Chapter Text
Granted, usually Riddle would have made no exceptions to any and all rules and would’ve debated throwing an “Off With Your Head!” at the mere threat of it. But he had changed since then—for the better, he hoped, even if only gradually. He had learned, still learning, to be more lenient and to extend that leniency outward from time to time. To afford others certain deserved courtesies and “be a little more considerate,” as Trey had once put it. So he liked to think he wasn’t quite so severe as before. It was well after curfew when he and Trey sat in the common room, helping Cater cram for his Ancient and Modern Magic History assessment test.
“—and so #InDifferentiatingAncientAndModernMagicSemiotics #ExamineTheFormula #ModalUsed #AndMaterialOfTheSurface #RememberThatAncientMagicSemioticsWhileVaryAcrossEras #HasCertainSharedComponentsThatModernMagicSemioticsDoNotHave—Cater!”
Cater jerked awake, his cheek sliding off his knuckles at the shout. The look he gave him was sheepish and bleary-eyed. “Sorry, sorry. Dozed off there, Riddle.”
Riddle leveled him with a glare. “Was I boring you? Should I apologize after taking the time to help you at your request?”
Truthfully, Riddle hadn’t minded tailoring study guides and Magicam posts for Cater. Happy to, in fact. He did, however, expect his efforts to be appreciated.
“Course not, Riddle!” Cater stammered, raising a hand as if it were a shield. “Like, T-Y-S-M, Riddle, you’re a lifesaver! But we’ve been at this for, like, a while, and I don’t think I can keep my eyes open any longer. Think it’s time for all of us to catch some Z’s?”
With a glance toward the grandfather clock across the room, his temper evaporated.
2:48 a.m.
He hadn’t noticed how many hours had slipped by.
The sound of him shutting his book woke Trey, who had fallen asleep on the couch opposite them. Riddle hadn’t even noticed him falling asleep either. “Yes,” he began, now feeling contrite. Riddle gathered the books into a neat stack, with notes and colorful bookmarks sticking out between the pages in every direction. When you think you have enough, you never do, so he made a mental note to restock. “It’s best we all turn in for the night.”
His words came gentler this time because Trey, at the very least, did not deserve any sharp remarks from him.
“Right. Bed,” Trey murmured groggily, rubbing his eyes.
Cater was by his side soon enough, hooking one of Trey’s arms over his shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Trey. Cay-Cay’s got you.”
He’d say it was very considerate, but Cater offered so with that perpetual teasing note that never seemed to leave his voice. Trey pulled away and lightly batted Cater’s chest. “No thanks.”
Riddle rose to his feet when he caught Trey make a stumble.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Trey insisted quickly, pulling on the same small smile he always used to reassure everyone. Riddle found himself more irritated with himself for not ending the study session earlier.
“Come on, Trey, buddy, you look one trip away from giving the floor a good smooch,” said Cater, earning an eye roll in return.
“All I need’s a second. Just a little dizzy. And just because I’m tired doesn’t mean I’m…” Strangely, his words trailed off. Gaze drifting past them as his expression pulled to a quizzical look. “Is that Ace and Deuce?”
Following Trey’s gaze, Cater’s eyes lit up, suddenly more awake. “Now what’s the Hunting Season up to?”
Riddle whipped his head around just in time to catch a glimpse of Ace disappearing past the corridor archway after Deuce. And what exactly were they up to?
Ace and Deuce wandering about after curfew was a sign of trouble, if his judgment was worth anything. There was no reason for them—especially them—to be out this late without informing him beforehand. So this was either abrupt or a scheme. An abrupt scheme, perchance.
Not on his watch. Riddle immediately strode after them.
The haphazardly checkered floors echoed the sharp click of his heels as he moved through the familiar halls—lopsided and never evenly lit, whether by day or night, with the few ever-burning lamps, candles, and sconces scattered throughout the dorm. Misshapen frames and clocks (charmed to keep silent at night) littered the walls without any sense of order, accompanied by crooked furniture and florid décor. Upon introspection, one might find it odd that a dorm inspired by the Queen of Hearts’ spirit of “strictness” would look this way. To Riddle, it carried the familiarity reminiscent of many parts and traditions of home. “The order within disorder,” he liked to think of it as.
At the end of the dark corridor lingered the culprits: Ace beside an oddly puzzled-looking Deuce, who kept shuffling and glancing around, searching. Had he lost something?
Riddle’s voice rang out, sharp and sudden like a whip crack through the hall.
“And what do you two think you’re doing?”
The pair jumped and spun around.
Guilty.
To Deuce’s credit, he looked genuinely abashed and apologetic. Ace merely looked inconvenienced. Typical. “I highly doubt whatever business you have warrants being out this late after curfew,” Riddle cut in before either could launch into excuses. “I strongly suggest you turn back at once.”
For a brief moment, Riddle thought that would be the end of it until Cater inexplicably stepped forward.
“Hold on just an eensy bit, Housewarden. I’d say I’m a little curious. Why don’t we let Deucey here explain a bit, yeah?” Cater suggested ‘innocently.’
Riddle shot Cater a look but kept quiet, only because he was mildly curious himself. Mildly. And it was as good a time as any for the exercise, he supposed. Leniency. Courtesy. Try and be a little more considerate. Though they had best not test his patience. After a sharp elbow from Ace, Deuce hesitantly spoke up.
“We’re… honestly, I’m not sure,” he admitted, making Riddle narrow his eyes. “There’s this… gut feeling that there’s something I need to check? Find?”
A… gut feeling?
Really?
Had it been Ace, Riddle would have dismissed the whole thing outright. Deuce, however, generally meant well and, at this moment, looked determined. Determined to do what, exactly, Riddle didn’t know. His thoughts were likely being misled, and Ace, likely, the culprit.
Ace immediately took offense at the suspicious look directed his way. “I did nothing, this was all him!” he shot, bristling. “I told him to sleep it off but instead he goes off on his own. If anything, I’m making sure Deucey here doesn’t hurt himself.”
Very believable, Riddle thought, crossing his arms.
Just as he decided the exercise had officially reached its limit—Deuce punching Ace’s arm and the two dissolving into muttered bickering—came another incredulous statement from Cater.
“We’ll help, then.”
Riddle shot Cater another look, to which Cater, in return, gave him another ‘innocent,’ sheepish smile.
Whatever happened to “catch some Zs?”
Trey evidently shared the same thought and followed it up. “Can’t this continue in the morning?”
“F-T-R, I’d argue it is morning—” At Riddle’s deepening glare, Cater hurried on. “—Why don’t you two turn in and get some well-deserved shut-eye? You two have been working all day, all week, practically 24/7 being vice and housewarden and all, so how about we let little ol’ Cater deal with this one?”
What is this?
Trey raised a brow, voicing Riddle’s exact question aloud. “And why exactly?”
“What? Can’t a nice senior just want to help his juniors?”
Riddle found the display rather duplicitous and forgoed rolling his eyes. Ace did not, doing so with a flared nose.
“You? I don’t think so.”
“Poo, Trey. That hurts. Right here.”
He sighed. “Well, I don’t mind staying up longer, so I—we’ll all join, then?” Trey glanced toward Riddle and, after receiving a nod, continued, “We all want to help Deuce—”
“Screw me, huh? Only whatever Deucey needs?”
“—and Ace, when he needs it. So, Deuce—Deuce?”
Apparently, they all needed to work on their spatial awareness.
Deuce had disappeared.
Ace whipped toward them.
“See? Up and left on his own—what’d I tell you!”
After sending Ace a warning look, promptly zipping him shut, Riddle jogged over to Cater who was waving them toward the stairwell.
Unease stirred.
Heartslabyul was large, as all the dorms were, capable of housing well over a hundred students and containing multiple common rooms and facilities. Unlike the others, however, their dorm was uniquely nonsensical and labyrinthine. Corridors twisted into dead ends, staircases led nowhere, doors varied wildly in shape and size, and more. Even after committing the layout to memory, Riddle occasionally found himself retracing his steps. Though never confirmed, some claimed the corridors moved. Something was always different about the halls and rooms each day—the objects, frames, even the wallpaper. Coupled with how uncannily alike many parts of the dorm looked, it was enough to cause frustration.
You grow used to it after a while. For Riddle, it had taken less than a day. He had been advised to allow others more leeway, though in practice, he reserved that leniency for last-minute summons alone. He expected the students of Heartslabyul to already account for their dorm’s peculiarities. Failing to do so was no fault but their own. Fortunately, those peculiarities did not seem to be the issue as they followed after Deuce.
Still, the unease remained. Deuce was not the sort to wander off without a word, much less alone.
Farther down the circling staircase, they eventually found him in one of the duller common rooms—an unpopular one, largely due to its location deep within the dorm’s quieter, more vacant stretches. He stood motionless before a full-length mirror mounted against a wall.
“Deuce?” Riddle called out cautiously as he and the others neared.
He looked further disoriented for some unknown reason. Not only that, he didn’t seem aware of them or of his own reflection, his gaze somehow looking past it and toward the mirror itself, mumbling to himself as he slowly raised his hand.
“I… need to…”
His fingers drifted closer to the glass.
Closer.
Until—
He vanished.
Before any of them could react, Riddle’s vision plunged into black.
.
For a while, there was nothing but darkness, as though he had been shut in and left wandering blindly through a dark room. He had no bearings, and his hearing felt muffled, as if submerged underwater. The others’ voices sounded distant and distorted.
Slowly, colors began to drift in and out of view.
Phosphenes?
Not quite.
It felt almost as though he were standing on a stage.
Then…
A choir?
An orchestra? A grand fanfare. There was a glissando and choral, climbing higher and higher until he could just make out the words:
“Alice in Wonderland…
How do you get to Wonderland?
Over the hill or Underland
Or just behind the tree…”
Finally, a view began to fill in.
A world unfolded before his eyes, a sight that reminded him of the outskirts of home rolling out like a carpet, painted suddenly into existence: a picturesque lake, a river, and brooks emerging beneath the lilac haze of a spring afternoon. Trees and wildflowers in full bloom ran along the banks; a taupe stone bridge and a distant tower stood further off.
“Where can it be?
Where do stars go?
Where is the crescent moon?
They must be somewhere in the sunny afternoon…
Alice in Wonderland…
Where is the path to Wonderland?
Over the hill or here or there?
I won…der… where…”
Bees, birds, and butterflies drifted lazily through the air as the music—coming from somewhere—carried on.
Bewilderment was one way to put it, as were bafflement and confusion. With an exasperated sigh, alarm melted from him as he straightened. His shoes sank into tall emerald grass, wild daisies all around.
A tomfoolery that begins with… song and tranquil scenery was doubtfully alarming. Troublesome, certainly, as all tomfoolery was, but not alarming. Definitely not terrible, and there didn’t seem to be any immediate danger. That did not, however, mean he intended to allow this ludicrosity to continue any longer. What in the Sevens is this, and where in the Sevens are they? Cater, meanwhile, looked ecstatic over the turn of events and was already pulling out his phone, lauding over the view. The others gradually shook themselves from their stupor.
“That song…” Trey’s eyes furrowed, lips slightly agape as he continued absorbing the scenery in disbelief and drifting closer to Riddle. “It sounds similar to the ones back home, but I’ve never heard it before. And this place… there’s a park that looks exactly like this one, isn’t there?”
Riddle wouldn’t know.
Even during visits home, he remained confined indoors, furthering his studies and reporting to his mother. He remembered the first time he had… raised a grievance against her, about how he had wanted to spend his time, among others. It had been a long-overdue conversation, one that had quickly become exactly what he feared and still had to push through. A dispute.
For the remainder of winter break, he alternated between staying with Trey’s family and enduring strained exchanges with his mother over the matter. She had calmed somewhat, but the discussion was far from over and likely would be for quite some time. Trey and his family had been more than kind enough to house and bear with him through it all.
There had been something of a positive note, he thought. During his most recent visit, he and his mother had gone to a summer camp together. It was awkward, yes, but he was glad for it. He was grateful to her, after and despite everything, and didn’t have it in himself to resent her.
They best find a way out, was what Riddle intended to say when a woman’s voice doled out.
Not far away, a madame sat at the base of a tree, reading from a book. It was as though she and the tree had materialized from thin air, just as the world itself had, along with the rolling hills literally unfurling behind her. She was dressed in purple and blue, her clothing strikingly old-fashioned, and held herself with the elegance and grace of a noblewoman—which he might as well assume—her posture straight and composed.
She looked as though she had stepped straight out of an oil painting.
A better start than nothing, Riddle thought as he stepped forward. He had questions and wanted answers. Explanations. Assistance, ideally. However, not once did her eyes lift toward him, merely continuing to read aloud.
“Madam?”
“…leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to usurpation and conquest—”
“Madam!”
On his third attempt, an even louder cry, it garnered him… something.
Almost a reaction, but evidently… not.
Her head bobbed slowly.
“Not now, please, I’m…”
Her voice softened, and the corners of her lips curled faintly for a brief moment. Riddle’s thin thread of hope cut clean as she shook her head and continued reading. Not once did her eyes glance his way. Yet she had heard him. And yet, not fully. It was as though she were aware of him only in passing, or as though his presence scarcely reached her at all.
Unease returned, stirring once more in his chest as he stepped back.
Riddle pinched himself.
Not a dream.
It was then that a little girl materialized, perched upon a low branch above the madame. With blond hair, a blue dress, an apron—
Riddle gaped.
It can’t… it couldn’t be…
The little girl…
The Lady in Blue?
“—Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him, and even Stigand… Alice!” the madame clipped sternly, pushing away the foot swinging beside her bonnet.
“Hmm? Oh, I’m listening,” the Lady in Blue—Alice—sighed.
She most certainly was not. She was neither paying attention nor dozing off. Instead, Alice busied herself lazily weaving a daisy crown. Riddle’s jaw tightened, upset on the madame’s behalf and thoroughly taken aback.
The sight not only offended him—it bordered on sacrilege. NRC might not celebrate the Lady in Blue’s prominence, believing her legacy belonged more to their rival school as the Innocent Adventurer, but she remained renowned throughout the Queendom of Roses. His expression tightened further when the flower crown Alice placed atop her kitten subsequently toppled onto the madame.
“Alice!” she interrupted Alice’s giggles, pulling the crown off. “Will you kindly pay attention to your history lesson?”
History lesson? Riddle felt a flicker of qualm for not recognizing any of the names from the supposed history book the madame had been reciting from. Alice, meanwhile, did not care in the slightest.
“I’m sorry, but how can one possibly pay any attention to a book with no pictures in it?” Alice replied, hand twiddling her hair.
The flippant remark caused Trey to chuckle. “That sounds like something my little siblings would say,” he whispered.
Riddle could picture it. During his stay, the two often complained whenever he brought out a book or launched into a lecture. (He caught himself and fell quiet—Trey quickly moving to berate his siblings—feeling a twinge of hurt after being called a bore). It was something he had once heard Chenya say as well, nearly word for word. He could think of several others who would agree just as readily. Ace and Deuce, oddly enough, still looked dazed.
The two, the madame and Alice, fell into a short exchange, eventually leading Alice into a monologue about nonsense, and Riddle meant that literally. Alice was rambling on about Nonsense.
“That’s it, Dinah! If I had a world of my own,” she declared, bobbing a finger toward her cat for emphasis, “everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrariwise, what it is, it wouldn’t be, and what it wouldn’t be, it would. You see?”
No, he did not. And he thought her musings were rubbish.
Alice, however, could neither hear his thoughts nor was aware of his and his companions’ presence. She hopped down from the branch and curtsied to her cat, Dinah, an orange kitten with a pink bow tied behind her head. Dinah, her bow, reminded him of Grim, who was adamant that he was, in fact, not a cat.
“In my world, you wouldn’t say ‘meow.’ You’d say, ‘Yes, Miss Alice.’”
Dinah, naturally, let out the plain, plaintive cry of an ordinary kitten.
“Oh, but you would!” Alice chattered, scooping Dinah into her arms. “You’d be just like people, Dinah, and all the other animals too. Why, in my world… cats and rabbits would reside in fancy little houses…”
Her voice tapered into song, the unknown instruments and wordless choral still somewhere in the background following as accompaniment, as she wandered toward the flowerbeds before quaintly dropping among them.
This is…
“Ain’t she a cutie?” came a light remark from Cater. While the comment was directed at Alice, the object of his attention was the kitten. He was crouched nearby, recording Dinah while dangling a stray flower in front of her. “Cuties,” he corrected.
“They don’t seem to be aware of us,” said Trey, waving a hand in front of the madame’s face. Riddle reflexively shouted at him to put his hand away—even if they were scarcely acknowledged, they still ought to mind their manners. Stepping back with an apologetic look, Trey continued, “Except for… Dinah, was it?”
He crouched beside Cater and offered the kitten a gentle hand. After a wary pause, Dinah cautiously pawed at his fingers.
“Cuteness overload alert!”
Cater’s loud exclamation startled the kitten, sending her darting back toward Alice. Trey’s warning look carried no real ire, a smile still present on one corner of his lips.
Riddle immediately grabbed his wand and cast a light wind spell. He held back a groan, seeing no sign of sharp sweeps of wind. He then grabbed his phone test next. No signal. Just Great. This was looking more and more like the time he got stuck on that tropical island (with Floyd, he shuddered).
This is a waste of his time.
Recalling the town behind the tower, he tucked his wand and phone away. He heavily doubted he’d find a spaceship to get them out of here. “We’ll check the town. See if we can find someone or uncover a clue ourselves. If this is a pocket dimension, there should be a barrier we can’t cross. We’ll divide ourselves and spread out.”
“Biz mode already?” Cater complained, pulling a pout.
“Don’t you have an assessment test to get to?” Unlike Trey, Riddle’s ire was genuine. And growing. “Or was this a plan to defer it? Did you know about this? That talk of wanting to ‘help’—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, Housewarden. Nothing like that, honest.” He raised a peace sign. “I was really curious, see, with Deuce looking a little odd. This place, though? Wow, no words to do it justice. What I meant was maybe we could stay a little longer. We’ve never gotten this lucky with everyone’s sketchy business going around NRC. Why not take some time to relax and enjoy the place?”
There was more to it, and Trey caught on immediately as well.
“Let me guess, something for Magicam?”
“Are you not seeing these aesthetics?” he said shamelessly, utterly unabashed, “My followers would foam at this! Shame about the signal, but hey, I could do with more time to filter and get the best pics, yeah? #PulledThroughAMirror #SurpriseVacation—”
Riddle snapped. “This is not a vacation!”
“Adventure?”
That is—
Cater threw his hands up. “Sorry, sorry.”
He—Riddle released a breath. Cool your temper, Riddle.
The mirror. Right. The mirror. It pulled Deuce in, then the rest of them. Again, it felt similar to the time he had been pulled into that tropical island—a magical book. A magical book with a mirror on its cover. The Hall of Mirrors itself led to pocket dimensions, where their dormitories resided. He hadn’t thought there could be a pocket dimension within another pocket dimension. He might have the schematics wrong, but his point still stood. He would have to bring this up to Headmage Crowley and see to it whether there were other magical mirrors around NRC.
Ace finally struck out of his daze, snapping his head to Deuce.
“Wait—Deuce. Deuce! What you said! What did you say in front of the magic mirror?”
Magic mirror?
Not the Dark Mirror?
“‘It’s a shame it’s broken’?”
“No, the other thing—a wish! You wished!”
“‘I wish it wasn’t broken’?”
Ace flung up an arm and bit out.
“No, rocks for brains! About the Great Seven!”
A dawned realization quickly replaced Deuce’s indignation at the insult.
“Oh! ‘I wished we could’ve seen what the Great Seven were like?’ But that looks like the Lady in Blue, so that wouldn’t make any sense?” he said, brows knitting together.
Riddle felt his fingers curl into his palms.
There had been more they neglected to mention.
These two—these absolute—
“What is this? Explain. Now.”
Riddle sent a scathing look at Cater before he could dare tell him to “calm down.” Calm down, calm down—he had had enough of that.
“Ease up, Housewarden,” Ace was the one who said it instead, and Riddle felt himself ready to blow a fuse. “We’re still trying to figure this out too. It’s been like a week. We didn’t think it’d be related.”
“Related to what?” Trey asked, much gentler in comparison, though not without a certain edge.
At Ace and Deuce's exchanged glance, Riddle barked. “Out with it. I warn you, if I lose my temper, it’s ‘Off With Your Head!’”
Deuce ducked his head accordingly while everyone else, rightly so, does not correct or mention the fact that magic does not work here, lest they want Riddle to turn on them.
“I-I… Ace and me—”
“Ace and I.”
“—Ace and I found ruins. Castle ruins…”
And so Deuce launched into an explanation of how he, Ace, Grim, the Prefect, and their other first-year friends had snuck away during Vargas’s training camp, stumbling upon the ruins of the Fair Queen’s castle—and within it, Her Majesty’s magic mirror.
His anger at them for sneaking away was completely overshadowed by sheer disbelief. Unbelievable. How two troublemaking freshmen had somehow managed to stumble upon a historical site of such significance was beyond Riddle. Ortho’s capabilities and the Prefect’s absurd luck were perhaps easier to believe, but still incredibly difficult to accept.
Thousands—thousands of years, possibly tens of thousands. Enough time to mythologize these figures, and they had found—not a small artifact or relic—but the very ruins of the Fair Queen’s castle? Her Magic Mirror? If someone had told him a year ago this was certain to happen, he would have scoffed and promised to relinquish his position as Housewarden to one of their hedgehogs. At the moment, he was utterly gobsmacked.
The mirror had appeared broken, they explained: the glass shattered, though still lodged in place, the frame rusted and chipped. They had assumed that was the end of it. Apparently not.
“Let me get this right—you’re telling me we’re about to see one of the Great Seven? Live?”
Cater wore a wild, almost manic grin. Riddle understood where it came from, the enthusiasm, though he remained skeptical. Starstruck, certainly, at the possibility—but still skeptical. Trey shared the sentiment.
“This… if Alice here really is the Lady in Blue—which I still have reservations about, but let’s assume for the moment—why would the mirror bring us to her?” Trey asked, echoing Deuce’s earlier remark.
The Lady in Blue in question had now lain beside the brook, staring absently at her reflection. Her chin rested on the backs of her hands as she propped herself up on her elbows.
“Maybe their stories are connected? Isn’t there a theory that the Lady in Blue was the same little girl the Queen of Hearts helped?” suggested Cater.
There was a chance, yes.
However—
“The Lady in Blue rose against a tyrannical ruler. It is abhorrent to even suggest such a thing.”
“Ain’t no way I’m saying that,” Cater assured him. “That’s crazy talk. I’m saying maybe she’ll meet her, the Queen of Hearts, or one of the other Great Seven. There’s a lot of kingdoms, and I don’t know whether they’re from the same time, but it’s possible, no?”
Riddle’s lips pressed into a thin line. The thought that the great figures of myth and legend had existed in the same lifetime, or even interacted, was not unsound. With so much time having passed, history fractured into fragments and much lost to time, it was entirely plausible.
“But why do we have to follow some little girl named Alice? The Lady in Blue or whatever,” Ace sniffed, entirely disillusioned. “Why couldn’t it have dropped us somewhere near the Queen of Hearts herself?”
“Hey, hey, it was your wish,” Cater sing-songed. “Maybe you should’ve been more specific, yeah? O-ho, you better not have monkey-pawed us.”
“Oh yeah?” Ace rounded on Deuce. “Why didn’t you think of that?”
“Hey—”
Riddle turned his attention away from their banter. To Alice, still by the brook with Dinah at her side. She sang the last of her notes while rippling the water with a finger.
“…I could understand. I keep wishing it could be that way, because my world would be a won…der…land…”
Suddenly, the music, the accompaniment, shifted, picking up into a peppier tune. Brisk and whimsy, he’d describe it, compared to the melodies before. And as he looked across the brook—
The White Rabbit.
There was no mistaking him. The servant of the Queen, Her Majesty, and he looked almost exactly like the commemorative topiary standing at the heart of Clock Town. Only almost, because here he was not dressed in a herald’s attire, but instead wore a waistcoat, as Alice commented aloud in surprise.
The White Rabbit pulled out his ‘pocket’ watch—a golden watch nearly as large as he was—then began to sing.
“I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date! No time to say hello, goodbye! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!”
Alice sprang to her feet and hurried after him in pursuit.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I’m overdue. I’m really in a stew. No time to say goodbye, hello! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!”
Deuce immediately followed, kicking up dust in his wake.
The White Rabbit.
Alice.
Something churned in Riddle’s chest.
More than just historical figures and myths, these were idols. Revered—not worshipped, but so close to it, weren’t they? Their whole world was shaped by these figures. Their customs, rules, traditions. All derived from them, one way or another. The people of Twisted Wonderland looked up to them. Riddle did, incredibly so.
Every image and story of the Queen of Hearts carried an air of grandeur and absolute authority. Bringing order and structure to a kingdom that was said to be full of irrational and dissonant people. It was no wonder she was so highly regarded; ruling over such chaos as both monarch and jurist was remarkable. As Housewarden, he wanted to embody her, even if just a sliver of it. He’d read her rules front to back and back again until he could recite all 810 rules from memory, in order or otherwise. He had studied her decrees, her poetry, books on her, and more.
The Lady in Blue, on the other hand, yes, she was respectable, and her stories spoke of wonder and bravery, but in the end, she could hardly compare to Her Majesty. She was only a little girl. An adventurer, certainly, but where were her parents? Then again, he should reconsider those thoughts. For the most part, they had been his mother’s words, not his own.
But was this—Alice—truly the Lady in Blue? Was that really the White Rabbit? So far, neither had impressed him, though he knew he had hardly given them a fair chance. And if they truly were who Riddle presumed them to be...
Would he meet the Queen of Hearts herself?
Sevens, was any of this even real?
He—
Alice, the White Rabbit, and Deuce were about to disappear from his view.
…
It doesn’t matter.
He decided it didn’t matter. Because Riddle resolved not to squander such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Damned if this was all a ruse—he’d make that verdict after.
Riddle ran after them.