had as much value as was assigned to them.
They took Courtly’s only companion from her.
Twice.
She would make those crawling, creeping rules bow to her. She would never bend to them, not even when the Red Knight, her former friend, had the sheer gall to shed tears over it. She refused to change alongside him, and she knew he was a lost cause when he asked her why, as though it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.
But she thanked him in the end, because he’d shown her the truth.
To others, she was never going to be more than a card to play, a person to be used and discarded.
But a joker, a pawn, could become anything.
A queen, perhaps, some would say.
But as she scrounged through her trunk until she found an old, bent quill, dull-edged and dusty, Courtly thought she had a better, more original idea.
- - - - - - -
Courtly Jester, age fifteen, leaned back at her desk, filled with satisfaction. It had been months since her successful coup, but joy still spontaneously appeared in bursts of randomosity to lift the Vice-Principal’s spirits. Chuckling, she raised her glass teacup of spanish coffee to her lips, sipping her cocktail with smug superiority.
A tentative knock disrupted her peaceful morning, and she plastered her cruelest smile onto her face.
“Enter,” she called out.
Her Attendance Officer clanked in, helmet under one arm, Alistair Wonderland restrained in the other.
“Ah, the rabbit chaser,” Courtly drawled. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I am so much more than Alice’s son,” Alistair bit out.
“Well I was referring to a specific Bunny,” Courtly smirked. “But dear, whatever gave you the idea that you could escape your mother’s shadow? That’s not how things work here.”
“This isn’t Ever After,” he snarled. “And there’s no Author with us anymore.”
It tickled her pink to think that Alistair, so close to the truth, would never completely grasp its full extent.
“That’s just temporary, darling,” Courtly said. “Sooner or later Grimm will break out the ol’ quill and wash his hands of us.”
“We’re still linked to Ever After,” Alistair gulped, “right?”
“For now, hun,” Courtly gently raised his chin. “But Grimm hasn’t seen fit to fix his own people’s mess here, so it’s only a matter of time until he decides we’re more than worth less to him. We’re not worth anything at all. Not anymore.”
“He needs us!” Alistair said, panicked. “He needs Wonder! He’ll dry up without plagiarization!”
“Yet his ink still flows,” Courtly shook her head, savoring the taste of the lie. “You and your conspiracy theories! He’s the Author! And I for one, cannot wait for the day he cuts his losses, along with any tie our realm has to others.”
“What are you planning?” Alistair demanded.
“Cheeky boy,” Courtly said, patting his cheek. “That would be telling. Chase, darling?”
“Yes?”
“Throw him in detention. Let him stew with his defiance, for, hmm, give or take a week?”
“You haven’t even heard what his crime was,” Chase said.
“Very well, set up the trial,” Courtly waved him off. “My rules rule, and I did rule that all transgressions get a proper trial in the spirit of fairness. See what I do for this place? Where would you all be without me.”
She covered Alistair’s mouth before he could retort.
“Yes, Courtly-”
She cleared her throat.
“-um, Vice-Principal, ma’am,” Chase bobbed his head in a weak impression of a nod.
“Go on then,” she flapped a shooing hand. “Do your precious duty!”
He saluted her.
“And never forget,” she called out mockingly in his wake. “Rules are rules!”
- - - - - - -
The Queen of Hearts deserved to have her tarts stolen, in Courtly’s humble opinion.
Interfering old biddy.
The Cards had no jurisdiction over The School, yet the royal court of Wonderland fixated on Courtly’s promotion like jubjub birds on weaker prey.
She was not weak.
And they would soon see who the real predator had been all along.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Courtly gleefully told the Club ambassador, relishing the way his card soldiers winced at the implication of the impossible. “You see, my authority here is absolute, and per Wonderlandian law, any personnel not learning or teaching is only to enter with the explicit permission of the Principal. Which is me!”
“But-”
“Ta, boys!”
She gestured, and The School’s gates slammed shut in front of their faces, narrowly missing the Club’s protruding nose.
Chase put his helmet on, looking warily at the battalion outside of the place he was sworn to protect.
“You’re toeing the line with the Queen of Hearts,” the Red Knight said.
“Oh, Chase,” Courtly smiled thinly. “I intend to do so much more than that.”
And she skipped away, leaving him to figure out the new security measures.
- - - - - - -
Courtly was gambling her salary with the older students, when she felt it.
That shift in the air.
Similar to the day they were sealed, but on a smaller scale.
“Fold,” she said to her shocked audience, leaving her wages behind. “I have things to attend to.”
She packed provisions, nabbed her Attendance Officer, giving him no prior warning, and began to search.
For something.
Anything.
A crack in the barrier, a hole in the wall.
They braved the lowlands, and fought off bandersnatches, and rode the Red Horse for miles before pausing to rest in the shade of a tumtum grove.
But she found nothing.
After so many tiring hours and an insufficient nap, she was ready to call it quits, when a sensation not unlike the stinging vibration of a plucked string pulsated through the air.
It was yesterday’s feeling, amplified greatly, because its source, its source was so close she could almost taste it.
Dashing through the trees, a startled Chase running after her, Courtly burst into a clearing dotted with rotting mushrooms.
And there it was.
A tear between realities stood before her, hovering in the air like a gaping wound, edges pulled together by membrane and magic.
And, in the fresh damp earth, a pawprint all Wonderlandians could recognize from a very, very young age.
The Jabberwocky.
Courtly felt faint, but gathered her wits and turned to Chase.
“Looks like our childhood misadventures aren’t over yet,” she said.
He paled.
“Let’s find ourselves a Jabberwock.”
- - - - - - -
It was during a week of frantic searching, leaving Chase to run The School in her absence, that Courtly had to pay an unsavory social call.
“You summoned me, your majesty?” Courtly held her head high in front of the Court of Cards, whose members held drinks in their hands as though she was their evening entertainment.
“With great reluctance, mind you,” the Queen of Hearts' mad eyes narrowed.
All the Diamond noble families, a twisted reflection of Ever After’s Charmings, paragons of debauchery instead of heroism, raised elegant hands to their disdainful mouths and laughed daintily. One baroness spilled wine on the hem of her lilac petal gown, and was escorted out while throwing a fit.
“May I respectfully inquire as to the purpose of my visit?” Courtly barely contained her rage, hiding her trembling hands behind her back.
“Are you really that dull?” the queen asked. “It’s clearly to do with your recent, ah, advancement in the world.”
“Obviously,” Courtly gave up on the diplomatic route. “But I’m not surprised you don’t recognize good manners, as you possess none.”
“Watch your tongue, insolent girl,” the Queen of Hearts’ face reddened dramatically. “The ax that gave me the head of your father is still sharp.”
“But I have committed no crime,” Courtly said. “The School is outside your jurisdiction.”
“Yes, yes,” she rolled her eyes. “Seeing as you keep insisting on reminding us, we are well acquainted with that rule.”
“Why am I here?” Courtly said. “The School is mine. That won’t change.”
“Bitter fool,” the queen said. “Your arrogance will be your undoing.”
“Until that day comes, I’ll continue on my path,” Courtly said.
“I suppose I cannot make you see reason, so you may as well leave.”
“Reason?” Courtly spat. “ Reason ?! We are a realm of rhyme and riddles, of nonsense, not logic!”
“There is order even in chaos, a method to every madness,” the Queen of Hearts smiled mirthlessly. “That’s what the Heart’s are for. Keeping things contained, but allowing them to be free.”
“True Wilderness knows no boundaries,” Courtly gritted her teeth.
“That’s why you’re so dangerous,” the queen said. “In Wonderland, everything knows what it is, even if it does things uncharacteristic to what it would do in other Lands. Wild things forget what they are. You don’t build or expand on the pre-existing reality. You break it.”
“Destruction is necessary for reconstruction,” Courtly said.
“Wonder evolves,” the queen’s jaw tightened. “It twists and pulls, but marches forth somewhat cohesively. Wilderness tears it apart and puts it together in a way it couldn’t have achieved otherwise. There is a reason you anger Time so, undoing all its hard work.”
“I can’t help it,” Courtly quoted. “It’s my nature.”
“I have no intention of drowning with you,” the Queen of Hearts said.
“So you admit that I am capable of stinging even your mighty majesty?”
“Get. Out.”
“You summoned me,” Courtly muttered, but skedaddled out of there.
- - - - - - -
Courtly had found what she was looking for.
And now, standing before the mighty beast, white handkerchief in hand, she wondered if she’d made a colossal mistake.
“Salutational day, my Wild kin,” she said. “I am the Vice-Principal, at your service.”
“Foolish interloper,” the Jabberwocky’s eyes of flickering fire flared. “The Cat, the Hat and the Card could do next to naught. What chance stand ye ‘gainst a manxome foe such as this?”
“No, no no,” Courtly raised her hands, internally seething at the comparison. “You know not whether I be friend or foe. I seek not piercing words, nor scathing claws, so hear me out, learn my sympathetic cause.”
“Youngling,” the Jabberwocky sneered. “What can offer a reversed card?”
“Play me not as a fool, good sir,” Courtly said, eyeing its fangs. “I have already embarked on my journey, and my risks bore fruit. One can become all, when not bound to a suit.”
“A pawn, a clown, is potential in all but name, shall I spoil your fun? You play a dangerous game, misguiding little one,” the Jabberwocky settled on its haunches, a gleam in its eye.
“Perilous indeed, but ‘twill reap great reward, and amusement for you, should I fall off the board,” Courtly said.
“Interesting,” the Jabberwocky burbled, tapping its chin with a taloned paw. “I grant you your life, if you leave by the double, and I’ll answer one call, Wild child of trouble.”
Courtly grinned, sharp as a Cheshire.
“I may eat you after your summons,” the Jabberwocky smiled toothily. “Ponder with care this trick up your sleeve.”
Courtly curtsied quickly, then scurried away as fast as her feet could carry her.
- - - - - - -
“The Evil Queen here?” Courtly asked, incredulous. “In Wonderland?”
“Our scouts report that she’s amassing forces in the lowlands,” Chase said, running agitated fingers through his hair.
“The lowlands? how’d she do that, then?”
“It’s her curse. She can probably ward against it.”
“Yes, but,” Courtly clenched her hand into a fist. “It merged with the very Wonder of this land. Even she can’t be completely immune!”
“Maybe she just doesn’t care,” Chase said.
“Or she doesn’t know,” Courtly breathed. “She believes herself to be safe. Oh, this is simply too good. She won’t be at the top of her game, not under these conditions.”
“Vice-Principal,” Chase said. “If I may, please do not take unnecessary risks. The School needs someone at its head.”
“And right now I’m your best option?” Courtly snarked.
He sputtered.
“I'm just kidding,” she said. “I’ll shelve this as a plan B, should the need arise.”
- - - - - - -
“The Jabberwock? Slain?” Courtly gaped. “Surely that’s nonsense.”
“It would appear there’s a new knight on the chessboard,” Chase avoided meeting her eyes.
He barely flinched when she threw her glass mug at the wall, where it shattered into scattered shards.
“Good boy,” she said. “You’re learning.”
His face stayed carefully blank.
“It was valuable,” Courtly hissed. “Who dared?”
Silence answered her.
“Well, find them!” she snapped at the Red Knight. “Chop chop!”
Courtly turned to scowl out the window.
“Oh!” she whirled back around, making the knight jump. “Get someone to deliver all reports on Evil Queen sightings from the past fortnight. I want them on my desk by noon.”
- - - - - - -
Warped Wonder was laughably malleable to Wilderness, as Courtly could attest. The Evil Queen clearly hadn’t factored in Wild Cards when tapping into her curse’s connection to the magic of Wonderland in order to cloak her encampment from denizens of the same realm. Insanity that would claw at most minds merely rejuvenated Courtly’s madness, resulting in a surge of confidence instead of fear, and she stood unbowed in front of a war leader after having breached her security measures.
“An alliance,” the Evil Queen repeated, looking down her nose at Courtly.
“I control The School,” she stubbornly persisted. “I hold more power than all but the Hearts and Diamonds. And I plan on changing that last bit rather soon.”
“Ambitious,” the queen smiled a smile that sent a shiver up Courtly’s spine. “And already yielding results, if incomplete ones. Seizing Wonderland High is no small feat, even if you fail to get the throne.”
Courtly inclined her head minutely.
“I will be in touch if I ever have need of you,” the Evil Queen informed her. “But one thing should be made very clear to you.”
She loomed large, shadows darkening and pooling across the floor to lap at the Jester's feet.
Courtly sucked in a breath as they began to twine around her ankles.
“I contact you,” the Evil Queen’s face twisted in rage. “You do not approach me. You do not seek me out. Do not repeat this little stunt of yours. You were always destined to be some Queen’s fool.”
Shadows seeped up the Jester’s clothes, thick and viscous, pinning her in place and chilling her to the bone.
“Make no mistake on who is pulling the strings.”
- - - - - - -
“I may have found use for you, little Jester,” the Evil Queen said.
“Lewis H. Carroll,” Courtly sweared at the sudden appearance of the projected reflection in her standing mirror. “The fresh fairy fudge?”
“I bumped into the Cheshire Cat,” the queen ignored Courtly’s startled response. “You’ll never guess what she had on her.”
Courtly kept her mouth shut.
“Look,” the Evil Queen raised the object in her hands to her chest.
It was the Storybook of Legends.
It. Was. The. Thrice. Cursed. Storybook. Of. Hexing. Legends.
“If anything can crack the power in this book,” the Evil Queen said, “it’s Wild Wonder.”
Courtly suppressed an eye-roll.
Once again, reduced to her Wild nature.
But for once, it could work in her favor.
“Here,” the Evil Queen pushed the book at the glass, where it met a slight resistance before squelching as if through ooze and falling at Courtly’s feet. “It’s recently come to my attention that magical safeguards don’t always remember to take Wild Wonder into account when warding against interference.”
Courtly reverently picked up the book she would have never-ever-after been given access to under any other circumstances, breathlessly giddy.
The secrets of Authors could very well be contained in this ancient tome.
“And, perhaps if I’m feeling generous,” the Evil Queen continued. “I will grant you a destiny you so sorely lack.”
Destiny. Hah!
It was unclear to Courtly, at times, who was the manipulated, and who was the manipulator.
This was not one of those times.
“I’d be eternally grateful,” the falsehood dripping from Courtly’s lips like syrup was even sweeter than maple sap. “Your Sinister Majesty.”
- - - - - - -
click
The lock on the Storybook gave up its almighty struggle with an anticlimactic shift.
Courtly flipped the cover open with trembling fingertips.
On the first page, flowery letters spelled out the iconic opening phrase - once upon a time…
Courtly raised her quill, still slightly bent from years crushed in her trunk, and traced the gilded words.
The door to her office opened for the one person who had the authority to enter without explicit permission, even if he usually knew better than that, and she shoved the Storybook of Legends into a desk drawer.
“What?” she snapped.
“Um,” Chase swallowed. “We have new enrollment.”
“And?” Courtly said.
“It’s Lizzie, Maddie, and Kitty,” he fidgeted with the hilt of his sword, “as well as three Ever Afterlings.”
“What.”
Chase shrugged helplessly.
“Of course!” Courtly threw her hands up. “Of course they come here! What impeccable timing! What a way to celebrate returning to your homeland! Going to highschool, why not?”
“Vice-Principal?”
“What. Is. It?” she enunciated slowly
“One of them is the Evil Queen’s daughter.”
“Well,” Courtly blinked. “How about that…”
“How would you like to proceed?” Chase asked.
“Get the White Rabbit to arrange a sufficiently taxing schedule,” she said. “Can’t have them running around willy-nilly, poking their noses in where they don’t belong. Make sure they’re occupied. I have some plotting to do.”
The Evil Queen must have had an alert on The School’s mirrors, because she called once again moments later.
- - - - - - -
Six girls sat in the castleteria of The School, but Courtly and a certain queen only cared about two of them; Raven Queen and Lizzie Hearts.
She approached, ignoring Maddie’s frown, and perched on their table.
“Hello, darlings,” she said. “It’s been ever so long.”
“Oh, you know each other?” the blond of the group perked up.
“In a manner of speaking,” Lizzie grumbled.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” the blond offered her hand for a shake. “I’m Apple.”
“How fruity,” Courtly said, clasping Apple’s hand briefly.
Apple looked confused.
“Guys, this is Courtly,” Kitty said. “Tread carefully.”
“The Joker’s daughter,” Lizzie clarified.
Courtly shot her an irritated look.
“Anyway,” a girl with a pink streak in her curly hair said, “we need to talk to the Vice-Principal.”
“Do you, now?” Courtly sprawled across the table, propping herself up on her elbow, so that she was face to face with the girl. “How interesting.”
“Briar,” Lizzie warned.
“It’s fairy important,” Apple said, eyes earnestly wide.
“Do you know how we can arrange a meeting?” Raven asked.
“That’s… complicated, I’m afraid,” Courtly said. “It would also very much depend on the why.”
“That’s classified information,” Lizzie said.
“Don’t be rude,” Raven said.
“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” Courtly shrugged. “Especially from Hearts.”
The three Ever Afterlings frowned at their Wonderlandian companions.
“You shouldn’t have to be,” Apple said.
“At this point, it’s deserved,” Lizzie sniffed.
“How would you know?” Raven asked.
“She was a menace at nine,” Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “She’s had six years to hone her skill.”
“Six years you weren’t here for,” Raven said.
“Because of whose curse, might I ask?” Lizzie said.
“Don’t bring my mother into this,” Raven gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening.
“Guys, guys, time out,” Briar cut in. “Take a deep breath, and chill, both of you.”
They ignored her.
“She doesn’t even have a destiny to blame this on!” Lizzie’s face reddened dramatically. “She’s just a troublemaker!”
“What is destiny, beyond others’ expectations of us?” Raven stood. “She was saddled with her parentage, tried, and found guilty in your eyes, of the crime of being an outcast!”
“Raven,” an unusually subdued Maddie broke her silence. “Something’s up with her. The Narrator-”
“To hex with the fairy-godmother-damned Narrator!” Raven yelled. “I can’t believe you. What happened to the Maddie who didn’t give a spell that my mother was the Greatest Evil the World Has Ever Known?”
The castleteria went deathly quiet.
“I would run,” Courtly suggested.
In a screech of chair legs against floor tiles, the student body rose up in anger, the air filling with battle-cries and thundering footsteps.
“The curse-”
“Free us!”
“Her mother-”
“Go,” Briar grabbed Raven’s arm. “Run. Now!”
The six girls took off, a mob at their heels.
“Don’t be late for class!” Courtly yelled after her bloodthirsty students.
- - - - - - -
Courtly was giggling as she watched the security mirror feeds, witnessing the trespassers being saved by the ringing bell, when the mirror in front of her went dark, and a now familiar tome fell out.
“Jester,” came a low voice. “It is done.”
Courtly hesitated.
“What’s the catch?” she asked.
“There must be a sacrifice,” the Evil Queen said. “The power of the Storybook will now allow another to sign as future sovereign of Wonderland if the current heir is out of the way.”
“I have to kill Lizzie?” Courtly drew back.
“Unfortunately, it is not so simple,” the Evil Queen said. “Open to the page of the Queen of Hearts.”
Courtly complied, finding two blank spaces for a signature, one prefaced by Destiny’s Pledge and the other-
“She has to sign her relinquishment,” the Evil Queen explained. “Willingly.”
“Willingly?” Courtly said skeptically. “That will never happen.”
“Don’t doubt me,” the Evil Queen snarled. “And watch your tone, girl . I said willingly, not that it has to be uninfluenced. There is no clause nullifying the contract if she signs under duress.”
“Okay,” Courtly said. “All that’s good to know. But I meant, how are you ensuring you get what you want?”
“You will get Raven to sign,” the Evil Queen said. “Because if you don’t, I will personally ensure that your reign is the shortest in any realm’s history.”
- - - - - - -
“Vice-Principal!” fists pounded outside her door. “Vice-Principal!”
Courtly groaned, massaging her temples.
“Our champion has bested your Attendance Officer in single combat!” Lizzie Heart’s voice bombarded her ears. “By your rules, we have earned a meeting!”
Courtly spun her office chair around, waving her hand half-heartedly to open the door.
A freelance knight and a squad of squalling girls traipsed in.
“We need your help-”
“Curse-”
“My mother will hear of this-”
“Evil Queen-”
“Safe passage-”
“Guys!” Maddie raised her voice over the hubbub. “The Narration is here.”
The group went quiet.
Time for her dramatic entrance.
“Oh, hex,” Maddie muttered.
Courtly slowly spun her chair around, fingers laced in front of her, and rested her elbows on the desk.
“Courtly!” Lizzie swelled like a pufferfish. “How dare you! I demand to see the Vice-Principal at once!”
Kitty gazed at Courtly suspiciously, fiddling with her pocket watch chain.
“Oh, Lizard Gizzard,” Courtly said, invoking the half-forgotten nickname. “You already are.”
“ You’re the Vice-Principal?” Briar asked.
“At your service,” Courtly smirked.
“Oh, this is great!” Apple said. “I understand that you’re very busy, but-”
“No buts!” Lizzie cut her off. “We’re done here.”
“Oh?” Courtly tilted her head. “But school isn’t out yet. You can’t leave in the middle of the day.”
“Why not?” Raven asked.
“Because those are the rules,” Courtly said evenly.
“The Evil Queen is at large, and I am going to check on my mother,” Lizzie announced. “Just try and stop me.”
With a snap of her fingers, Courtly summoned a deck of card soldiers, who spread themselves out in a half-circle, blocking the exit and boxing in the seven interlopers between them and the desk.
“Ask, and you shall receive, princess,” she said.
The freelance knight took a clanking step forward, only to find several pikes pointed at his chest.
“I order you to let me go!” the Heir of Hearts stomped her foot.
“Your mother has no jurisdiction here,” Courtly said. “And neither do you.”
“What’s going on, Courtly?” Maddie asked, finally looking away from the ceiling.
The Joker’s daughter reached into a desk drawer, retrieving a book and a quill.
“Is that-” Raven started.
“The Storybook of Legends,” Courtly confirmed.
“Mom said the Evil Queen took it,” Kitty said, taking a cautionary step back. “Why do you have it?”
“It’s quite simple, darling,” Courtly said, opening the book. “You can leave, and I’ll even write you up a pardon for cutting class. I just need an itty-bitty favor.”
“Or what?” Briar asked.
“Detention,” Courtly grinned.
The three Wonderlandians flinched.
“What do you want?” Apple asked.
Courtly turned to the relevant page and flipped the book around.
“Rescind your claim to the throne,” she told Lizzie. “Or you and your friends never leave.”
“W-what?” Lizzie paled. “Is that even possible? It’s my destiny.”
“Just sign on the dotted line,” Courtly said. “I can make things so much simpler for you, and in return you get free will. It’s the deal of your lifetime.”
“And we can make this so much harder for you,” Raven threatened, eyes glowing indigo.
“Not from detention,” Courtly booped her on the nose. “Enough time in there, and you’ll be begging me for a way out.”
“You’re bluffing,” Kitty said.
“Tsk,” Courtly tutted. “Did no one teach you how to play cards? Don’t call a bluff if you’re not prepared to deal with the consequences of being wrong.”
Briar burst into sudden action and rushed the card soldiers, hitting one shoulder-first.
The card bent, creasing in the middle, but didn’t move from its position. Briar bounced back, off-balance, and was caught under the armpits by the freelancer.
“Guards!” Courtly clapped her hands. “Escort these six students to court.”
- - - - - - -
Courtly had been glaring at the quivering White Rabbit, who had volunteered to represent the rule-violaters, but the burning haze in the courtroom forced her to blink.
“Rabbit!” she said. “Make a note for later to ban hookahs indoors.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the White Rabbit scribbled something down in his notepad.
Bunny Blanc sat by the witness stand, fists clenched in the manner they always were when Courtly addressed her father, but she said nothing.
If she and her father wanted to remain in the safety of The School, then they had to play by Courtly’s rules.
“Order in the court!” Chase stepped forward, with a black eye and a swollen lip.
The gallery quietened.
“All rise,” he continued, “for the honorable judge, the Caterpillar.”
The muted sound of feet hitting the ground spread throughout the room as everyone stood on their feet.
The Caterpillar stepped out, dragging a hookah behind him.
“You may be seated,” he said upon reaching the bench.
More muffled thumps filled the room as its occupants sat down.
“Court is now in session,” Chase said. “Bring out the defendants.”
The six nuisances walked in, flanked by card soldiers, the knight who’d defeated Chase at their heels.
“Your Honor,” Courtly piped up. “The knight is not enrolled in, nor employed by this school, and therefore should not be here.”
“Untrue!” Alistair leapt to his feet in the gallery. “Trials are open to all!”
“Sit down, you imbecile,” Courtly said. “You’re a spectator in this event.”
“Your Honor,” the White Rabbit said. “My clients have claimed this knight as their champion. As such, he is permitted to be on school grounds, and, by extension, to view this trial.”
“Mayhaps,” Courtly said. “But he is not being tried.”
“To the gallery with you,” the Caterpillar made a little shooing motion.
“Could I not testify?” the knight asked, voice echoing hollowly from his helmet.
“As the defendants’ recognized champion, you cannot,” the judge said. “You are explicitly biased in their favor.”
The freelance knight nodded, and went to sit in the gallery.
“Ms. Jester, your opening statement, please,” the judge said.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury,” Courtly placed her hands behind her back. “These six girls cut class, ran in the hall, issued an unjustified challenge to the Attendance Officer via champion, and attempted to break into the Vice-Principal’s office. There can be no doubt that they are just as unruly as the charges claim them to be.”
Audible shifts and shuffles could be heard from the jury box.
“Thank you, Ms. Jester,” the judge said. “White Rabbit?”
“Yes, well,” the White Rabbit cleared his throat. “These girls cut class and ran through the hall, yes, but you must consider the mitigating circumstances. They found themselves in a sealed realm, half of them having never set foot here before, the others not having been here for significantly formative years. They also received news that the Evil Queen had been sighted in Wonderland.”
The gallery gasped, and Courtly grimaced.
Well, the news would’ve had to get out eventually.
“As one of my clients is the Heir of Hearts, this news was quite concerning,” the White rabbit was gaining confidence. “So they were in hurried urgency. Said urgency also necessitated an audience with the Vice-Principal, giving legitimacy to their challenge. And as winners, by proxy, of said challenge, they possessed the right to enter the Vice-Principal’s office for an audience. Therefore, as the Vice-Principal was present within her office, they had the right of entry.”
“Thank you, White Rabbit,” the Caterpillar blew out a stream of steam. “Ms. Jester, you may call your first witness.”
“Your Honor, I call Bunny Blanc to the stand,” Courtly said.
Bunny complied.
Chase turned to face her.
“Do you affirm that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury?” he asked.
“I do,” Bunny said.
Chase nodded at Courtly.
“Please state your name and age,” Courtly requested.
“Bunny Blanc,” she said. “Age sixteen.”
“Where do you go to school?”
“The School,” Bunny said.
“Do you recognize the defendants?”
“I do.”
“Were you with them at any point during this day?”
“Yes.”
“Please describe all actions of the accused that you witnessed today.”
“Alright,” Bunny looked over at her friends apologetically. “It started this morning…”
- - - - - - -
Unruliness was truly an easy charge to make stick.
Shame enforcement of the law seemed to be lax lately.
“What do you mean, escaped ?” Courtly asked.
“Exactly that,” Chase told her. “Detention is empty but for Alistair.”
“He wound up there again?” she said, momentarily distracted. “Wait, never mind that! Where’d they go?”
Chase shrugged.
“The Storybook!” Courtly gasped. “Curse it all. To my office, now!”
“No running in the halls,” Chase protested. “It’s against-”
“Bugger the rules!” Courtly shoved him. “Remember? Ugh, what good are you anymore?”
“Courtly-”
“That’s Vice-Principal to you!”
“Wait a sec,” Chase said, hurt lining his features.
Courtly hesitated a brief second, before hoisting herself out a window.
“Can’t run in the hall if you ain’t in the hall,” was all she said before sprinting up the wall.
No tell-tale clanging followed her.
- - - - - - -
Courtly briefly closed her eyes, hoping her quill would finally come through.
She stood in her office poised and ready, Storybook in hand.
Seconds ticked by slowly.
Then-
Swirls of purple mist erupted into existence, dissipating into motes of light that drifted away from the six figures emerging from within.
“Got there eventually,” Kitty snarked, her and the others facing away from Courtly.
“Hello, girls,” Courtly smiled exaggeratedly as they jumped and whirled around. “Looking for something?”
“Please,” Raven said upon spotting her. “You’re better than this. Just because your father-”
“You don’t get it,” Courtly snapped, watching the five other girls spread out in order to surround her. “This is about me . He left me to deal with the consequences of his actions. This isn’t solely revenge for his sake. It’s my escape from his legacy.”
“Seems to me you only act based on your parentage either way,” Raven said. “Instead of forging your own path.”
“Oh?” Courtly said. “Then why cross out and rip the Evil Queen’s page? You could have just closed the book, but you didn’t.”
“She shouldn’t know that,” Kitty said. “How do you know that?”
She was summarily ignored.
“That’s different,” Raven’s voice caught in her throat. “It’s dangerous.”
“Are you scared?” Courtly laughed. “Scared that accepting power turns you into your mother? Why not use it for yourself? To ‘forge your own path’? Hm?”
“You know nothing of power,” Raven said.
“I know power that your mother could only dream of,” Courtly spat at her.
She stabbed the point of her quill into the Storybook of Legends, then pulled it sharply downwards. A trail of leaden ink marked its passage through the air.
“I write the rules now,” Courtly said.
the girls that fell to wonderland froze
They six girls simultaneously shivered, puffs of breath visible in front of their mouths.
“You’re not mad,” Lizzie whispered through chattering teeth. “You’re insane.”
“No,” Courtly shook her head. “I’m Wild.”
away she tried. to world of readers
The words fizzled out like dampened embers.
“What are you doing?” Briar asked, horrified.
“Getting the hex out of dodge,” Courtly said. “Or I will, when I’m a fully fledged Author. When I can truly spread my wings.”
“It’s not enough to be a writer,” Raven said. “Not if you only write for yourself. You can’t call yourself an Author if no one is reading.”
“Eh,” Maddie made a so-so motion with her hand. “Readers are only a part of it. You need to write for the love of the craft, from the want to tell a story, and that is what you’re missing. Your words lack life.”
Courtly gazed upon her quill, old, bent, and musty, and mutely allowed the truth to wash over her.
“I’m stuck here?” she said, as quiet as she’d ever been. “I’m stuck here?”
She snorted, then started giggling, which morphed into laughing uncontrollably.
“There was never a way out!” she gasped between fits of laughter. “Labels and boxes and Undestiny- I’ll never get Away.”
“Away is where you aren’t,” Lizzie said. “Where we tried to keep the Jabberwock when it was in Ever After High.”
“Until you let go of your Undestined legacy,” Raven said. “Your father will always be right there with you.”
“If I can’t leave,” Courtly said, forcing down vestigial hiccups. “Then I can at least make this place more tolerable.”
She bit her quill, bitterness flooding her tongue as it snapped in two between her incisors, falling to the ground to rest in pieces.
Hearts Palace she said, lead ink on her lips.
Six girls, an unnoticed spectator who had run in the halls, and one Dictator vanished from the Vice-Principal’s office.
- - - - - - -
“What is the meaning of this?” the Queen of Hearts yelled. “Lizzie? What on Grimm’s green grass is going on here?”
quiet Courtly said.
All sound vanished.
Courtly took a deep breath.
Lizzie she mouthed sign over your destiny
The Heir of Hearts took an inaudible step forwards, face screwed up in internal struggle.
Courtly didn’t, couldn’t hear the familiar creak of armor plates behind her.
Lizzie retrieved a pen from her pocket.
An arm came around Courtly’s throat, trapping her in a chokehold.
Lizzie pressed the tip of the pen to the page.
Writhing, Courtly dropped the Storybook of Legends before Lizzie could sign, clawing at the offending limb and fighting for air.
With nothing on her mind but the need to breathe, ink and spit flew from her gaping mouth, and reality righted itself with a pop , sound rushing back into existence.
Lizzie flung away the pen, staggering back several feet.
“I’m sorry,” the Red Knight, the person blocking air from reaching her lungs and blood from reaching her brain, once upon a time her Chase, said.
“Why?” he’d asked her once, as The School’s card soldiers dragged her away.
As the world began to spin and black dots filmed over her field of vision, all eyes were on Courtly.
The riddle he’d never solved.
She was the only one who saw Briar tuck the fallen Storybook of Legends into her bag.
She let her face muscles spasm in the facsimile of a laugh, dull dried ink staining her chin, because a princess was breaking the rules, and because Chase really should know the answer by now.
“You see-”
Vaguely, Courtly wished the Beauty princess luck.
“It’s a m-”
Then she blacked out.