Chapter Text
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An entourage of playing cards gathered by the border of Wonderland. Each one craning their necks, straining their ears for a glimpse into the conversation, patiently waiting until they are called. Lizzie had asked for a one on one goodbye, but they insisted. It was allowed, for the White Knight was not only a friend of the royals but of the whole of Wonderland. Even the weather seemed to weep for the kingdom's loss, harsh winds and snow had dominated the skies since the news rattled throughout.
Lizzie pulls her hood over tighter, a futile attempt at keeping the cold away. A silver helmet stares at Lizzie, Lizzie’s own face frowns back at her, dulled and distorted in the steel. A clink. The owner removes it and platinum hair spills out in thick waves from under.
For perhaps the last time, Lizzie looks at Darling.
The Charming family are well renowned. Incredibly diligent, years of training, true blue bloods bred for destiny’s very beck and call. For one to have offered their services to Wonderland was uncalled for. It was the scum on the underside of Ever After. But Darling loved it, and Wonderland loved her back. Lizzie’s rule had allowed them to keep it their little secret. Darling was always beautiful, but as the snow fell on her perfectly curled lashes, she seemed to hold an almost ethereal quality.
Lizzie had grown fond of her, she had hoped Darling returned the sentiment. Darling’s glassy blue eyes held nothing behind them as she calmed the whinnying steed beside her. She was an enigmatic puzzle that no one could seem to crack. Darling held out the last of the armour, a click from Lizzie’s gloved hands and in a rush it was swept off and away. Without the clunky armour to protect her, Darling looked like a ghost. Lizzie half worried these breezes would snap her in half.
Darling pulled on a blinding white coat, her hair almost glowing against it. Pairs of golden buttons lined down its front, golden trims along stiff shoulders. Lizzie was not well versed in Ever After but the Charming regalia was undeniable. It seemed almost military compared to the playfully frilled garments of other royals. Lizzie was so used to seeing the White knight in dented armour, The Heart’s own family crest blurred under mud, blood, scorch marks, whatever trouble Darling had gotten into. This new outfit seemed to drown her, much too big and bulky in all the wrong places. Perhaps the tailor had no time to take it in from Daring’s measurements to Darling’s. Perhaps he was ordered not to.
“I’ve got to go.”
“I know.”
“I’m not…” Darling swallows back a thought. “I would have rather liked to stay.”
“I’m aware.”
Darling scoffs a half laugh.
“I would stay here. Or run away somewhere entirely new. I’m not sure I’m quite fit for…” A pause. “It.”
“She needs you.”
“I know. She needs me right now. Or anyone. She needs an anchor.”
“I think it’s the right thing.”
Darling gives a nod. Perhaps half reassuring herself. Lizzie dared to think perhaps Darling needed this anchor too, something, anything to keep her from constantly running away.
“Thank you for your service. To The Court of Hearts and to The Kingdom of Wonderland.”
“It’s been a pleasure. Goodbye your majesty.”
With a swift elegance, Darling mounts the horse, muttering softly to it as it braces for the weather. She falters for a minute, her eyes scanning over a place she once considered home. “I’ll write.” The words spoken so gently, it's almost lost in the wind. Lizzie’s pursed lips falter, her lashes blink away tears, never more grateful prying eyes have been banished to the sidelines. With a sharp kick on the flank, she fled, disappearing into the heavy winter fog. The White Knight left and the weather with it. Wonderland had refused to snow since.
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The chequered floor blurring into a grey as it often did when Lizzie was not paying attention to her surroundings. A click of heels echo in the hallways as she scuffles about. Lizzie enters through the golden heart arches into the study. The study was much cooler than the rest of the rooms in summer. With a thwump a pile of letters finds its home on her desk. Wonderlandian weather was unpredictable. Raining cats and dogs and then. Heat. An unbelievably foul heat. Lizzie’s velvet robes did nothing to help, layered thick in royal garments made her neck break out a thin sheen of sweat. It was awfully hot. Awfully hot. Her grunts of annoyance were apparent as she sliced open the first envelope with one swish. The eternal summer started when the White Knight left and the days in Wonderland seemed to stretch on and on. But they were safe. Wonderland has been perfectly stable these past few years. Which was not the ideal. There was no White Knight. There was no Jabberwock. No. It never seemed to come. Perhaps its last banishment had gone far away, no narrators, nothing to put her out the bother. Alistair had come and gone, Lizzie played her role. The charade of destiny was substantially fulfilled and now Wonderland seemed to stretch an age. Once she had longed to return here and now it was rather normal.
Political Correspondence was dreadfully dull. But with her new reign, Lizzie set to open Wonderland to other kingdoms, to not have it not be so closed off. She was hoping, in turn, that with a more friendly attitude, perhaps Wonderland’s reputation could be seen in a brighter light. This was a new chapter after all. With Wonderland allowing people to return and the threat of evil vanquished, a new harmony could potentially exist. A more welcoming atmosphere than her mother’s formidable iron grip. But unfortunately this required piles and piles of polite, nothing letters. Letters that updated who knows what on who cares Lizzie thought. It was rather nonsense, and Lizzie loved nonsense. Though perhaps her way and rules were also nonsense in return to the poor princess who read her scrawled writing. Lizzie could never quite get through to anyone at any time. She had spent most of her time at Ever After what felt like communicating through a thick wall of glass that no one else could quite ever see. Her mother’s deck of rules following cards seemingly futile to the social rules that they followed in the overworld. The who, what to say, what not to say, the why, the when, the how, it all jumbled Lizzie’s head in an overly complicated game of chess where the rules change by the second. It worked in some’s favour, Maddie had done particularly well. Her wonderland attitude wasn’t maddening and confusing, it was quirky. Cute. Whereas it made Lizzie seem…
“Standoffish.”
“Perhaps you're too… standoffish.”
Those were the words Duchess had said. Her roommate said the words casually in their shared bathroom, half-heartedly patting Lizzie on the back as she hunched over sobbing, far too many drinks in, and far too many tears. Lizzie had found it rather hypocritical, especially considering the swan princess’ own attitude. But, perhaps it was true. Perhaps she was too proud. Too awkward to be invited to parties, or to sit with the other girls at lunch, to be in group chats, or even just checked in on. But after the buzz had faded the following morning, Lizzie, through a splitting headache, made sure to tell Duchess she was only upset as she was:
“Homesick.”
That’s why she was standoffish. Why she was proud. Why she was so awkward.
“I’m just homesick.”
Wonderland was impossible to get to those years. It was at risk of everything, poisoned water, treason, the Jabberwock. It was much too dangerous for people to enter, or for people to leave. But, Lizzie had hoped she would return one day. That’s what she told herself, she’s not making friends cause she’ll have to leave them soon. It was a matter of convenience.
Now she was back home, even the others have gone. Maddie chose to flit between her and there and everywhere. She had grown quite fond of Bookend, her tea shop was rather a success. Even if Lizzie wished to return. She could not leave a throne empty. So Lizzie continued. Morning walks. Chess. Policy making. Tea time. Card building. Croquet. Evening walks. Now she was home and it was all easy. Too easy. There was no resistance anymore. Her entourage of yes men waddled around, stumbling over themselves, tripping to be at every beck and call. Lizzie could swear their heads were growing lopsided from nodding all day.
Perhaps a companion would be nice, someone to argue with. To show through the gardens, the grove, his golden hair catching in the sunlight. His hand in mine. His arm round my waist. His eyes pleading, desperate. He was scared. Distorted shrieks echo out, monstrous howls contorted throughout hallways, the gardens, whipped into a frenzy in mind numbingly high bursts. It’s deafening now.
A sharp pain.
Lizzie winces, touching her temple, her fingers finding a small scar. Noticeable to the eye only if pointed out, but Lizzie knew it was there. She remembered noticing it while applying makeup one day, how her brush bumped over something. Lizzie had no clue how it could have gotten there. She must’ve scratched herself in the night, she supposed. An awful deep scratch. Her mouth grows dry, breaths shaky in her chest as the sound rings to a quiet. Lizzie’s eyes focus back in, the parchment before her on the dark wooden desk. The musky smell of books, a hint of rose. Lizzie’s stomach churns, each new thought slotting together. It blurs, a distant dream forgotten on the dawn's rise. The heat perhaps, or madness finally came to get her. Lizzie’s hand finds the quill again, ink blotching onto the page. Fuck. A scream, she shoves the letters onto the floor, the ink pot tumbling with it shattering on the chequered floor. The shards twinkle in the summer light,her hand feels something sharp and jagged pushing deep into the delicate palm of her hand. She watches the ink seep out, trickling from the black to the white, to the black, to the white, the black, the black, the black, it envelopes the floor, her vision. Until it all goes.
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