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For someone who walks a path of order, to the point that almost every step he takes down that road is a part of some kind of predetermined schedule, it's baffling how a simple turn down one direction could lead to such chaos. Even more so when the reason for straying was so utterly unbelievable that one could only laugh at the ridiculousness of its simplicity — love, specifically love from someone known for nothing but the trouble they cause, you.
You were, like many, full of unbridled ambition. By all definitions of the words, you were free, untamed, and so unbelievably wild. Everything that made up Riddle Rosehearts was void and null in your person and you lived your life so unapologetically unrestrained that it both terrified and enraged him. Made him scoff your name out in annoyed utterance. Made him dread your presence. Made him hate you for all the problems you brought upon him.
…Yet somehow, you — so unruly and undisciplined — managed to weasel your way into his carefully organized life and throw a wrench in it. Somehow, you managed to turn his distaste for you into love. Somehow, your chaos became something that was more wonderful to experience than crush.
He fought at first — he knew that someone so uncontrollable would bring nothing but disorder to his life — but in the end, his feelings flourished out of his control and he, unable to keep his head afloat in such rocky waters, for once in his life, threw caution to the wind and went under. Despite his worries, he embraced you and your rebellion that he loved oh so dearly.
And as a result? You ended up pregnant.
When you came to him with the news, he was at a loss for words. This.... This chapter of his life was not meant to occur for another decade at least! After all, he had arranged his own story down to a frightening degree. Had carefully curated each page of his book in such a specifically strict way that he was sure that unpredictability had been completely erased by the time the ink began to stain them...but, just as he had expected, you had gone and set a match to all his hard work in a matter of seconds.
You knew this — knew Riddle — and had confessed this life-changing revelation to the man you loved more than anything with the idea in mind that you’d be forced to deal with it alone. That Riddle would choose his perfect structure over you in a heartbeat and you’d have to care for this child alone. You had been bracing for the anger. The yelling. The abandonment.
It never came.
To your surprise, it seemed that you had misjudged your pencil-pushing boyfriend. Misunderstood where you and his rules and guidelines had laid on his scale of importance. Underestimate how much you meant to him because in the face of you, so unusually fearful and anxious, not once did fury flood him. Upon witnessing your choked up words and tearful, trembling form, he pulled you close, combed through your hair with careful tenderness, and spent the rest of that night shushing your worries in every way he could think of.
It’s then, amongst those inexperienced pecks and awkward reassurance, that he told you that he’d remain by your side. That this unprecedented turn of events is one you’d face hand in hand together. That he’d be willing to throw any and all sensibility he knew out of the window, break any rule unable to bend for you, and walk every wrong path there is to tread if it meant that you’d remain in his life, child and all.
The decision was made then; you two would form a new sense of order. One that welcomed unpredictability. That welcomed this new addition to your family despite it not being fully solidified by a ring and vow. Riddle was determined to make this work for you.
...And then it all fell apart again.
Maybe this was his doing for bringing you so much stress throughout your pregnancy. For letting his instincts steer him. For trying to instill control where it didn't belong. For trying to constrain you when you strayed out of line. For trying to force you into a box you never belonged in the first place.
Or maybe the fault falls on you. On your impulsiveness and your inability to not indulge in the things that weren't good for you and the baby. For putting your preferences and pleasures over all else. For taking unnecessary risks for the joy of it. For sticking by what was familiar to you despite all the signs that pointed to this ending terribly.
Maybe you were both to blame for not compromising. For not attempting to find some kind of middle way. For not trying to see the other's side in this precarious situation. For not acknowledging how the fast approach of your child was taking a toll on both of you. For not realizing that anxiety was pushing you both to seek relief in extreme ways that felt right to you in the moment.
No matter. Thinking about who to pin the blame on for this now would just run him in circles and change nothing. You were gone and your child, Alice, was here an entire month earlier than she was meant to arrive — looking like a mini, frailer version of her father.
As the piercing wails of new life echoed throughout the hospital room, Riddle wept at the news that finalized the loss of an old one he loved oh so dearly. His sobs were softer in comparison, but they racked his being and stretched on much longer than his darling daughter's as every wall he had built in preparation for this moment came down one by one to crush him.
Riddle's older now — teetering his late twenties to be exact — and he's now both a graduate of Night Raven College and a first-year associate at a renowned law firm. His schedule is jam-packed with long shifts that stretch into late nights and early mornings. Furthermore, his knowledge and strong sense of justice has built him a promising path that painted a picture of steady success.
He was finally starting to mend the cracks in his life after a long time of battling the first years of parenthood as a broken shell and little Alice Rosehearts — who was freshly eight years of age — was beginning to grow into her little quirks more and more.
The bad ones especially.
The parenting 101 books he clung to religiously warned him of this very thing occurring and Riddle tried his hardest to discipline her young and instill in her good eating, studying, and behavioral habits, but it seemed that Alice grew more and more into your habits every day.
It was possible that pulling all nighters at work when he didn't have to was part of Alice’s downfall as well. Allowing others to raise her with merely the promise to uphold his rules and practice abiding without him there to observe or teach her himself was an ill plan in hindsight. Now, his daughter skips with an air of rebellion to her step that was baffling to witness and hard to break.
This morning, for example, was rare as it allowed Riddle enough time to actually have breakfast with Alice. It should've been a brief, enjoyable moment filled with catch up chatter that updated Riddle on his daughter's life, but instead it was filled with a tense back n’ forth when he saw her breakfast — that could barely stick to the name.
He furrows his brows as his teacup leaves his lips and he eyes the giant tart that shoulders the big, fluffy, syrupy pancakes that take up the center of his daughter's plate.
"What in the queen's name are you eating?" It took everything in him not to shriek those words, "Where is your breakfast? It should've been in the fridge. I prepared it—"
And she cuts him off — him, her father of all people — without a second of hesitation.
"This is breakfast," She tells him, "Uncle Trey made these yummy pancakes and this strawberry tart for me yesterday before I left!" She said cheerily, a stark contrast to the visible dismay stuck on Riddle's face.
"Hardly can you suggest something like that is a fitting meal to start any day with! All that sugar will leave you exhausted by noon," He retorted, "Not to mention that this meal is blatantly breaking house rule one hundred and forty-three; strawberry tarts are only to be eaten as a post-dinner dessert if one behaves well enough to earn it."
Then came the light whining of his chair as Riddle suddenly stood, which was followed by Alice's cries of distress filling the room as her delicious and not-so nutritious meal was confiscated before a bite of it could touch her lips.
"You may have the tart after dinner later today, but I cannot allow these pancakes to remain here," He said with finality. Turning as he mumbles his inner thoughts aloud, "It seems a meeting with Trey is in order. He must be sternly reminded about what is classified as a meal food and what is very clearly a dessert. It’d be good to go over your meal schedule with him again as well and ensure he knows what’s acceptable for you to have for each meal and snack break..."
That lit a fire under the girl — one so big that she jumped from her seat at the table and ran over to her father, yanking at his pants leg so suddenly that it made Riddle stumble back a bit.
He looked down at her, ready to scold her for breaking Rule 27: No roughhousing inside the house, when Alice spoke first, "No! Bad Father! Gimme my food back!"
"No?!" He parrots incredulously, "What has gotten into you, young lady?! To be so blatantly disrespectful — and to your own father at that…such insolence is unacceptable!"
"Such disobedience is deserving of punishment. This tart is going in the trash right along with these pancakes!"
That should've been the end of it, but what Riddle failed to realize up until that moment was that his little girl had gotten more than just her looks from him. At the drop of such words from his lips falling upon her tiny ears, her brows dipped into a firm v and she began jumping up and down hurriedly, desperately yanking at Riddle's clothes and screaming her head off for him to stop until—!
Crash!
The room fell in silent stillness in an instant as all eyes fell to the floor where the plate now laid toppled over and shattered into pieces. The fluff of the pancakes had done little to break the fall of the ceramic and keep it from breaking, only adding onto the giant mess of cream, fruit, and glass.
Initially, there was shock that dawned Riddle as he was taken off guard by the sudden sound, but the more he stared at the pile of sugar and shards laying at his feet, the more vexed he grew until finally, he snapped.
The next time he turned to Alice, it was with a cape of fury she hadn't ever seen him wear before. His skin grew a shade of red as deep as his hair and the air itself seemed to crackle under the rage that was boiling under his skin. His pupils shrunk, his fingers trembled as they clenched into fist, and the next time spoke, it with a cold strain that was akin to the wisp of a match just before it's able to strike fire.
"I've grown tired of this nonsense… You have the gall to break not one, but two rules and then belligerently insult your flesh and blood right after! I will not stand for such an affront a moment longer! I'll have your head!"
His final words boomed as he took a startling step forward. Alice throws her head back to meet her father’s eyes, but topples in the process. Now she sits on the floor, staring up at Riddle like a criminal before the court as his words rip straight through her and settle at her legs — which trembled under the fluff of her frilly dress.
It's then that it happens — the moment that something shifts in Alice’s perception. That the image of her father blurs as her pupils dilate and sink to the bottom of a growing pool of tears.
She blubbers pitifully, trying to hold strong for only a second before realizing she can’t when a loud sniffle and choke escapes her. It’s then she stands to her feet, and on shaky legs, flees the scene frazzled and beyond upset.
( It was a struggle trying to get her ready for school after that. Alice had walled herself in her room and wouldn't let him in no matter what was said or done for the longest time. In the end, Alice was an entire hour late for school and Riddle was nearly two for work — which only further enraged him. )
A gas leak at the firm allowed Riddle the rare luxury to work from home. He was in his office, reading over one of many case summaries, when little Alice came skipping into the room with her favorite white rabbit plush in hand.
"Father! Father!" She exclaimed.
"Inside voice," He reminds, eyes not once rising from the stapled stack of papers in his hand, "Rule fifteen states that everyone inside the home must use their inside voices."
So she tries again, her voice lower, but not losing an ounce of her earlier excitement, "Father! Father! Play with me!"
Riddle's response is immediate, "I can't, little rose. I have to finish reading over this summary so that I can start on the draft documents. The up and coming case requires it."
"You can do that later! C’mon, play with me!" She persists and, at last, Riddle's concentration momentarily lapses as he glances away from the text on the page he’s reading and looks down at her.
"I can't play right now," He deadpans, returning to his paperwork as he throws out, "You shouldn’t either. It’d be wise of you to use the time you have right now to study for your test. It's this Friday, isn't it?"
And Alice, like the bunny snug in her arms, visibly scrunches her nose up at the mention. ( Oh how she hated school and all its challenges that forced her to do the most boring things in the world. )
"I already did..." She lies through her baby teeth, her voice unintentionally raising again alongside her hopes as she asks, "So I get a reward, right? You'll play with me now?"
But alas, she should’ve known things wouldn’t be that easy. Upon hearing her question, Riddle’s brows furrow with his growing agitation and he sternly says, "I've already told you no. Now leave me be," Alice pouts, her cheeks puffing out.
Silence hangs in the air after that as Riddle’s focus rebuilds itself and Alice racks her brain for ideas on what to do. The strain in the air dissipates as tranquility sets in once again, but that peace only lasts a minute or so before an idea pops in the girl's head that she simply couldn’t help but act on.
She leaves the room silently and returns minutes later with a large book nearly as big as her body slotted in her hands — its cover reading 'Magical Applications for Dummies'.
She skips up to her father’s desk, rounding its edge and stopping when she’s finally behind it where her father sits in focused contentment…up until it’s ruined once again when Alice tosses the heavy book onto his lap, forcing air from him in a wisp of surprise.
"What're you—!" Riddle began, but Alice had already begun climbing his pant’s leg. Her movements are rushed as her pudgy fingers dig into his thighs and her foot finds ground digging into his calf, her other leg ambitiously swinging upwards to hook over his knees.
…But it seems she had bitten off more than she could chew. Her stubby leg, too small in length, fails to secure her good leverage and the momentum has Alice’s grip on her father slipping. Thankfully Riddle had seen it coming and — with reflexes only capable from a man who's dealt with the war of having a rambunctious toddler running around in a multi-story house — he leans down and catches her before she can lean too far backwards, securing an arm around her waist and pulling her up the rest of the way with practiced ease.
"What has gotten into you?!" He exclaims panickedly, a mean lecture sitting at the tip of tongue when Alice cuts him off as she shifts in his lap and says, "I wanna study some more! This time with you, father!"
"Alice, I've already told you I can't— wait! Don't set that down there—!"
His hand flew forward, but it was too late. The book had already been picked up and set on his desk and the bottle of ink he was using to underline important details had been bumped by the hard edge of the book, causing the bottle to tip and douse everything within reach in black.
Alice’s gasp sounds almost mocking in the ears of her father, who quickly sets her back down on the floor and sets the bottle upright. He grabs the papers with speed that could break records, but the damage had long been done and the oh so important document had become more or less unreadable — only growing worse when he wipes at it with his hand. By then, apologies had already fallen from the lips of his daughter, who looked as if she had just accidentally kicked a baby hedgehog.
"I—! I'm sorry, father!" She says, voice pitched with a deep sense of panic, "I didn't mean to—!"
"...I told you I was busy," Riddle interrupted, voice low as he spoke in a way that filled the little redhead with dread, "Over and over…I said I was busy, yet you disregarded me and did whatever you wanted..."
Tick tick tick. She could practically hear it in his voice. In the way he spoke. Her time was running out. Her father’s anger was quickly approaching its peak. Alice gulps.
"I- It wasn’t my fault!" She cries out, "The- The bottle! It was in the way! It was an accident!" She spewed when—
Bam! Alice practically jumps out of her skin as Riddle stands to his feet and slams his palms down on the smooth, wooden surface that's now messied by thick liquid, soaking his already soiled gloves even more.
"I don't want to hear it!" He screams, voice powerful enough to echo throughout the room and down the long hall just outside the door, "You're in flagrant violation once again and it's thrown everything into disorder!"
"Do you find joy in turning things out of sorts?! Do you like being punished? Like me to yell and fuss at you?!" He jabs, and Alice takes a step back as if she had been physically impaled by his words.
"N- No! I just...j- just—"
"—just what, Alice?! What is the reason that justifies this behavior?! Tell me!" He slams a hand, now balled into a fist, down again, earning a jump from the girl.
( Riddle never received his answer that day. Instead, he got incessant blubbering and nonstop sobbing he was ill-equipped to deal with, and in the end, a guilty sentence was once again ruled in Alice’s guilty verdict and she received her due punishment. )
As her home grew colder and her father’s presence became more absent with his more frequent overnight shifts, Alice began seeking light elsewhere — at the Trappola household to be exact.
You see, as the Clover Family’s bakery grew busier with the change in season, Trey’s second job of kid supervision came to an abrupt pause which left Riddle scrambling to fix the new home problem that had added to his large pile of work-related ones.
His first idea was to sign Alice up for more extracurricular activities and daycare, but the idea was tossed when he realized that it wouldn't extend to holidays or cover a workaholic single father's extended hours and overnight shifts.
He considered compromising with Trey to allow the girl to stay with him every day he was able to watch her and bring the girl into the firm any day he couldn't, but the thought of a bored Alice in a room with important documentation, clean walls, and an afflux of ink and lead made him shudder in his suit.
That's when he looked to his other companions for help.
His first thought was Cater, who had a past of abiding by his word and rules and had a past of watching Alice throughout her toddler years, but with his increase in travels as of late, he had to unfortunately be ruled out.
His next thought was his mother who, despite the slight strain on their relationship, would take her granddaughter in if asked, but she had her own set of rules and her own way of punishing rulebreakers. Alice wouldn't last a second there, he surmised.
He could ask Chenya, maybe even Azul... Nevermind.
That left Deuce Spade and Ace Trappola, the troublesome duo that tormented him throughout his years as housewarden. Not exactly the best options, but he had no choice but to consider their pros and cons.
He weighed their strengths and weaknesses as well as their good and bad habits carefully, and when shown on paper, Deuce won by a small landslide. It was clear as day that the young man was the better choice, but sadly, he had to be ruled out too when Riddle was politely declined and reminded over the phone of Deuce's new busy schedule that came with the opening of his mechanic shop.
....Which left Ace Trappola as the last one standing.
At the time, clicking the man’s contact was done so with great defeat looming in Riddle’s chest, but maybe he had judged the man too harshly based on past experiences. He had kept a watchful eye ( or as watchful of one as he could cast from his paper-ridden desk at the law firm ) of him and Alice the first month and it seemed as though Riddle had been worried for nothing.
Maturity seemed to have done Ace wonders for he was a completely different person from the boy who nearly got expelled from college his first week. He kept his own digital copy of the rules on his phone for him to look through when he needed it and followed the carefully organized schedule to a T — something not even Trey had done.
Riddle, of course, had his suspicions ( after all, a complete 180 from Ace of all people was unimaginable in even the best of worlds ), but as the days went on and he was put on more and more cases, he couldn't afford to keep up with his daughter and old dormmate's behavior any longer.
…And the moment he did? Well that was the moment Alice met the real Ace Trappola, who she'd soon take quite the liking to.
Alice loved Ace.
For one, he didn't care for stupid schedules or cumbersome rules. As long as she wasn't hurt or making a mess of things, he'd let her run free. He’d allow her to run in the halls and didn't care for what cubby she stashed her toys in. He’d even let her choose what she wanted to wear to school and eat whatever she had an appetite for! No yucky sugar-free yogurts or low-carb omelets ever touched her plate at his home!
He also had loads of free time. Like loads loads. So much, in fact, that they were able to create a blanket fort together and Alice was able to tell him about her entire week in detail without a single interruption! He also introduced her to this thing called video gaming and helped her clear three whole levels of one of the games without having to leave once!
Most importantly, he didn't believe in harsh punishments and never yelled. When she makes mistakes, he jokes and even laughs. When she doesn’t understand something, he never ridicules and instead ruffles her hair and tells her to try again. There was never a scolding. Never any pressure. Just fun times with someone who doesn't mind her presence.
...And it made little Alice realize that maybe, just maybe, the problem was her all along and that she had simply been born in the wrong family.
Riddle was put on a new case one evening during one of his many never-ending shifts. It was a major one — big enough that he had immediately recognized the murderer's file the moment it slid across his desk.
He hadn't known the killer personally, but the man had become a big name in the Queendom of Roses for his crime. It was unsurprising, as crime was never a common occurrence in his hometown, much less a murder of all things.
The victim had been of his own flesh and blood — his daughter. The weapon? A bundle of rope. It was said that the father had always been prone to anger and all it took was a bad day to be the match and his rambunctious little girl to be the lighter that set him off, leading her to a slow, agonizing, and no doubt painful death by the one who should've protected her from such harm.
...And now, that man is trying to fight for nonguilt despite his stained hands. Riddle grits his teeth, his blood heating to a bubble with every word of the case he soaked in.
It irked him as much as it did unsettle him. For a man who had done such a deplorable act to try and declare his innocence after all he had done...and to believe that blasphemy as fact… It was unbelievable! From what had come back from the autopsy, the girl's skin was littered in wounds ranging from small cuts to dark bruises to scars of varying length.
Not every wound was fresh...and many were linked to signs of physical abuse. Cigarette burns that hadn't yet healed enough for her skin to conceal, a bald spot towards the back of her head of what couldn't be grown back, abrasions that told vile tales that made him sick to his core. This crime wasn't done at random, this had been the climax of a heinous cycle of abuse that stretched back to who knows when.
Riddle makes his way to the final page with a clenched fist shaking in anger. He's met with a profile of the victim and a summary of generalized info about her. Her full name, height, weight, ethnicity, age, so on and so forth.
It's there that he learns the girl's exact age. She was eight, her birthday only months apart from his own daughter.
Alice. It's been a while since he's uttered that name. Seen her face. Heard her voice.
He wonders what she's up to right now. He could only hope she was sleeping like expected, but around this time is her usual sneaking snacks hour, so maybe she's ransacking Ace's kitchen like some little thief. He sighs at the thought, but the exhalation is soft and warmed by a degree of fondness.
Whatever she's up to, he can at least be at ease knowing she's safe, sound, and content. That she's breathing without trouble and is only still because of the exhaustion that settles within her and not rigor mortis. That her skin is clear of any and all hardship as is her mind.
And it's all thanks to himself.
She may not like it, may fight it, but even she can't deny that his way of raising is the best thing for her. Her meals carry the appropriate amounts of nutrition in accordance to the time of day and her mid-noon snack break fills her up enough so that she never suffers from hunger waiting for dinnertime to arrive. Her hours of study time are spaced out to perfectly balance the necessary breaks in between. Most importantly, she possesses a certain degree of what any child her age needs; freedom.
She has the freedom to choose what she eats as a post-dinner snack so long as she behaves.
She has the freedom to choose what she wants to wear so long as it aligns with the rules on what's acceptable to wear, which changes depending on the day and setting.
She has the freedom to choose what she wants to do during her free time so long as she runs it by him beforehand.
She has the freedom to choose her interests and vocalize her dislikes.
She has the freedom to go out and explore the world and pick her own friends.
Riddle was never permitted anything so gracious under his mother's strict care.
Now that he's in her shoes, he can sympathize with her approach more. Relinquishing such a thing as freedom to someone untrained and unaligned, especially a young child, just spells chaos and disaster...yet the same could be said the other way around. Too much of one thing will always be bad for you no matter how good or bad so it's important to find a balance — which he was able to find long before this point in time.
Balance. Certainly that's what sets him apart from her. He was able to bend his principles without breaking them or so much as crack their exterior. He was able to find a middle ground amongst the extremities known as strictness and carefreeness. He was able to give Alice everything he was never allowed and more and still maintain structure.
His guidance isn’t suffocating.
His rules aren't too demanding.
His punishments can be seen as a bit harsh but never cruel and his delivery of them is always with just reasoning to back it up.
Alice couldn't have a happier life.
Truly, he's deserving of the title of best father in all of Queendom — maybe even the world.
"You're the worst father in Queendom — no, the whole world!" Ace told him on the night of Alice's ninth birthday, when the girl was forced to retire to bed and everyone else had gone home.
"Excuse me?" The comment made the redhead immediately pause as it was not only abrupt but completely uncalled for and simply untrue. With immediate ire rising within him, he turned to look back at his former underclassmen with a familiar narrowed gaze and tone of voice that always warned Ace to choose his next words carefully.
Of course, as always, Ace ignored his generous warning and with crossed arms told him, "You heard me! You're a bad dad who's a huge jerk to his daughter!"
"Who do you—!" His words had jabbed a button — struck a nerve — and as this typical tango went, Riddle was ready to fly off the rails...until he remembered that Alice was sleeping soundly just a few rooms down the hall.
His mouth clasps shut instantly. Only opening again when he could ensure his voice wouldn't rise above a certain octave.
"Lower your tone," He told him, voice clipped and sounding strained from how much he's resisting the knee-jerk urge to yell in his fit of pique.
"Maybe when you learn how to be a better parent!" He shot back immediately in the same octave. Riddle growled in annoyance.
That's when he finally set the remnants of Alice's cake aside and spun to fully face the violator, his hands instinctively reaching for his pen, "What are you going on about?! Cease your tongue at once or I'll have your head!"
"This is exactly your problem! You don't listen to people!" Ace doubled down with that just look of haughtiness — as if he knew something Riddle didn’t, "You're self-centered as heck! A bit narcissistic too if you asked me!"
"You only ever see things through that rose-tinted, fixed lens of yours and it makes you completely ignorant to the people around you! I honestly thought you were getting better after your overblot back in NRC, but it seems you're still that same pissy little crybaby I punched back then!"
"The absolute gall of you..." Riddle said through a thin breath, expression stunned. Where was this coming from? Why was he suddenly saying this? Suddenly attacking him like this? And on a day such as this one..
"To come at me on a day such as this, insult me, and then attempt to berate me on my ways of nurturing my own child... Your arrogance truly knows no bounds!"
His fist clenched around the barrel of his pen and a red glow illuminates from the crimson jewel atop it soon afterwards, sparkling and blindingly bright — as if it had grown just as vexed as its owner from this back and forth.
And in the face of his demise, Ace stared the enraged Riddle dead in his eyes and continued without an ounce of hesitation.
"Putting me in that stupid collar only proves my point that you're completely deaf to the very clear feelings of those around you — especially your daughter! You make her miserable!" He says.
"Alice is completely fine!" Riddle retorted, "And for you to declare otherwise is—"
"—completely reasonable!" Ace finishes, closing his eyes and turning his nose up at him as he said, "If Y/n was here to see just how terribly you treat their daughter, they'd never forgive you!"
In an instant, the conversation ended as Riddle screamed his go to phrase and that familiar heart-shaped collar appeared around Ace's neck.
After the guilty verdict was passed upon that devil and the murder case was closed, Riddle forbade Alice from ever being near Ace again. He would no longer babysit her. No longer take her out even on the most special occasions. No longer be able to send her gifts or pick her up from school. He was not even allowed to listen to her talk about her day on the phone during her free time which was her most favorite thing of all. He had been completely excommunicated.
And with no one else left to lend a hand, it was just Riddle and Alice again. Just as it was in the very beginning.
He was forced to switch to remote work to care for Alice at home, take her to school, and pick her up from it. He expected the transition to be hectic as he predicted the many interruptions that his overactive daughter was prone for causing.
...Yet he was able to finish an entire day of work without so much as a crash of something breaking or complaining that always forced him to stop. Days turned into a week of this odd pattern before Riddle finally decided it was time to confront the little girl about it.
First at dinner, when she didn't put up a fight over eating her vegetables.
"It's nothing, father. 'Just didn't want to be a bother."
The second time was during one of her free times, when he found her quietly playing with her stuffed animals in her room.
"Nothing's wrong, father. I just didn't want to be a bother to you."
The third was when she turned down one of his rare offers to play with her on a weekend he finished his work early.
"You don't have to force yourself, father. I know you're busy. You don't have to worry about me bothering you."
'I won't be a bother' became the sole response to just about everything he threw at her. Outside of that though, she had become much more complacent in abiding by the rules and her schedules and arguments became few and far in between. He was able to work without worry or trouble.
It was, more or less, perfect...so why did it perturb him so much?
Maybe it was the sudden change and the stoicism. All her life, Alice has always been so loud with her tells that it was obvious when she was happy whenever she flexed her cheeks and showed off her dimples and bounced to the beat of imaginary music. He usually could immediately catch on when she was nervous by the way she tugged at her clothes and drew shapes into her forearm ( usually hearts, but she’d eventually default to circles when she grew stressed ). Always knew the kind of upset she was depending on which leg she'd start off with when she plopped down in a chair and began to swing her feet high. ( Always left when she was angry upset, right when she was sad upset )
Maybe it was the reclusion that came with her flip in demeanor. He's used to her running rampant throughout their home until he's forced to get involved when she inevitably breaks a rule. Used to hearing her tiny feet thudding as she skips and slides through the halls of their home. Nowadays it's desolate and quiet enough to hear a pen drop on a carpet and the only time she emerges from her room is to eat or relieve herself.
Maybe it was the way she'd straighten her posture whenever he entered the same room she was in.
Maybe it was the way she'd fidget with her hands — resisting her usual habits of easing her anxiety to the point she trembled.
Maybe it was that permanent droop she's had on her face since she stopped going over Ace’s house.
Maybe it was the forced control she put on her voice when she spoke to keep it at an octave below what's considered an acceptable 'indoor voice'.
Maybe it was the way her eyes darted away from him after saying something, too scared to even witness his reaction sometimes.
Maybe it was the slight stutter of her breath when he pointed something out.
Maybe...it was because she reminded him so much of himself when he was her age.
...But if that were true, would that make him....his mother in this situation? His mother who controlled every aspect of his life like it was her own? His mother who shackled him to a strict routine of isolation and impossibly high expectations? His mother who was always the reason for his tears? His fear? His pain?
Riddle looks into his cup of now lukewarm tea as if the lemon brew would give him an answer to his questions and tell him where he truly stands in all of this. It doesn't, but the longer he stares, the more it seems like the face that's reflected in the yellowish water becomes more and more distant, beginning to move...as if trying to speak to him.
In fact, if he concentrates, he can just about hear himself yelling back at him, "Do you find glee in throwing everything out of sorts all the time?! Do you find enjoyment in the way you irk me? My punishments?!"
He winces at his own tone. Purses his lips in discomfort at the familiarity of his delivery. It's so harsh yet so cold at the same time. Almost like...
He blinks twice. Breath growing unsteady. One of his hands accidentally brushes the cup's handle when he retracts them and the murky water ripples. In an instant, the reflection of himself sinks under. It would've probably relieved him even amongst the understandable confusion…if another face didn't emerge to take the place of the drowned. This time, the person who stared back at him was the one who plagued his mind most at the moment; his mother.
"Did you enjoy all the chaos you caused by doing this?! Eager for the punishment to come? You must! Those tears must be from pure elation! Surely you wouldn't push me to do this otherwise!" Riddle straightens his posture in his seat. His shoulder locking up with sudden tenseness, his head slinking back like he was attempting to disappear into his own collared shirt.
The memories came flooding back in a violent wave that took his breath away. It felt as though he was right back in that home. Feet hanging midair, hands on his knees, head lowered, tears trickling down his pudgy cheeks.
It's then that it dawns on him. Despite all the years that have passed since then, this pose was a common sight....for Alice would do the same exact thing whenever he scolded her.
His breathing trips and the gulp that followed chokes him. No, no, no, no! He was supposed to be different! He was supposed to be better! He thought he was doing everything right so why is he making the same wrongs as her?
He made sure that her diet was both healthy and filling! He ensured that her study times never exceeded what was recommended and put them between both indoor and outdoor playtimes! He never once played a hand in choosing those she made connections with! He never once controlled her!
...Right? He glances back down at the cup. Ace now stares up at him with an expression of anger.
"This is exactly your problem — you don't listen to people! You're a self-centered jerk. A bit narcissistic too if you asked me!"
"Putting me in that stupid collar only proves my point that you're completely deaf to the very clear feelings of those around you — especially your daughter! You make her miserable!"
"If Y/n was here to see just how terribly you treat their daughter, they'd never forgive you!"
"You're the worst father in all of Queendom — no, the world!"
"I'm not!" Riddle screams at the top of his lungs as if he were trying to convince a crowd rather than just himself at that moment. His words are loud as is his conviction, but gets swallowed by the thick cement of his home office's walls before they ever make it past the closed door.
He looks down at the mess he created in his lapse. The teacup is now spilled over, drenching his shaking hands. His tears — that he only now realizes are falling — add onto the now cold teawater as it slides down his cheeks and drips down off his face. His breathing is still uneven and unbearably loud, but the silence that follows after each one is even worse. It mocks him with unspoken words, leaves him for dead with the three voices that make his head spin, and it only takes a few minutes of that torture to finally get him to crumble and realize the truth.
The truth…that he had become the worst father in all of Twisted Wonderland.because he had become a spitting replica of his mother in mind, body, and soul.
And the worst part about that? Up until now, he had seen himself as the perfect parent.
"May I ask what exactly you're doing up at this hour?"
Alice stills in her tracks. Her heart skipping at the stern voice that came from above. She turns slowly, taking in the sight of the wooden staircase she just tumbled down a step at a time until she finally reached the top...where Riddle stood in his night robe, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.
She gulps.
"I'm sorry," The phrase comes out quickly and without much conscious thought to it. In fact, she doesn't even realize she had already said it and goes to repeat herself, "Sorry, father. I didn't mean to wake you."
"Stop apologizing," He says much too strongly. The girl tenses up because of this and once again, instinctively, apologizes, "..sorry.."
Riddle sighs.
"Nevermind.. What are you doing up at this hour? Rule one hundred and seventeen clearly states that all children under the age of thirteen must retire to bed by 7pm where they will remain until the following morning."
"I- I know, father, I'm sorry. I was hungry and wanted a nighttime snack. I'm sorry," She apologizes again, and Riddle is this close to beginning a lecture about the timing of a proper apology, when he notices an outline of something just behind her.
He squints, trying to forcibly adjust to the darkness as he makes his slow descent down the stairs, "Why are you carrying your schoolbag?"
"Huh?!" She says with a startled rise in her voice, as if she were a thief being caught mid heist. She glances behind her back as if to confirm her father's words and when she inevitably locks eyes with the bag snug against her back, she gulps again.
"I- I...uhm—!" She begins only to zip her lips when Riddle makes it to the bottom of the steps and hits the light switch — basking her in a warm yellow spotlight. She noticeably goes rigid in place.
Riddle watches her as he nears, noting the way her bluish-grey hues darted around the foyer in search of ways to get herself out of this situation. He takes in her dilated pupils, her reddened sclera, and twitching eyelids and deduces that she had to have just gotten done crying before he found her. His eyes soften without him realizing.
"Alice," He calls, dropping his voice low enough that the natural strictness that shapes his tone blurs with the sleepy drag of his drowsiness, "Look at me."
She obliges immediately, stiffly snapping her head forward to stare at him just as he gets down on one knee. He doesn't meet her gaze immediately, giving her a once over to check for any injuries she may have acquired from her fall and then another quick glance once, then twice, to triple check. It's only afterwards — when he's able to comfortably say she's fine — that he looks her in the eye and raises his hand in front of her.
"Give me your bag," He instructs and, though she hesitates, Alice slinks the straps off her shoulders. Riddle takes it from her, unclasps the large flap at the top of the bag, and flips it open to peer inside.
The first thing he takes note of is the large wad of poorly folded clothing stuffed at the very top of the bag and tugs them out one by one. Her red blouse with the puffed sleeves she loved oh so much, one of her many beloved plated skirts, her new rainboots he had gotten her not too long ago to combat the stormy spring season, and her favorite, polka-dotted bow. He lays it all to the side.
Then, wrapped in one of her old naptime blankets was her favorite plushie. White ears bent back and its foot touching its chin from previously being smooshed next to rainboots. He takes it out and sets it to the side.
He finds a bag of cookies. Another clean, empty bundle of unused ones to the side of it. Not a single nutritious food item to be seen. He takes them all out and sets them to the side. His face had begun to sour even more than it already had been.
Another one of her plushies, an alarmingly large bag of coins that were no doubt taken from her piggy bank — that's likely now smashed to pieces upstairs in her room — he glances upward with knowing displeasure scrunching his brows together.
"Sorry…" She squeaks out meekly upon catching onto his gaze. He huffs before returning back to the task at hand.
With each item yank out of the large bag, Alice's demeanor shifts. Her fingers twitch with her growing panic. Her feet tap away to the growing feeling of her impending doom. Her eyes follow his hands that scrounge through her bag at an angle that hides the insides, making her mind race with what he'd fish out next and her heart skip at every reaction he has to what's presented to him.
The realization had long come to pass. Her intentions shining as clearly as the water sloshing in the transparent bottle Riddle just pulled from the girl’s bag. She had been in the midst of a grand escape plan of fleeing her home — fleeing from him — and as hard as that pill was to swallow, it was as if the pill had quadrupled in size and crushed his windpipe when he realized that he wasn't the least bit shocked.
What did take him aback, though, was when he finally reached the bottom of the bag — reached the final item laid flat on its back — and his moon-blue hues caught the sight of a familiar silver rose. A certain silver rose that made the door of a certain pendant.
A certain pendant...that held his first love inside, you.
He had never taken it out of the box it came in after the initial look he had on the night of his 20th birthday. He had told himself it was to preserve the gift. To ensure that no ruin came to it, and by extension, you, but alas, as he stares at the fine detailing of the metal petals and recalls the picture that was just beyond it — your pretty, smiling image — the real reason comes crumbling down upon him like the tears he shed the night you left him in that hospital room. That painful memory that reawakens every time he looks at an old portrait of you or finds a forgotten item of yours. That heavy reminder of what his values of prioritizing order and maintaining the rules had lost him — what he had lost because of his own unwillingness to bend for even you.
...And it brings him back to his second love, Alice. Dear Alice. Poor Alice. Who he failed to properly care for and love. Who he failed to change for. Who he put behind his rules and schedules and his job. Who he's barely had time for since she turned five. Who he's done nothing but fuss at in the little time he did have with her. Who now looks like the spitting image of that kid version of himself who sought nothing more than escape from everything he now clings to. Who barely knows anything about her mother because of him…yet still wishes to help her flee from this terrible situation — from him, who was nothing if not his mother's child.
He had almost lost you all over again...and his darling daughter for the first time ever. The two people he cherished most almost slipped right through his fingertips just like that.
"F- Father?!" The call was as quiet as a baby hedgehog snoring in a teapot, but it had no less been heard. Riddle lifts his face and what he's met with is blurred colors meshing together and a verbal confirmation which tells him, "You're crying.."
He knew she was right by the feeling of warm wetness that slid down his face and the stuttering breath that followed, but still reached up to pat at his cheek anyways. When they came back soaked in his translucent sadness, he did the only thing he could think of doing in the moment; apologize.
"...I'm sorry," He whispers out, first at the closed pendent then again at Alice, "I truly am sorry.."
He does it again, first at his daughter, "I-.. I'm so sorry, Alice..." then again at the closed pendent now clutched in his shaky palms, "I'm so sorry, Y/n..."
Then a third final time, fragile as a thinning thread slowly snapping, "I'm sorry you had to do this... I- I'm sorry that I was being so horrible that you two had to run from your home...from me…but please.. Please don't leave..!"
"I snapped at you a lot. I wasn't there most times you likely needed me to and always made you cry when I was here. I was harsh on you when it came to punishments and barely gave you time to breathe, I know…!"
"..I'm overbearing and controlling and no better than my mother and I know it's unbearable for you, but please...don't walk out the door!" He clutches the pendant close to his chest, his other arm coming up to wipe at his eyes, "I'll do anything just please don't leave me alone..! I wouldn't be able to bear losing people I care about a second time so please...!"
The thread finally snaps. Everything he's kept wound up tightly, at long last, unravels. Riddle Rosehearts, in the end, breaks in such a childish, selfish, and undisciplined way that his mother would surely scoff at him if she was to bear witness to this.
The ominous, unapproachable air around him disappears as the imaginary crown tilts off his head, breaking the image of the hotheaded, scary queen and brushing away the shattered glass to reveal a young boy chained down by his past and now present mistakes... And upon witnessing such a thing happening to the man who had wronged her time and time again, Alice, with tears filling her own eyes, ran forth to hug Riddle for the first time in months.
She didn't wipe his tears, she didn't accept his pathetic apologies…but she didn't leave. She bawled all night long in her father's arms, but never once thought of walking through that door and leaving him to cry on that floor alone.
The next morning, Alice woke up to a blaring headache and the syrupy smell of vanilla. Truly a disorienting feeling.
She stumbled out of bed with a dizzying air surrounding her every step. Her brain pulsated angrily in her skull like a steady reminder of what had transpired earlier that morning — her father's red, teary-eyed distress coming to mind and lingering like a pest she doesn't have the heart to squash.
She checks the clock out of habit and freezes up when she realizes it was a little over eight, which officially deemed her a breaker of rule forty-seven which states that all members of the house must rise by six-thirty and be sat for breakfast by seven.
Immediately, she's flying into the bathroom to make herself decent, already picturing her father's angry face which surely awaited her downstairs.
...Or so she thought.
When she came speed-walking into the kitchen with her prepared apology hanging halfway out of her mouth, she expected to see her father waiting for her with an angry foot tapping away impatiently. Yet instead, she was surprised with the sight of her former babysitter, Trey Clover, mixing a bowl of batter in his arms and a banned Ace Trappola going back and forth with her father, who was currently eye level with a cup of sugar.
"Gosh, if I knew it'd take you this long to measure some measly grains of sugar, I would've done it myself," Ace commented with crossed arms, earning a scowl from the redhead.
"It takes time to be precise," He said, "Each ingredient must be measured at least three times to ensure their proportions are correct. It'll completely throw off the balance if—"
"A few extra grains of sugar ain't gonna change anything," Ace cuts off, "And if it weren't obvious enough, we're kinda on a time crunch here. With that ridiculous schedule you force on her, Alice'll probably be up any..."
In his fire-fueled rant, Ace's eyes dart off in the direction of the kitchen's entranceway where his eyes find Alice, wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape. It’s then that his words die on his tongue as if a bucket of water had been poured onto it and, upon noticing this, Riddle looks over at him once again.
"What is..." He begins to say, only for his words to drown when he finally notices the little girl, to which the only thing he could muster was a small, "..oh."
This catches Trey's attention and makes him finally look away from what he was doing, but unlike the other two, when he sees the girl, he smiles and greets her warmly, "Good morning, Alice. I hope you slept well."
"M- Morning..." She pushes out, and after a small pause, asks, "Why are you here, Uncle Trey? …Uncle Ace too… I thought Father banned you from ever coming around."
That gets a frown out of the ginger — who clearly did not take kindly to the title she had given him — but before he can say anything, Trey speaks first, "Well your father called me this morning asking for instructions on how to make my double-layered strawberry pancakes that you love and I offered to come over and help him. As for Ace..."
He looks over at the man, ushering him to give the remainder of the explanation he didn't know the answer to. A terrible mistake, because as soon as he passes Ace the metaphorical microphone, a grin that spells humiliation for Riddle makes its way onto his face.
"Well if you just had to know, your darling daddy over here begged me," He said smugly, "You should've heard him, he was all like, 'Please oh please forgive my previous outburst! I desperately need your help Ace oh please aid me!' and 'Oh Ace, you're soooo much better at dealing with kids than I am, can you please come over and—!’"
”I did no such thing!" Red faced and shrieking with embarrassed rage, Riddle cuts Ace off with a glare that could very well kill — an expression that immediately dies the moment his daughter's eyes shift over to him.
She stares, obviously looking for answers to the remaining elephants in the room and Riddle, like some nervous schoolgirl, breaks their eye contact with a blush doting his cheeks as he returns to the measuring cup in his hand to temporarily relieve himself of the sudden pressure he felt under her gaze.
Alas, that moment to breathe didn't last long. As soon as he turned his back to her, Ace moved closer to him and swiped the cup of sugar from his grasp, spinning him around with his other hand before he could stop him.
He glances back at Ace with a mixed expression of irritation and unease and what he received in return was a narrowed gaze that told him that he didn’t have any way of escaping this. He then looked towards Trey in some piteous plea for help only to receive an apologetic smile and a nod in Alice's direction that urged him to say something.
Finally, he returns his gaze back to Alice. Adorable little Alice, whose collar was only halfway folded downwards and socks were of differing patterns and lengths. Whose hair strands were still flying away at the top and whose eyes still hung with exhaustion, but also from the worry that her shock couldn’t override. Whose entire being was so obviously filled with dread despite it being so early in the morning.
Riddle wonders how many times she's greeted him at the dining table like this. Wonders how many times she’s nervously fiddled with her hands and was too scared to ask him things. How many times she woke up in a panic thinking she overslept or how frazzled she surely was after surviving yet another morning with him without receiving punishment. How many times he didn't notice or brushed it off as normal or disobedience.
His heart strains at the thought, but it feels as though he was full on speared through the heart when Alice bows her head submissively.
"I'm sorry, father," She mutters, "I've broken another rule again. Please forgive me..."
She was waiting for it. His signature phrase. His denouncement and punishment and fury...yet what she received instead was something she never once thought was capable for her father: soft reassurance.
"...It's alright," He told her, and Alice’s eyes blew wide all over again as she heard him say, "I- I... If it weren't for you dealing with my sudden outburst last night, you probably wouldn't have been so tired that you slept through your alarm.."
"That said—" Alice raises her head to look at him with owlish surprise and he hesitates again as, just for a moment, his nerves get the better of him. Alice notices which only adds onto her evergrowing shock.
"Th- That said," He tries again, folding his arms over one another so that his fingers could tap away at his bundle of nerves through the upper part of his arm, "I thought it over last night and this morning and... I've noticed the errors in many things and have decided to fix them by revamping the household rules."
"Revamp....the rules?" The words sounded absurd leaving her lips. Unreal. Unnatural. Utterly unbelievable. Something straight out of a dream...was she still dreaming? She almost wanted to pinch herself and check.
"It's nothing major," Riddle adds upon noticing his daughter's bewilderment, "Throughout the week, you will still be expected to follow all three-hundred rules that have been set in place, but...you now get two post-meal snacks instead of one on Mondays and Wednesdays....and on Tuesdays, you're no longer required to wear red to school and are allowed to wear your favorite bow. One day out of the month is now required to be spent with family and no work or school is allowed during that time for any reason...and on the weekends, if behaved throughout the week, breakfast and dinner are children's choice..."
Alice couldn't believe the words flying from her father's lips. She had to be dreaming, she thought. No way was this happening! After all, miracles like this only occurred in those silly fairytales the babies at her school would read during free time! Any second now, this false reality her mind has conjured up will fade away and she'll wake up to her actual reality filled with unforgiving rules and her terribly strict father.
She waits. A full minute passes yet nothing changes. She's still standing at the heart-shaped entranceway. Ace and Trey still stand in the kitchen with small smiles on their faces. Her father is still murmuring out changes and new additions to the rules. Nothing around them blurs or changes to support her suspicions that this heaven was all in her head...
"...so this is actually real?" She didn't mean to, but she ended up saying those words aloud for all three men to hear. Riddle falls silent and the look he gives is simply too softened. Like his heart was breaking in real time. Trey's face, already relaxed, had eased into an even gentler expression, his smile widening as he nodded at the girl.
In the end, Ace was the one to break the silence. His smile grew into a toothy grin as he handed off the cup of sugar to Trey and walked over to her, "You bet! There'll be some new changes around here and it’s all ‘cause you made the queen finally realize how much of a tyrant she was acting! ..That makes two of us, actually." He told her, earning a curious head tilt from Alice and a throat clearing sound from Riddle that warned him that he was, once again, crossing a line he shouldn't.
That's when Trey finally stepped in again, "How about you help us out with making breakfast? We could use the extra set of hands."
"Yeah, desperately. If we leave the help up to your father, we'll be here 'til lunch."
"I'm growing tired of your mouth, Ace!" Riddle hissed though clenching teeth and Ace replied to him by sticking his tongue out. Truly a childish sight the two were together, but it was a sight that quickly became a favorite in the little girl's mind. ‘Who knew someone like her father could act in such a way?’, she thought as another fit of giggles broke free from her.
"I can help!" Alice finally said as she, to Riddle's surprise, skips past Ace and up to him, grabbing both his hands with her tinier ones.
"Can I help, father?" She asked just to be sure, staring up at him with her cheeks chubbed by her grin and her moon grey eyes sparkling as if little stars had suddenly inhabited them.
How was he ever to find the power to refuse her?
"Of course, but you must change into attire that's more appropriate for the kitchen," He said, before he realizes what he's doing and stiffens up again, "Ah..only if you want. I- I won't condemn you for it if you’d like to remain in the clothes you have on right now.."
"I'll change!" Alice chirps, "But before I do, you need to come down here!"
"Alright.." Riddle complies, his brows knitting together and his expression scrunching up into a confused one as he bends a knee and cautiously asks, "Why did you—"
Dampened lips tickle the skin of his cheek in a brief flutter. A kiss had been laid upon his cheek by Alice followed by a tight hug. Her body was warm against his, heated by the happiness she felt in that moment, and Riddle — having never felt an embrace from her quite like this one — froze.
"I'm glad I didn't leave," She whispered as her head fell on his shoulder, "And I'm sorry I tried to take momma away from you again."
There was a moment of silence as Riddle let her words sink in, finally returning her hug when the moment passed.
"Don't apologize. I'm the one who needs to.." He whispers back like a quiet weep, leaning his head into the crook of her neck as he murmured against her skin, "I had driven you to that point.. You had only done what you thought best at the time and I'm sorry it came to that.."
Finally, he told her, "I'll work on it. The rules, how I treat you, my ridiculous work schedule, being a better father to you... I promise to change it all for you...and mom. I swear to become someone you both can be happy to be around again."
Alice giggles into his clothing and, knowing how extreme the man can get when he's serious like this, tells him, "Hehe…~ Don't change too much! There's still a lot I love about this version of you, father. I'm sure momma feels the same way."