Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s a warm May, but not too much so.

The breeze is enough to caress your face as you lie in the grass. The grass sways ever so slightly with the weather, your hair following suit, but never blocking your view.

Inhaling the faintest hint of pollen through the air, you admire the flowering trees swaying in the wind. Their twisty trunks tower over you, providing the perfect amount of shade to balance out the warm sunlight peeping through the leaves.

You smile, messing with a wildflower you just plucked from the ground moments ago. The petals graze your fingertips while your other hand twists the stem.

You shut your eyes, slowing your breathing.

Your shoulders lose their tension, and you feel lighter.

You can hear the chirping of birds fade in and out of earshot. Opening an eye, you see two flying around each other. You close your peeping eye and rest your head against the moss.

Yes.

This is nice.

The air is fresher, the people are more pleasant. The UK is wonderful, now more than ever. Considering you just escaped America for your internship, your start in the industry.

The best time to travel, to experiment, is in your college years. The world is your oyster, and your pockets could never be emptier.

At least the places you’ve worked at provide room and board, with a pay cut, but unfortunately, it’s the experience that counts. It’s what you trade for your youth to climb the corporate ladder: to buy a house.

Regardless, anything is better than America right now.

Even the British countryside is pleasing to look at. The roads are nice, traffic isn’t bad, and things are still very convenient— just better looking.

Hell, even transportation as a whole is easier. Most of the people in London knew that you were American because of the shock on your face when you went on the metro train for the first time.

When worse comes to worst, you can crash out and move here… or to Ireland. Or anywhere else besides America.

You sit up, leaning against the tree trunk. Letting out a happy sigh as you enjoy the first full day of your escape from the reality of your home country.

Opening your eyes, you find that a rabbit hops into view. Cute, a ghostly, pure white, and a waistcoat.

A waistcoat…..

A WAISTCOAT?

Your eyes go wide as it pulls out a ticking pocket watch, its ears spring up, and it starts to bolt. In your direction.

Yelping, you scramble to your feet and trip on the tree roots you were just resting on. Your hands flail around like rogue snakes, slapping the tree trunk for you to fall on. 

Your head flops on your arms, and your knees twist inward. You steady yourself, wobbling against the tree as you gather your bearings. Knees turned inward, you shake off the shock in your heart.

Your name escapes in the beautifully accented voice of your newest colleague, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You straighten up, a few choice bones in your spine popping. You make eye contact with the timid brunette.

“Thank you for checking up on me, Sierra.” She bows her head slightly, slowly closing her eyes before her head bobs back up.

“There’s supposed to be a toast soon,” she tilts her head back to the estate perched on top of the hill behind her. Looming over the complex hedge maze that I got lost in earlier.

“See you there.” Sierra spins on her heels and walks up the steep hill, disappearing behind the hedges of the estate.

“Yeah.” You grunt, wobbling to a normal stand, “See you there.”

…

The garden is lavish the second time you walk through it.

Hedges that are higher than any man could be, topiaries are trimmed to perfection, and not a bug in sight. The numerous pots of red creeping thyme would do that. Sculptures of flawless people in model-like poses accent every twist and turn that this estate provides.

It’s something out of a movie, and yet, it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist in here. What struggles? Surely, there is no strife here; the bliss subdues it all.

Your shoes tap against the intricately carved stepping stones, one measured step in front of each other, you’re trying to avoid leaving footprints in the checkered-patterned clover and grass that this pocket of the maze provides.

A cacophony of laughter bleeds through the garden, your head turns in the direction of the Maze’s heart- the gateway between a large house older than your family tree, furnished with heirlooms worth more than a spoiled young aristocrat with a pension.

You should join them.

It’s not like you’re missed or needed at the moment; it’s a petty cocktail party with the higher-ups. They probably had their arms twisted by HR to appear more appealing and admirable to those at the bottom.

So, you had your cocktail already and are out their sight. You’d rather not deal with the glares and turned-up noses, though it would be the right and mature thing to do.

Though you wouldn’t mind another one, that first one went down so smoothly that you barely remember tasting it. However, the flavor lingering in your mouth begs for another….

“There you are.” You whip your body around, performing an about-face and a talent of tying your ankles together. You nearly fall over before you can see who called for you. (Maybe you shouldn’t go for another cocktail.)

It’s Sierra again, “Come on, the interns are supposed to say a thing or two.” 

Ah, the “What I hope for” speech. There hasn’t been a time or occasion when what you’ve wanted was attempted after a higher-up promised they would. You’ve gotten quite good at lowering your expectations. They might as well be underground at this point.

She takes your hand, “How much did you drink?” She starts pulling you to the nearest turn in the maze. 

“One,” You respond, “I’m just out of shape and uncoordinated.” Your foot gets caught on a stepping stone, and you nearly take Sierra down with you.

“I’d say part of that is true, unless you had a stunt double during the team bonding event this morning.” Ah, she has a point. Only because you did varsity sports all of high school, physical activity kept you sane from everything else there.

Then again, you were only able to spike the ball at your unathletic colleagues because of an ugly mix of a second (or third, you’re not sure) tailwind and adrenaline from excitement with playing the sport. Now, it’s like you’re piloting a different carcass.

“That’s fair.” You muse as she guides you back through the garden, murming about how her boss keeps bitching about the white rose bushes here. What a distinct asshole of an executive to make even an secretary quietly bitch about it.

“I suppose I just lose my depth perception after I drink.” You try to focus on the roses while your mind keeps drifting, the thought of painting the bushes red crosses your mind, but you’re labeling it as an over-tired thought.
“Don’t we all?” She rolls her eyes, “I’d be more concerned if you were hyper aware.”

“I walked into that one, didn’t I?” You smile, trying your best to hide the guilt bubbling in your chest. Your eyes go back to the garden,

“More like stumbled.” She mumbles, and you snort.

“Though, to give credit where it is due, you’ve only been here for….what? 48 hours at this point. You’re exhausted, I know you are.”

“I am.” You say, knowing jet lag could be a big player in your current demise, “I don’t remember getting off the plane.” 

“That’ll do it.” She sighs, “I don’t know how you Americans do it.” 

“We just do, Sierra, we just do.” You look at the hedge archway ahead. You can already see the pearls, suits, and designer items on the clothing hangers you call company executives. The waft of espenstive perfume burns at your nostrils. If only they knew what they pamper themselves with was made out of.

“Do you know what you’re going to say?” She whispers to you, guiding you off to where the other interns are.

“I’m excited to work here and represent my college. Thank you for this opportunity,” you recite, it’s normally what you say when you get a rejection letter or cut from another round of interviews. You’re so used to the word “no” that hearing a “yes” shocks you.

Sierra nods and joins the other company mentors while some random chairperson blabs on about something to do with gratuity. It’s barely rehearsed, and the alcohol is making them too nonchalant.

One by one, everyone speaks, raising their glass while you raise a bottle of water. The speeches are so long that the alcohol is leaving your system. It’s all fluff and fake promises, shit that the hopeless latch onto like leeches. You roll your eyes when people clap for these assholes.

You spoke (eventually) and it earned the respectful nods of your peers, which is what you expect. Nobody seems to be giving good criticism nowadays.

You couldn’t care less about all that now, due to the rabbit showing up from under a nearby table. It flips its ears as it looks at the clock’s anxious and persistent ticking. It trots off into the maze, and you can’t help but follow it this time.

You don’t even know where you are going, the foliage warps and winds as you run after the pure white creature. You duck under small trees and jump over stone benches, ignoring your sudden focus and rapidly changing surroundings within the labyrinth.

The only thing you recognise was the archway that emptied out of the garden and into the You find yourself back at the tree you were lounging at before, the rabbit taunting your curiosity like that swaying pocket watch of theirs.

Your ankles twist and pop as your feet get caught in the roots. The rabbit doesn’t move, just watching you with a tilted head.

It looks at you, adjusting its glasses. Nose twitching, it dangles the pocket watch and then leaps into a part of the tree that you didn’t know it had.

A rather large rabbit hole.

It seems that you are still somewhat drunk as you crouch down and lean into the hole. The thought of falling in does cross your mind, but you want to see where the rabbit has gone.

And then the ground caved under your weight.

You fall in.

Chapter Text

Down,

Down, you go, as the light from above disappears from you. The world you once knew is becoming impossible to reach as you fall.

You scream from the shock, your throat becoming raw due to the lack of noise you normally make. Soon, the dirt and roots are replaced with harlequin tile walls and antique furniture.

Your flailing arms stretch out to find purchase on the floating furniture you pass on your rapid descent. Your hand slaps a mahogany desk, but a table leg clocks you between the eyes, sending you spinning.

You feel your face turn green as you flip. You can feel your hair extend above your head, and your loose clothes flap like wings in the continuing increase of speed.

The colors and patterns of everything range from bright to dull, and it burns your eyes. The overstimulation from it all threatens a migraine. You feel your tears trail up your eyes and high out of view.

Your arms grew tired from thrashing, and your mind began to fog up, the lights within the tunnel beginning to blur in and out as you descended deeper within this never-ending hole.

Then, the lights vanished, and the hole became thinner. You slip through with a raspy cry, your throat far too raw.

You free-fall without the aid of any light for far too long. With the lack of one of your key senses, the panic isn’t as strong as it was. You stop kicking your legs, and you fold your arms together.

You close your eyes and inhale through your nose.

That’s the last breath you take before you slam shoulder-first into a checkered tile floor. You gasp out in pain, but your voice goes shrill and dies out on you. You curl into the fetal position and clutch your throbbing shoulder. You suck in air through clenched teeth, screwing your eyes shut.

“Urgh.” You seethe, sitting straight up, still cradling your shoulder. “Steady breaths,” you remind yourself. In through the nose, hold it for a moment, and then out the mouth. Time heals all injuries (mostly), and this is just another example of that.

You repeat the breathing, over and over again. The pain dulls, but you’ve lost track of time. Regardless, it’s bearable now, and you open your eyes.

Doors are everywhere, in unreachable spots, and in directions where opening a door wouldn’t work. You’re certain that a place like this shouldn’t exist, but the throbbing pain in your shoulder tells you otherwise. This is not a dream.

You stand up, and the only pieces of furniture are a table and a glass case below it. On the table is a glass bottle with a tag that reads, “Drink Me!” You press your brows together, turning the tag around, and it reads, “Pishsalver.”

“Pis-Halver,” You repeat two parts of the word. You loved a good puzzle, even things that are meant to be odd will still make sense as long as the mind is sharp enough to do so. Though a coherent thought coming from your third tailwind is surprising.

Pis is an Irish word, referring to a drink that makes one small. Halver is just enhancing the first part of the word. You pocket the bottle and slip the key into your hand.

Kneeling, you open the case, revealing a very small cake in plastic wrapping with the phrase, “Eat me!” written in icing. You tilt the case down and lean your head back. There’s an engraving in gold at the bottom of the case, “Upelkuchen.”

Another word puzzle.. You pushed your tongue in your cheek in thought. “Upel-kuchen,” You mumrur, tapping your lips. Kuchen is obvious, it’s German for cake. However, because it’s the only other item that can be ingested, it’s most likely the opposite of the drink. So, you can assume that Upel is a form of enlargement.

That was fun! Now you have to get out of here.

Pocketing the cake, you stand, looking at all the doors here. You’re certain they all lead somewhere, but their keyholes look wildly different for the one in your hand to fit. You get closer to the wall and inspect the doors, each with a unique design and wood.

You come across a curtain, but there are no windows in here. Its purpose is intentional for sure, so you pull them back, revealing a door that reaches your knee in height. You crouch down and push the key in with your thumb and index finger.

It works, so you pull out the bottle. Popping off the cork, you sip a bit of the liquid and pop it back on. The taste isn’t bad, tangy, but it hits the back of your esophagus; you spiral into a coughing fit. Your grip on the bottle loosens and nearly slips out of your grasp as you double over.

You lean against the wall, only to feel your hand warm up from sliding up. Your eyes flick upward as you notice the world around you grow larger, overwhelming. You retract your hand and nearly stumble over your ankles.

The door’s minuscule size gradually appears more accessible to you while you continue to lose your height from the Pishsalver. You keep your legs at a shoulder’s width apart, bending your knees slightly as your shrinking slows to a stop.

You take a deep breath through your nose, closing your eyes as you do so; you step forward and fully unlock the door.

You extend your best foot forward, taking your weight with you. Any sort of concrete or even grass that you expect your foot to hit does not come. You fall out of the doorway and seemingly out of the sky. However, this time.. It’s different. It’s much slower and more like gliding.

Unlike the last time, you’ve learned your lesson. You keep your mouth shut, lest you want to ruin your voice more. You also keep your flailing to a minimum, rather, having your arms and legs spread out to feel the breeze while in your second freefall.

At least this time, you’re descending from the clouds, and the sight of natural light is far more comforting than a claustrophobic rabbit hole.

Besides, if the fall from last time didn’t kill you, then this won’t either. You can enjoy the descending view before you plummet into this strange land. Your hair flows freely, and your eyes don’t sting from the rapid decline.

The clouds start to clear, revealing a vast blue ocean. It’s beautiful, truly. It feels like you're skydiving rather than plummeting into a world you don’t know. Well, for a moment it felt like it.

The sparkly water gets closer, and you shift your body to a pencil dive. You'd rather not get hurt this time when falling from such a height. (That would normally kill you.)

The splash doesn’t leave any form of pain for you; rather, it’s just a warm, comforting feeling as your momentum carries you to the ocean floor. You drag your hands along the sand, watching it scatter underneath the ocean’s surface.

Then a sudden current takes you with it, washing you to the shore.

Face down in the sand, you allow yourself to just… lie there for a moment. It’s been a while since you’ve been to the beach, and the grace of the warm rays of the sun. Even if you’re not sure where you are at the moment, the excitement can wait for just a second longer.

You shift in the sand, its soft grains making tracks from your moments. The warm waves wash up and caress your legs, almost beckoning for you to go back in the water. You take slow, deep breaths, pressing your hands into the sand and pushing yourself up.

You furrow your brows and brush your hands along your clothes. They’re dry, but the sensation of the water and the sand is very real.

“Odd.” You say, looking up at the trees ahead. They’re extremely tall, and the foliage below curls and twists in ways you’ve never seen before. Spirals in small stalks and mushrooms as far as the eye can see. Well, you’re still small, at least that didn’t change.

Turning around, you take one last look at the crystaline waters you fell from. It shimmers from the afternoon sunlight, without a cloud in sight either. The breeze tosses your hair, and you close your eyes. 

Taking one last deep breath, you turn back to the world you’re going to explore, and step forward.

Let's do this.

Chapter Text

Small,

So small.

The grass blades reach your waist as you venture further into this surreal world. The spiral-shaped plants and the mushrooms loom over you, often casting shadows in line with the setting sun. The golden hour looks beautiful when it peaks through the trees.

You keep walking, eyes everywhere but what’s ahead of you. Everything is so big now that it’s nearly impossible to trip over anything, lest it be smaller than you.

Occasionally, some form of fauna would come by, mainly bugs. The most notable thing you were able to get a look at was a dragonfly that had the body of a dragon. It breathed fire and everything, roaring as it chased a horsefly with a rocking horse body.

“Curioser and curioser.” You mumble to yourself, eyes drifting to wildflowers talking amongst themselves. You’d look somewhere else, giving them privacy. You swore you could almost hear a “Thank you,” muttered from a nearby flower.

The blades of grass get taller and taller as you walk, and you find yourself pushing back some just to get forward. Then you found yourself amongst a cluster of mushrooms. All different shapes and sizes forming a circle-like clearing with some toadstools small enough to sit on.

“You’ll find yourself more lost if you keep looking anywhere but in front of you.” You jump at the voice, turning to the source. An older man, dressed in white and light blue robes, is sitting on a mushroom in a lotus position.

“I can’t help but admire the scenery.” You’re not going to apologize for your curiosity. You’ve been deprived of a good walk in nature for too long.

“First time in Wonderland?” He smiles, speaking in a way he would address an apprentice or a rookie. So that’s what this place is called. 

“The name is certainly fitting.” You admit, fighting the urge to look at everything once more. This place, splitting on real or not, is far more interesting than anything else in your life.

“Have you seen this one before, Absolem?” The man calls out, tilting his head to a grander mushroom. A dark blue caterpillar emerges, with a hookah pinched between his many hands. He takes a big inhale and blows different colored smoke in the shape of words.

“I have not,” Absolem says, his voice lower than you were expecting a caterpillar to be, “Who are you?” He blows more unique puffs of smoke at your face.

Coughing, you reply, introducing yourself with a slight bow of your head.

“What about you?” The caterpillar points to the man.

“Where are my manners?” The man scoffs, “Luke Skywalker.”

“Nice to meet you both,” You say, wanting to be on your way. You were chasing a rabbit in a waistcoat to begin with.

“By chance, did either of you spot a rabbit on the way here?” You ask them, “I followed one and that’s how I ended up here.”

“I’m certain I heard McTwisp’s clock pass by here, then you showed up soon after. I’m not surprised.” Luke snorts, “He always seems to lead people here occasionally. Though they never stay long.” You would ask for directions, but something tells you that there isn’t a sane cartographer to document a place like this.

“Thank you,” You straighten up, “Well then, I must be on my way.”

“Before you go. One side will make you grow and the other will make you shrink,” Albsolem says, pointing his pipe at a nearby mushroom.

“Oh, I’m good. I already have-“ you’re cut off with a wave of Luke’s hand. His action upset you, but you should hold your tongue for now. He knows far more about this world than you do. He speaks with a lot of confidence, a main indicator.

“Trust me, kid.” Luke says, “You fell out of the room of doors the size of a paperclip. The more ways you know how to revert yourself to your original size, the better.”

You shrug and pluck a small section from the north and south sides of the toadstool, pocketing them along with your cake and drink.

Waving to them both, you walk a decent distance away before you look at the piece of the north side of the toadstool.

“Worth a shot,” You murmur, nibbling off a tiny piece. It tastes fine, like any vegetable, and it’s not poisonous. Though you weren’t entirely questioning the things you’ve ingested until now.

You took two steps forward before the ground below you became incredibly small. You yelp and tense up, the top of your head colliding with an upper branch of a tree.

You clutch your head, it seems like accidental injuries will never seem to escape you.. Even from this height. Well, at least you can reach the highest shelf for once, though fitting through a normal-sized door in this metaphorical house may not be possible.

Ducking your head for a moment, you continue your journey through this intriguing world, covering a lot of ground than you did before.

Where to next?

…

The corridors are chilling to the bone for anyone to walk through, lest it be someone in the court of hearts. The sounds of ignored pleas echo the halls despite the lack of deaths today. (Which will be remedied soon enough)

This doesn’t disturb him, nothing fears him, he never flinches at the concept of execution. That is what he gets for being a creature of war, he knows nothing of love unless it’s for the one sitting atop the throne. Therefore, he bears the representation of the heart. At least the appearance of the pattern on his body may give off the illusion to others.

“My Knave.” A voice, oh so heavenly, calls for him with an outstretched arm. He walks faster, his legs carrying him to the steps before the throne. He kneels, eyes looking upward at his sole devotion. The center of his being. His muse in red.

A gloved hand extends to him, adorned with an occasional ring. He kisses it, wishing that it were skin rather than leather being the target of affection. 

“Where have you been lurking?” His eye shimmers at the silhouette blocking the sunset peering through the stained glass. 

“The rabbit has returned from Otherland.” He whispers into the glove, “There have been rumors of an Otherlandian spotted following the vermin into Queast territory, toward Tulgey woods.”

“You know how I feel about rumors.” The gloved hand slides out of his grasp, tilting his chin up to make eye contact. His dead heart rose to life, beating for the body occupying the bejeweled seat.
The crown gleams as its wearer leans forward, lips grazing the shell of his ear, “Go find them for me.” His lips part when he feels a nip at his ear.

He says, “Yes, your majesty.” Waiting to be dismissed, the hand holding his jaw caresses his scarred cheek.

“Make a mess of things, won’t you?” They whisper, pressing their lips against his. He sucks in air through his nose and holds the face of his lover, pushing them into the seat of comfort.

“Off with you,” They whisper. He rose, bowing and then leaving the throne room.

It’s not long before he’s at the drawbridge, with a battalion of card soldiers. He mounts his horse, taking off into the early night.

Chapter Text

You don’t mind that you’re no longer you’re normal height.. Despite all these drastic changes to you, there wasn’t ever a question about your appearance itself. Though learning to walk again with larger limbs does come at a cost.

You may have the added strength and weight, but the phrase, “The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” reigns true here. You’ve tripped over fallen logs and slight divots in the ground, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, but it only delayed your inevitable fall.

You just hope your clumsiness hasn’t disturbed too many of the Wonderland residents. It’s not your intention, but you also could use a rest. You’ve lost count of the hours you’ve been awake for, time continues to slip away from you.

The weather is warm enough that you muse on the idea of sleeping outside. You’ve never been one for camping, but it’s never too late to try. Especially now with the night sky rolling in, the concept becomes more appealing. You just have to find an open area big enough to fit you to lie comfortably on the ground.

You duck under lower-hanging branches, eyes trained forward. Luke’s comment earlier reeked of his experience. Being in the moment in a place like this will benefit you.

You came across an open area next to a stream, beyond which is a cliffside that has a view of fields that stretch on as far as the eye can see. The faintest specs of pink blossoms can be seen at an even greater distance.

You lie down in the grass, closing your eyes and resting. Though sleep didn’t come. You’re certain that it’s no longer the jet lag and is now more caused by being overtired. Not that it upsets you, but annoying, sure. Any form of rest is good rest, considering the lack of sleep.

Taking slow, deep breaths, you shift around, flattening the long grass. A sigh escapes your lips, finally comfortable. You allow your mind to drift off, and the thoughts that chain you back to reality surface.

This place is certainly real; the pain you’ve felt so far, and the height you’re at, is impossible to excuse for exhaustion. How will you get back? Have people noticed you’re gone?

…Do you want to go back?

You haven’t been here long, and yet you find yourself such at ease that you’ve nearly forgotten about the existence of issues that plague your mind daily. You’ve felt better, mentally, but that’s the honeymoon phase of it all.

You sigh, you hate being on the fence about things, but it’ll be nice to be here, if only for a little bit.

Opening your eyes, you look at the night sky. The stars in this sky are shuffled, displaying all sorts of unique constellations unseen by you.

You raise a hand, tracing the trails of the brighter stars, making shapes that lose their form the longer your arm extends out. A fun practice, but exhausting, meant for when you’ve gotten proper rest.

You sigh, your arm going slack, and it flops in the grass. You really need to sleep.

Closing your eyes again, you repeat the same actions that you did to get comfortable. This time, however, you feel more at unease. Not that something is watching you, but rather, something is coming.

The ground shakes ever so slightly, and you feel the march of a hundred heavy-duty boots. Your eyes pop open, and you sit up, scrambling over to the cliffside and tucking yourself under it.

Heart pounding from the sporadic action, you peek your head back over the cliffside. Dark red, armored figures march through the woods, led by a towering man in black on a horse and another figure in reflective red armor. 

The man dismounts from his horse, walking over to where you were just lying. You duck back under the cliff, hand covering your mouth, eyes wide.

“The Otherlandian isn’t far.” The man’s voice, sultry and low, commands his troops, “Find them!” You press yourself further against the cliff.

Footsteps scatter about, most fading, but a few stick around. Some get closer and closer. You close your eyes and try to calm your pounding heart. Exhaling out of your nose when you hear the steps fade away.

“Here we are.” A feminine voice, cocky and smug, points out to you. A heat flash blemishes your body, your heart beating against your ribcage. 

 “I’ve found them.” She turns to someone else. The man comes into view. He towers over the armored woman, fitting the definition of a black knight. Something you’d see out of a dark fantasy novel. He has an eye patch covering the right side of his face, but a big scar still peeks out of it.

He makes eye contact with you, and a smile crosses his full lips. “Don’t be afraid,” he says, “Come up here,” but you feel like a deer cornered by a direwolf. You can see the other guards ready their spears, but the man raises a fist, and they lower their weapons.

“Come on,” He whispers, “you must be terrified. I’ll help you.”

His mentioning your apparent fear doesn’t make this any better.

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice much louder and lower than the last time you talked, but neither of them shows any difference to you.

“Come up here, and I will tell you.” He bargains, and you bite. Knowledge is the best tool for you, so you hoist yourself over the cliff, looking down at the knights. They barely reach your hips. Judging by their posture and compared to the rest of the knights, they are not short people.

“I am Kylo Ren, the King of Heart’s knave.” He introduces himself, then gestures to the woman slightly shorter than he is, “This is Phasma, the knight.” You nod. 

“And you are?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. You fell sick to your stomach, and you know better than to ignore a feeling in your gut.

“That wasn’t a part of the deal.” You take a step back, but Kylo remains as calm as ever.

“It’s rude not to introduce yourself.” He responds, but the feeling, the sickness in your gut, worsens. You bolt, your long legs carrying you through the forest..

“After them!” Kylo bellows.

The soldiers in red struggle to catch you, but that doesn’t mean they don’t try. They fling themselves on you, trying to slow you down, but you pry them off your body and throw them at the rest of your pursuers.

Your footfalls are big, heavy, and easy to track no matter the distance. However, you are glad that it is increasing. If you can get far enough away, you can drink the Pishsalver and slip away undetected.

You flinch as the horse’s whinny echoes through the forest, the clopping of hooves soon after. The knave makes up for lost ground immediately. He reaches his hip for something, a sword, probably.

Rather than drawing a sword, Kylo throws bolas, wrapping around your ankles and halting your movements. You trip and land on the ground with an earth-splitting thump.

Your vision starts to fade in and out, losing consciousness when black boots step into your field of view.

…

Hux is in his garden surrounded by his court as he plays an evening game of croquet. The flamingo doesn’t dare to squirm, it doesn’t move a budge as he raises his arms to swing at the hedgehog bound into a sphere. It knows what the consequences will be if the poor thing is even a feather out of line.

With a swift swing, the hedgehog goes flying. The cards not wearing armor bend into the holes meant for the animal to pass through. The animal sails through three of them before slowing to a stop. The court claps, and praises are spoken about.

“What a wonderful shot, Your majesty.” Kylo walks into view.

Hux hands the bird into the hands of his advisor, “Leave us,” he waves with his hands, and the people of his court trot away, deep in his gardens.

Kylo takes large steps until he gets close, kneeling at Hux’s feet. His arms reached up to hold his knees. A hand touches Kylo’s chin, tilting his head up to look at Hux’s crimson eyes. His lips part as his king blocks out the daylight.

Hux leans in, pressing his lips against Kylo’s. Chaste, but all the more possessive as he pulls apart, “Are the rumors true?” he says, ghosting his lips over his loyal knave’s. 

“Would you like to see?” Hux’s pupils expand, and he pulls apart, allowing his knave to stand. His eyes meet Kylo’s chest.

Kylo turns to the guards at the door, “Bring them in.”

Both doors open to reveal you, bound to a cart with multiple ropes tied over you to hold you in place. Multiple guards pull you in with ropes attached to the front. You’re unconscious, eyes closed, as you are blissfully unaware of anything going on at the moment.

“I don’t remember them being so large,” Hux says, walking up to your face. He rests a hand on the point of your nose. You twitch in your sleep. Hux takes in your reaction with wide, attentive eyes.

“They were frightened, would you believe that?”

“I would,” Hux muses, not taking his eyes off you for a second, “What do they call themselves?”



“They didn’t say, they were quite rude after I gave them mine.”

“A shame.” Hux sighs, “We’ll have to find a way, won’t we?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Kylo cups Hux’s face, kissing him once more.

Chapter Text

The smell of roses wafts to your nose—such a beautiful scent, welcomed with open arms on a morning walk. Or maybe browsing a greenhouse, admiring its beauty in select colors with different meanings. It’s all good and calming, except…

You are being subdued by it, smothered.

With a gasp, your eyes open to a room so elegantly themed that you’ve utterly forgotten the overwhelming smell of roses… only for a moment. You sit up, taking in your surroundings.

A room with many shades of red, accents of gold, and black. Not to mention, everything bears the heart motif. (Even the window is heart-shaped.) The floors are checkered, black and white. The Knave, Kylo Ren, brought you here after you fell unconscious.

The fact that he and his battalion were able to get you here without as much as waking you is disturbing. However, you know that escaping back in those woods would’ve been possible if you had gotten rest in a different place.

Now the mystery concludes itself. You should be going.

You move to get out of bed, only to jerk backward from a bound. You flop back on the bed, it creaks in protest. You grunt, looking down to see two cuffs with a chain bolted to the back wall. Your clothes have been changed as well, perfectly tailored to your body as if you were wearing them the whole time.

A loose, cowel-necked scarlet shirt that has golden heart-shaped buttons at the sleeve. The shirt is tucked into form-fitting, velvet-like pants. You’re wearing crimson dress socks. You lack pockets, and black heeled boots are resting at the foot of the bed.

To top it all off, a pendant with a golden heart rests around your neck.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, dragging your hand downward and resting your head in your palm. You inhale deeply through your nose, closing your eyes slightly as you slowly let it out.

Think,

Think.

Your few possessions have been taken from you. Well, with all this effort put into your appearance, you’re in no danger of compromising your safety. However, it’s the treatment you’re that’s worrying.

Unless you were forced to ingest Pishalver when you were comatose, you’re certain that you’re still enormous. The large bed is giving you the illusion that you may be of normal size.

You tug at your restraints more, they’re weak, meant for a normal person. Escape wouldn’t be hard… but then what? You’d be in more trouble than you potentially are.

You should wait, unfortunately. The best course of action is not always favorable. Good things come to those who do, but sometimes, patience is proving to be far more difficult for you.

Though in a pinch, you could break your bonds.

You shimmy over to the window behind you. Twisting your body in a way not to upset the chains, you peer outside.

“Fuck,” you hiss, resting your head on the sill. Not quite in a spire, but you’re still high up. You turn back to face the room, rather, a fancy cell. You rest your head back on the wall, closing your eyes in thought.

You hate being on the fence about decisions like these.

Maybe coming here was a mistake, a really (and partially inhibited) exhausted mistake. Then again, the domino effect that got you here has been so insane that the dominoes will crush you even at this size.

You flinch at the double doors are suddenly opened. Instinctively pulling the covers to shield your body from view. Though you’re clothed, you drop them. 

“Otherlandian.” A robotic female voice states, mocking you.

It’s the same woman from yesterday, donning the same armor she did the night prior. (At least you still think that encounter was yesterday.)

“Your presence is requested.” Blunt, yet still sending unease in your stomach. Two of those red guards march in behind her. You tilt your head to the side, they’re much wider than you remembered, and… flat.

You spot numbers on their shoulder plates, with a heart motif right below them. On their torso was displayed the number of hearts. The one on the left was 6 and the one on the right was 9.

Card soldiers, more frightening than the art on them, are impressive. Not intimidating (because they have to look up at you), but impressive.

One walks to the chains, removing the bolts from the wall. Your chains are slack, so you sit on the side of the bed. Sliding on the shoes and you walk towards.. Phasma? That was her name, right?

She leads you out of the room. You duck under the doorway, slouching and leaning forward to walk the halls without sustaining any head injury. Lest you pass out once more.

The card soldiers holding your chains reach your mid-thigh in height, making them escorting you look comical. You may as well be escorting the three of them.

You make it through the twists and turns that this castle offers, each hall slightly different than the last. You’ve been walking for so long that your back starts to hurt from your semi-crouch through these corridors, and you can feel your thighs tighten up as well from the awkward position.

You hold in your sigh of relief when two larger double doors are presented for you, opening for Phasama as you trail behind. You straighten your posture, a few choice pops can be felt in your spine as thanks as you enter.

The throne room, the epicenter of this heart theming. Large pillars line the walls between the stained glass and the back of the room. Checkered flooring with a red carpet trail up the center to the altar-like placement of an extravagant throne.

A man sits atop the throne, with crossed legs and perfect posture. The light peering through the stained glass obscures his features.

At his side is his Knave, watching you with a tilted down head, arms folded behind his back. His eyes are trained on you, every step, every breath; it’s observed without error in his eye.

The king’s silhouette doesn’t move, not even a hair out of place. You press your brows together, but you yelp, dropping to your knees. The guards adjust their footing and pull your chains back.

“I was suspicious of your size, but seeing that not only were Upelkuchen and Pishsalver found on your person, but both sides of the toadstool as well.” His voice is smooth, accented, and you like it. A shame, because your foolish heart shouldn’t be reacting to your captors like this.

“Tell me,” he says, “how tall are you?”

“What?” Out of all the questions, he starts with that? An odd man, but you know better than to let your guard down. A foot in the door is all it takes for success, and curiosity opens it.



“The only thing that showed signs of consumption was the Pishsalver.” He comments, but does not repeat himself.

“I drank it to enter here.” You answer truthfully, hoping that your bluntness can be confused with naivety. Not to mention, the less he knows about you, the better. Besides, the tiniest bit of toadstool you did nip at must’ve gone under everyone’s radar.

“Ah, the Room of Doors.” He muses. There’s nothing that goes unnoticed by him, and that frightens you, “And here I thought that gateway was sealed off.” Kylo bristles at that statement, but suppresses his response quickly.

The king stands, the gems on his circlet gleaming in the light. The shadow overtaking his body decreases, as you see this man for who he truly his.

“Otherlandians never stop growing, I presume.” He muses, and you nod, keeping your gaze trained on the floor.

A natural redhead, freckles adorn his face as he steps closer to you. Dark red robes with white gloves that cut off on the palm. His eyes are as red as the heart-shaped ruby on his head. Slim, prominent cheekbones and pale lips.

He walks slowly, his hand tilting your chin up to look at him. He leans in close, far too personal to your liking.

“Do you know who I am?” He whispers, “Hm?” His breath tickles your lips, and it takes everything within you not to shudder. You are the bigger person here, after all.

“The King of Hearts,” You answer, quickly adding, “Your majesty,” afterward.

“Clever, aren’t you?” He muses, the statement far from a compliment.

“No, your majesty.” Humility will be your best friend for now, until you can find a plan good enough that doesn’t involve you jumping out of a window.



“Modest as well,” He says over his shoulder, “You confound me.”

His eyes flicked left and right, switching between looking at each of your eyes. For a moment, his irises look like they are heart-shaped—your stomach protests with the addition of stress.

His hand goes from your chin to your cheek. “Do you know where you are?”



“No, your majesty.” You say, your voice tousling his hair slightly. His eyelids flutter close, quickly opening soon after with larger pupils.

“Tell me,” he whispers, “What is your name?”

You respond with your answer, and his lips show the shadow of a smile. Whether he means it or not, you’re not so sure.

The king hums, holding your gaze, “You are to join my court and I in the gardens.” He leans even closer, “Behave, won’t you? Running away will only get you hurt.”



“Yes, your majesty.” You say, whispering, and he presses his lips to yours. Small, cold, but it all the more makes you feel like you’re the weak one. It’s long, possessive, your eyes are wide open, looking at Kylo to make sure this is real, but his eyes are big, pupils blown out like his master’s before closing his eyes.

You can see the knave wants to be here, rather not in your place, but also receiving the king’s affection like a treasured item.

You breathe through your nose, as does the king. However, your cheeks are warm. He pulls away, and you find yourself leaning slightly against the chains to chase the kiss.

“See that you arrive on time.” he didn’t break your gaze, but you jerked backward with a tug. You go back to a stand to see the king spin on his heels to walk back to his throne.

He takes what he wants.

Like Kylo, you’re his next trinket of affection.

Chapter Text

Say what you might against the king of hearts, but his garden is very impressive.

Hedges trimmed to perfection, roses without a sign of decay, even a crystaline stream of water runs through with bridges at select areas of the garden. It feels like this place has no end. A place like this is so regal, even the Versailles garden could never compare.

There are also flower beds, all featuring hearts or some variation of the design. The lawn is cut in a checkered pattern, and in specific areas, the grass is offset with square stones to mimic the look of an outdoor chessboard. In fact, there are life-size red and white chess pieces further out in the garden.

Yes, despite your current situation, you could find yourself wandering around here. Just like the….Party….

You sigh, lowering your gaze to your slow pace. Your heart weighs heavily on your chest while you feel the chilling sensation of anxiety crawl up your spine.

It feels like forever ago, but it’s only been a day. Are you stuck here? Have people been looking for you? What will become of the internship you spent so long trying to get? Those are not easy to find anymore. Are

Phasma stops once reaching an open area, raising her fist. The guards go into parade rest. You stop walking, stepping back slightly to expose the raw skin to fresh air. You breathe sharply through your nose, shifting around your cuffs until the pain subsides.

The garden becomes populated with guards and well-dressed people; you can only assume that this is the king’s court. They chitter about, admiring the scenery before landing on you. They whisper in hushed tones, but it’s so obvious that they’re referring to you when they speak.

“That’s his new plaything?”

“I knew he had a thing for otherlandians.”

“Were they always that big?”

“I heard they never stop growing.”

“Well, they’re going to hurt something when they play croquet.”

Oh, so that’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to lose horribly in croquet, regardless of how well you would perform at first playing it, you will lose for your safety.

You ignore their chittering and focus on Phasma. She straightens her already perfect posture, saluting the king as he walks on the field, Kylo a pace behind him. He holds a brief gaze with the armored woman in red before clapping twice.

“Let the games begin.” He says, and the court does the equivalent of excited golf claps. You clap too, slower, more nervously.

Big, sentient playing card stewards trot into the garden, scattering out amongst the place, and not moving once they’ve reached a particular spot. Judging how two-dimensional they look, they’re most likely the goals the balls will have to go through.

“Remove their binds.” Phasma orders, and you remain perfectly still, bending at the knees slightly so the guards can uncuff you. Rolling your wrists as you straighten your posture.

A man stands off to the side, away from the court. Over his shoulder looks to be a golf bag, you furrow your brow. This isn’t golf. However, your assumption was quickly proven wrong when you caught sight of two flamingos. Your eyes widen as he presents a bird to the king.
It’s alive, you catch sight of its feathers rising and falling. Completely calm, it’s held upside down by its legs. The king raises his arms. Surely he won’t-

*WHAP*

You wince as the bound hedgehog goes flying, skidding in the grass. The card people arch their bodies as the hedgehog sails through them, three goals in total from the first hit. However, the starting post rule might not apply here.

You can hear the animals hold in their cries of pain, but they are immediately muffled by the polite claps of his court. They praise his shot, which you’re internally grateful that he is good at the game, so you don’t have to try to lose.

You join in on the clapping, once again, slowly and out of nerves rather than anything.
“Excellent shot!”

“Well done, your majesty!” 

“Marvelous!”

He waves his hand, and the praise stops instantly.

The king takes long, calculated strides over to the hedgehog, Kylo lurking in the shadows within the hedges. Not far, but always out of sight. He reminds you of a shadow,

A hedgehog is dropped in front of you, resting next to your feet. It looks up at you with its beady little eyes, its nose twitching as you start to shake.

“Mitaka,” the king says impatiently, and the man presents you with the other bird. Extending his arms until they’re locked at the joints, even balancing on his toes to get the bird at your waist level.

You freeze, and you can see Mitaka shake a bit from this posture. So, you gently take the bird from him. He exhales in relief, quickly returning to his original spot and holding the posture from before.

“I’m so sorry,” You mouth, holding the bird loosely by its feet, mimicking the king’s posture from before. You slowly raise your arms for a golf swing, shaking like a leaf, and then letting gravity put the power behind your swing rather than using any strength.

*WHAP*

The hedgehog goes flying, its squeals fading with distance as it cuts through the air. Shooting through one of the goals, you see that it sails to the human-sized chessboard. You flinch, shoulders spiking high into the air.

Nobody claps for you, as you suspected, and the court starts to murmur. Though once again, their gossip is obviously about you and can be heard miles away.

“As I suspected, something with be hurt.”

“Do they even know how to play croquet?”

“Freakishly big Otherlandian.”

You roll your eyes, stepping away from the conversation to find where you launched that poor animal. You step over hedges in the general direction where the creature rocketed off to.

You spot holes in the shrubbery that go back. You saw the hedgehog go far, but you weren’t expecting it to land all the way back there.

As you get closer to the hedgehog, you also find yourself enamoured by the craftsmanship of the chess pieces. Rather than the normal shapes you’re used to seeing in the pieces, they mirror the real-life occupation that the chess pieces represent.

Another thing, that the people are carved so realistically and all bear unique traits. So unique that you find yourself looking at the red queen’s enlarged head. It’s too much of a specific thing to mess up.

The red queen piece’s eyes follow you. So, you step forward, inspecting her further. They widen for a moment before returning to a dormant state.

You admire the craftsmanship for a moment before turning to the other set of chess pieces. It’s more diverse than the red side, so you inspect each of them. However, the white king also stuck out to you; rather, his face did. It looks just like-

“What are you doing here?” Kylo hisses, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You pick up the hedgehog resting right at the base of the white king’s piece.

“Looking for my…” You didn’t entirely know how cruel these people are, so you just assume the worst and say, “Ball.” You feel a jab in your heart as those words leave your mouth.

“I hit it hard.” You say, your face blank, “Do I hit it from here?”

“No, you’ll start over.” Kylo grabs your wrist, his hand only able to wrap around half of it. He pulls you, but you don’t budge. He whips his head back up at you, glaring at you with his good eye. His head tilts upwards to look at you, but you don’t meet his eye.

You frown, not sure how much longer you’re going to take the disrespect from anybody here. Guest, prisoner, it doesn’t matter. If the biggest man here can’t force you to move, then maybe this once.. You’ll allow the power to get to your head if it means you are safe.

“I don’t see why I can’t shoot from here.” You pull your hand away, and he jerks forward from the strength that your size adds.

Kylo’s fists clench, but he straightens up, “Very well.” He doesn’t leave your side, just watching you. You can feel his eye burn a hole through your back as you watch the king take his second shot. You wince as the flamingo makes contact with the hedgehog, and it goes through two more cards.

Once again, there’s more polite clapping and praises, but this time you are far enough not to hear them. The king walks over to his ball and turns his head to you, his perfect posture falters for a moment, but them steels himself as if such a thing didn’t happen before.

You take a sharp breath in, raising your arms to swing, and you launch the animal back into the grounds. The animal gets through another goal, but now it’s on the opposite side.

You walk over the hedges to your spot and find that Kylo is by your side as well. You sigh, leaning forward slightly, as you watch the king take his turn.

This is going to be a long game..

…

Indeed, it was.

It was midday by the time you got through all the checkpoints and back to the start. The king had finished twenty minutes before you, and still made you play.

You had already lost, and yet he made you suffer still.

Not to mention, Kylo made sure he was a breath’s distance away from you for the remaining part of the game. He would breathe down your neck as you bent down to swing. It was perverse, not to mention the way he looked at you when he thought you were distracted. (Or maybe he did know that you could see him; regardless, it’s gross.)

You were shakily handing Mitaka the hedgehog and flamingo back when it was all set and done. Your eyes were watery, and you could barely keep yourself together. Your eyes watered, and you yearned for isolation.

No, that would be too merciful.

Phasma had you chained up once more, the guards tugging you back into his throne room. You were brought up to the steps before the throne, sitting on your knees.

The guards remove your chains, and you relinquish the freedom… until you feel a metal clasp around your neck.

A gold chainlink, leading to a metal circle in the king’s hand.

He pulls it, making you crawl to the edge of the throne, even though you’re still above eye level on your hands and knees.

“You strayed too far during our little game.” He muses, pulling down on the chain more. It’s not much of a tug; rather, the words mean so much more. They make you feel like you’re far smaller than you are.

“Do I have to keep you on a chain forever?” He asks, tilting his head ever so slightly. It takes you a moment to understand that the question isn’t rhetorical. 

“No, your majesty,” You whisper, your voice tousling his hair. His crimson eyes shift left and right, looking into the depths of your own.

“You fought back against my knave.” He says, and your stomach drops. You refuse to show fear, but that does not mean you can’t feel it. Your stomach drops, and your heart starts to pound.

“That is a punishable offense.” He whispers, handing the chain off to Phasma, “Take them away.”

Phasma yanks you, pulling harshly all the way back to the room you’ve woken up in. You’re pushed into the room, and you stumble. The metal chain has more weight than you thought.

You flinch as the door slams behind you. Not even bothering to turn back, you head straight for the bed. Lying in bed, nausea was taking over everything.

Something has to change.

Chapter Text

You try to calm down, the stress and queasiness building inside you, enhancing, feeding off each other in a horrific orobouros.

You can’t breathe, and your heart is pounding, loud and fast.

Your body feels so small, yet so large at the same time. You see double, trying your best not to throw up or sob. The stress of it all, being here, finally getting to you. This was a long time coming, yet why now?

The ceiling comes in and out of focus, spinning into a spiral that makes you clutch your head. Silent tears mar your face, burning salt water trailing down your cheeks. You hyperventilate, chest heaving as you try desperately to ground yourself.

Your eyes screw shut, breathing in for four, holding for four, and then letting out for four.

You repeat the process, slowly, patiently. Removing your hands from your head, you grip the bedsheets, feeling the texture of them as you breathe. Grounding yourself to reality as your heartbeat slows.

Your fear quells, but not completely. For you are uncertain if you are ever going to return home.

You open your eyes slowly, the ceiling coming into focus.

The door opens, and you sit up straight. Eyes trained on the door, your heart kicks back into overdrive as two people walk in.

It’s Mitaka, accompanied by a card guard. He twists on his heels to face the armored card, “You’ll know if I’m in trouble.” The guard then steps out of the room, slamming the door behind them. They’re standing right outside the door, and you can hear that they didn’t move.

The man takes measured steps, calm and slow. Like the king, his shoulders are squared and his head is held high. He holds a perfect mask, a splitting image of the king.

He got to the foot of the bed. “Close the window,” he says, quietly. His head tilting back to look at you, the emotion in his eyes compels you to trust him, for now.

Nodding, you don’t break eye contact with him, reaching back and feeling around for the glass. You flick your wrist toward you, shutting the window with a small clap.

“Otherlandian,” he says, suddenly nervous, his cheeks turning pink, “You need to get out of here!” His eyes widen as his voice bursts with volume, and he covers his mouth with a slap. Eyes wide as he switches his gaze from you to the door.

“I know,” you whisper, leaning in and keeping your voice down, “I just don’t- Why are you telling me this?”

“Never mind that.” His hands reach up, locking his elbows to rest on your shoulders, “Just.. get out of here if you want to live.”

“I will.” You say softly. He calms down, his posture relaxing. His breaths are still unsteady, his chest rising and falling at a faster pace.
“Also,” You introduce yourself properly to him, “It’s better sounding than just Otherlandian, no?”

“It does,” he smiles just a bit, repeating your name. He’s still reeking with nerves, no matter how much you reassure him. You’re in the same boat as him, apparently.

“How are you so composed?” You ask him.

“I’ve been the head caretaker of Hux’s palace since he took over Salezen Grum.” He waves you off, like it’s all old hat to him. Though the pain in his eyes makes your heart clench for the smaller man.

“Hux?” You ask, “Is that the king’s name?”

“Last name. It’s Armitage Hux,” Mitaka enunciates the king’s name as if it’s recited. He frowns, “Though it doesn’t surprise me that he keeps his name secret from foreigners.”

“He enjoys keeping people in the dark.” You say with a smirk.

“And keeping them in fear,” he looks down, “Though he does it in such a way that he makes you fall in love with him.” Your smirk fades, your mouth going agape.

Your mind briefly drifts away as you remember the featherlight touches from Hux. His gaze, his lips. It all felt too personal, like you belonged to him, and only him.

Little did you know that you’re the biggest, juiciest bumble bee caught in a spider’s web. There are so many other bugs there, alive and dead. But if Mitaka is saying this to you, then maybe there is hope.

“It’s why he’s so intimate with you. He touches you in such a way that you feel wanted, but then punishes you for acting out.” Mitaka says, picking up part of the gold chainlink around your neck, “It’s because you walked too far away from him.”

You press your brows together, “But I didn’t intend to hit the poor creature far.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he sighs, holding his head in his hands, “He could make up a rule that very moment and make it sound like it’s been there the whole time. As long as it gets you closer to him.”

You cringe, scooting away a bit to give him space. Mitaka lets out a long exhale as he sits back up, “Get out of here after sunset, there are fewer guards that patrol during night hours.”

“I’ll be on my way. If you see Hux after now, heed my warnings.” He says, standing up… Then his eyes widen at the sound of talking, familiar voices coming closer and closer.

“It’s them,” Mitaka’s weak voice choked out, “If they find me here, I’ll-“ You grab him, encasing him in your arms briefly.
“They won’t. Hide under the bed.” You pulled the covers back, allowing him to crawl under the bed and pulling them over the mattress.

You sit back on the bed, crossing one leg over the other, just in time for the door to open. Kylo is holding the door open for Hux. The knave presses his lips to the top of the king’s head in the process.

“Otherlandian,” Hux says, taking the same pattern of measured steps as Mitaka once did. He reaches the foot of the bed. So, you slid off the side, crawling on your hands and knees, meeting his gaze properly.

“You learn quick,” he muses, pressing his lips against yours. You shudder out a breath and greedily take his kisses, willing to play the part of a frightened rabbit in order to get yourself to safety.

You keep your eyes trained on him at all times, knowing that even a mere glance under the bed can get you and Mitaka into a whole world of trouble.

His tongue slips into your mouth, like a small snake. He barely reaches past the plushness of your lips, so you take in more of him, claiming more of his mouth. You’re slow, not daring to wrap your tongue around his. Rather, you flatten it on his, feeling it curl regardless.

Hux hums in satisfaction, believing your ruse. He pulls apart, and you chase him a little bit, just like last time. Hux hums, a smile grazing his lips for a moment. Kylo comes into view behind him, looming over you. His eye shows vulnerability, pupils expanding at the sight of you.

Hux’s gloved hand reaches under your chin. “Aren’t they stunning?” 

“Beautiful,” Kylo whispers, his low voice sending tremors into your heart. He wraps his arms around Hux, burying his face in the side of the king’s neck.

Hux’s hand goes downward, his index finger traces down your jugular. You take in a sharp breath as his hand goes from your skin to the collar, his hands holding the chain as it slides through his hands. He grips the circle at the end of it.

He pulls the chain, bringing you close to his face once more. You don’t look away from those crimson eyes of his. No matter how badly you want to take in the rest of his features.

“Get on the bed,” Hux whispers, adding a “My pets,” afterward. Those words went straight to the pit of your stomach, you preen at the attention yet dread it all the same.

Hux allows the slack on the chain, giving you room to climb on the bed. Sitting on your knees, you watch Kylo separate from him.

Kylo is at your right, near the headboard. You see him widen his posture, spreading his legs out far. He leans forward, wrapping his arms around you, but only his long fingers make it around your sides. He pulls at you slightly, and you lean back.

Hux gets on the bed soon after, standing on his knees so that he appears the tallest out of the three (four) of you.

“Are you ready for your punishment?” He asks, his tone sultry and mocking, “Pet?” He arches a brow, and the corners of his mouth stretch into a smile.

“Yes, your majesty.” You rasp, your body getting hot at his mere commanding presence.
He grins, showing his pearly white teeth for a moment. Then, in one fell swoop, he slides out a dagger from his sleeve, pointing the tip of the blade against your neck. Your eyes are wide, your breath speeding up.

He adds pressure, and a small bead of thick red liquid oozes out of your neck. You open your mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. Your voice is trapped in your throat. Kylo leans in and sucks on the open wound, his hands going form your sides to under your arms.

Kylo hums from the taste of your blood, tonguing the wound until it stops bleeding, “Divine.”

Hux pulls downward on the knife, cutting your clothes directly down the middle. Leaving you bare before the king of hearts. But he doesn’t stop there, no, he delicately traces shapes against your thigh, goosebumps rising from the contact with the cool metal.

You’re breathing so fast, light, and quick. Hyperventilated breaths enter and exit your body as you catch sight of your terrified reflection in the detailed blade.

You shudder, and he presses on the blade once more, the side making a new cut on the inner part of your thigh. Hux throws the bend of your knee over his shoulder, his lips latching on the open wound, drinking from your blood as if it were ambrosia.

His tongue circles around the wound, sighing as he pulls away, “I’m delighted to agree.” He sets your leg down, “Flip over.” He tosses something, and then you faintly hear the noise of metal coming in contact with the Harlequin-tiled floor.

You put all your weight into your hands and you pull yourself off Kylo, you then spin your torso around so that you’re now making eye contact with the knave. You look in those big eyes of his, presenting your ass to Hux while you do so.

Kylo’s eyes flick from you to beyond your person, his plump lips parting as the sound of rustling clothes. Hux is stripping, and the knave is in awe.

“Strip, Kylo,” Hux whispers. And he does it without question. Fast, he removes his armored tunic, revealing his broad, muscular torso and bulging pecs. He scrambles to remove his pants, but grunts in frustration when they’re not as easy as his top.

So, his easy solution is to rip them, freeing himself in the process. You’re too close to him to look down, but his toned torso is enough for you to-

*WHAP*

You yelp from the sudden, stinging pain, lurching forward and attempting to bury your face in Kylo’s pecs. If you were you’re normal size, this wouldn’t be an issue.. They end up being a really small sleeping mask for you.

“Naughty,” Hux hisses.

*WHAP*

“Naughty,”

*WHAP*

“Pet.” He slaps your ass once, gripping the raw flesh and leaning forward, “That’s what happens when you disobey me.”

He smacks you lightly, right on the abused flesh. Your eyes start to burn from the salty tears forming on your face. You can feel Kylo’s arms wrap around your head.

He slaps you again. Tears stream down your face, dripping onto the newly made wet spots on the bed. You suck in air as the pain burns from contact, you grip the sheets, making an indent on the mattress.

“Now then,” He says, “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Y-es!” You gasp out, and he smacks you once more. You cry out in pain, your head hanging low.

“Have you?” He still remains as calm as ever; however, there’s a dangerous tint in his voice. You can faintly hear it, but it’s enough for you to feel nauseous.

“Yes! You’re majesty.” You say, and the hand on your ass disapears, leaving the raw burning skin to be exposed ot the air.

“Good pet,” Hux coos, kneading the abused flesh. Your lips quiver, and Kylo pulls you back to those deep eyes of his. Gazing at them makes you think you’ll fall into them.

You yelp as Hux enters you, like the spanking is without warning. Your hips snap forward, pulling him with you. He props himself up with your back

Kylo’s spontaneous kiss muffles your sudden screams. His kiss, soft, with a desperate push forward. He’s so much smaller than you are, but still giving his all in this kiss.

Devotion..

Hux reaches out to grab your hips, locking his arms as his hips snap as he pushes himself completely. He barely penetrates you, but it’s the act that makes him feel so much bigger than you. He doesn’t dare move, making you truly feel how hard he is.

He pulls back slightly, but slamming himself into you more, pushing you deeper into the kiss with Kylo. The knave returns with twice the amount of fervor. Moaning softly, Kylo meets your mistaken energy and then some. His black hair was sticking to his sweaty face. His eyes closed lightly, pressed brows; he looks like a fallen angel.

“Don’t kiss him there.” Hux grabs your hair, pulling your head back. Your head is forced down to face the monster resting between Kylo’s muscular legs.

He’s big, bigger than you thought. Eyebrows raised, you open your mouth as Hux forces you on him, taking him into your mouth.

Regardless of how big he is -even erect- he barely grazes your teeth. So, you flatten him with your tongue, teasing his tip with your teeth. He gasps out, his eyes popping open to look down at you.

His hand shakily grasps your cheek, the act showing so much passion that you ignore the dull pain that Hux gives you while pounding into you.

Kylo bites his lips, his watery eyes flicking to Hux. The king smiles, “Yes, you can.”

You press your brows together, but they smooth out as Kylo spills his hot seed within you. You swallow without thinking twice, he was quick… Unlike Hux.

You part your lips, and Kylo pulls away, watching his king slam into you over and over again. “Take it all,” he hisses.

“Yes, your Majesty,” You whine, feeling Hux empty into you, pulling out. You hear them both get off the bed, so you sit up, facing the king and his knave.

Your eyes are bleary, but they both lean forward, leaving kisses on your cheeks. One possessive and the other obsessive. Tears pool in your eyes as their figures blur into visages walking to the door.

You hear the door shut quietly, softly.

“They’re gone now,” You utter, covering your face with your hands. You hear the rustling of the covers, and out comes Mitaka. You can hear the falter in his breath; he held back a remark as he saw your condition. Two open wounds and bright red handprints on your body.

To top it all off, the only apparel still on you is the necklace and the chain over it.

He rests his hand on your bare shoulder, but he doesn’t say anything. Lingering there for a moment before walking to the door, shutting it quietly. You sob into your hands, shuddering as the reality of it all sets in.

They fucked you, harmed you in the name of obedience and fucked up rule that Hux has.

Mitaka was right, you need to get the hell out of here. You should’ve trusted your gut sooner. Lesson learned, you suppose. Though, in the most fucked up and traumatizing way.

You raise your head when you hear his footsteps fade away in the hallway. You can see the pink hues of the setting sun peep through the glass, making patterns on the floor from the window pane.

Your hands hover over the chain around your neck.

Chapter Text

You grab the chain, pulling on it hard.

The metal digs into your hands, your arms start to burn from strain, but you ignore it, pulling harder.

With a yell, the chain snaps. Clanging on the ground in two pieces.

Your chest heaves with the frustrated breaths you let out. Your head immediately snaps to the door, and you gravitate toward the gleaming knob like a moth to the flame.

You duck out of your fancy cell, lowering your upper body once more as you trot through the hallways, keeping your footsteps fast and light as you make your way through the labyrinth of identical corridors and artwork.

You curse at yourself internally for not paying more attention when you were escorted by Phasma, the throne room would’ve led you closer to the exit. Though it would have been more conventional. You are nearly thrice the height of a human being… and naked, save for the necklace.

Left,

left,

right,

right.

You’re pretty sure you’ve been here before. It isn’t what you wanted.

You grit your teeth, and you keep moving. Your long legs carry you through the seemingly endless, red halls. Risque art of all mediums depicting the king’s eroticism. Most artworks have some sort of dismembered head or a large axe, either under Hux’s boot or in Kylo’s hand.

You frown and start going through the doors—the larger ones, with more accents and details in craftsmanship. Each leading you through a different area, you know you’re getting close(er) now, there are at least stained windows depicting roses and other red items.

You groan, keeping your head trained forward, looking for the next door to enter. No guards in sight, you assume Mitaka meant that the security is just around the perimeter of the castle, and will fortify if they notice something is wrong.

Though it makes you wonder if any of the servants and stewards are only awake when the king is awake, implying that he’s asleep right now. You don’t want to look too much into the logistics of that. The thought of seeing Hux again makes you sick.

You pass through another door and find that you’re in Hux’s courtyard again. With the walls that ascend high above you, there’s some judgment to be made on where you are concerning a supposed exit.

Your foot drags forward for another step, but it’s caught under you. Now that your balance is messed up, you fall forward, catching yourself on your hands and pushing yourself up in a planking position.

You look under yourself to see a woman wearing pure white clothing, a cowl resting on her neck. Brown hair tied back into three buns, her lips parted at not only your size but your lack of clothes.

“Sorry,” maneuver around into a crouching position, offering a hand to get her on her feet. She takes your hand to a standing position, still unable to reach your eye level.

“No, it’s alright. You just startled me.” She reassures you, “You’re the otherlandian, aren’t you?”

“That’s me,” You admit, knowing that the only person not wearing red (besides you) isn’t associated with Hux. “Who are you?”

“I’m Rey,” she smiles softly, “The white queen of mamoreal sent me to rescue you.” Her face is full of hope and determination. She’s spirited and certainly brave. You wish you had any of those three aspects right now, you’re only trying to get out of here from fear of another punishment and the word of another.

Another kingdom? Even if someone is to “rescue” you, it doesn’t mean they are representing the better cause, just the opposite. Also, knowing what and where you are doesn’t sound too reassuring. You’ve been burned before when it came to playing nice.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask, following the small woman through the courtyard. She leaps over small bushes and beds of flowers.

“Nivens,” She answers quickly, taking a sharp left into a hedge maze that goes just above your head.

“What?” You trail behind her with smaller steps, leaning down to confirm what you just heard. Was it a name? A place? An item? Knowing how strange this world is turning out ot be, it could be all three.

“The white rabbit you’ve been following.” She glances over her shoulder to look at you, “You haven’t been here for long, have you?”

“No. And now isn’t the best time to have this conversation.” The garden tiles echo with the sound of heavy, metalic footsteps. The metal singing of their heart-shaped spears rings out, reaching the garden.

“Agreed.” She nods firmly. You raise your head, seeing the panic start to spew out and spread through all Hux’s card subjects. You can’t imagine what he does to them as a form of punishment. You can see Rey reach for something out of your peripheral vision.

You push Rey behind a decorative statue, big enough to hide both of you. Crouching, you peer out to see a bunch of stewards and guards dashing all over the place.

“THE KING’S PET IS MISSING!” Panic ensues tenfold, horns blare, and more footsteps shake the castle grounds.

“Shit.” You hiss, picking up Rey and running through the maze, emptying near the giant chessboard, the only section of the garden that lacks any security view from above.

“Sorry about that.. It’s the only area here that I know we’ll be unseen for the time being. Do you know a way out from here?” You ask, setting Rey down.

She doesn’t say anything at first, walking slowly to the chess pieces, entranced. She looks at every single one. Her stoicism quickly lost, now somber and weak as her fingers trace the god-like craftsmanship of the chess pieces.

“Of course,” she grunts, sounding more upset at herself than anything else, “here of all places.”

“Now isn’t the time for this!” You urge, the commotion reaching the edge of the garden, you’ll both be found out soon if Rey continues to dwell like this.

“I know!” she snaps, and you flinch back, eyes wide. Her hostility fades, her disposition turning to regret.

“Sorry,” She says, walking closer to you, “You have a point.”

“I don’t think I can get out of here without being seen.” You admit, crouching to meet her level.

“You’ll need this,” Rey hands you the bottle of Pishalver from the Room of Doors. “Drink it all, it’ll be easier to get you out of here.”

You pinch the bottle between your fingers, eying the small cork. huh. You never thought of yourself to be too big to open anything before… Well, there’s a first for everything.

“Mind opening it for me?” Rey pulls the cork out without questioning you. Thanking her, you bring the bottle to your lips, drinking it all.

You cover your mouth, holding in the coughs as your height leaves you. The world is rapidly expanding around you. Rey grabs the bottle before it smashes on the ground and you.

“We’ll get you some proper clothes when we reach Mamoreal, more than just that locket.” She reassures you, setting you on her cowl.

There’s an additional pocket space in her scarf, so you tuck yourself in and get out of sight.

Just in time, too! You feel Rey sprint and then leap. Jumping to higher and higher ground. You don’t dare let go, because she’s your ticket to freedom right now, and you want out more than anything.

“Intruder!” A card shouts, drawing their spear at Rey.

Rey charges forward, sweeping the legs of the card and pushing it backward, toppling the soldiers over like dominoes. You almost laugh at their dismay, even at a small height, you wonder if they were even a threat to you at all.

Rey is sprinting, the wind from her speed rushing into your ears. She moves so fast you can barely hear the pitter-patter of her feet. Just her steady breaths as she navigates this enormous castle.

Though she skids to a stop, you jerk forward, interwining yourself more with her clothes.

“If it isn’t the scavenger.” Phasma taunts, her robotic voice gnawing at your patience, “The King of Hearts will be pleased to see you here. In my grasp. He’ll be so pleased to finally take off your head.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Rey responds, and the armored woman charges forward. Phasma swings her spear at Rey, and she dives out of the way, curling her body into a roll before standing upright.

Rey kicks the bend of Phasma’s knee, putting the knight off balance. So, she pulls Phasma down by her shoulder blades, slamming her onto the ground.

Your saviour then jumps over something, falling for quite a bit.

She lands without shock, charging away from the palace and into the desolate wastelands of Crim’s countryside.

…

Hux watches from the balcony, unfazed by this “rescue” orchestrated by one of Mirana’s pawns.

Her scouts were always so easy to spot on palace grounds. Searching for something without any clue, it’s always the same thing.. until now.

The boldness of a kingdom whose queen took a vow never to harm any living thing. Truly, she has harmed him by taking his new favorite person.

The door to his chambers bursts open, Kylo charges in, “My leige, the girl she’s taken your pet.” His face is red, his brow glistening from sweat.

“Give me the word,” Kylo drops to his knees, reaching out for Hux, “I will never fail you. I will bring their heads back to you. I’ll-“

Hux presses a gloved finger to Kylo’s lips, “Now’s not the time for slaughter.” Kylo closes his eyes, inhaling sharply. He holds onto Hux’s hand, kissing it.

With his free hand, Hux pulls out a golden chain from his pocket, attached to the end of it is a device.

A compass, rather than pointing north, points to the woman in white running away from the castle grounds.

It’ll come..

In all due time.

Chapter Text

Rey dashes through the wasteland of Crims, kicking up a dust trail behind her. Her long strides tousle you in her cowl as she continues her daring escape.

Truly, she’s running as if she’s the one who’s on the run. You admire her tenacity, but then again, this is a life-threatening situation you both escaped from. Can’t blame the hysteria and adrenaline rush from it all.

You wrestle with the cloth, trying to surface after being buried in it for your safety.

“Are we safe yet?” You ask, craning your body back to at least see her jaw. She’s breathing heavily through her nose so as not to constantly exhale on you… A kind thought, but she looks exhausted. You feel bad, all because you want to walk on your own, or better yet, be on your own way.

“We’re never safe,” Rey breathes out, and you stiffen. She slows her speed to a brisk jog, heaving through her mouth. She casts her eyes down at you,

“Are the guards still on our trail?” You roll your eyes, waiting for a more genuine answer from Rey.

“No,” she answers, “But I can never be so sure.” 

“Mmh, that’s fair.” You stare out at the scenery, and it’s still a wasteland. However, a decent distance away from Rey is vegetation, and slightly farther out is a forest. No doubt where you were taken from.

She jogs at this new, slower pace, “I need to make a stop. Some people need to come with us to Mamoreal.”

“You’re speaking like you don’t have the reins in this operation.” You murmur, “But thanks for letting me know.”

“You’re welcome,” The foliage starts to reach her ankles, having more color, more lively. Yeah, this is the woods you were in before. You feel like a completely different person now.

“We’re heading to the March Hare’s house. Although he went missing, the people who miss him will be strong allies to the White Queen’s cause.”

“Her cause?” You arch a brow.

This doesn’t sound good.

“To rule Underland,” Rey answers like it’s absolute, set in stone, “There will be peace amongst these lands, and nobody will know fear like now.”

Yup, just what you thought. Two sides of the same coin. Rule rather than give it to the people. There are more capable decisions that could be made with a group of well-rounded thinkers rather than an out-of-touch monarch.

Though you swore that this place was called Wonderland.

Odd.

Rey reaches the edge of the forest, her strides slowing to a walk. Her breaths are deep and fast. You rise and fall with her cowl, occasionally feeling her sternum press against your body.

“Thank you for this.” You say, “For helping me out of there. I had no Idea where to go.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles, but her eyes are on the trees. She’s careful; the foliage is very thick here, with mushrooms towering over her. Using them as cover, she tries her best to silence her breathing. Her steps are planned on the spot, trying to be as stealthy as possible.

Your mind wanders again as she walks. Remembering that she called this place “Underland” instead of what Luke called it, “Wonderland.” Was it based on the location? The forest being Wonderland, and Hux’s castle, Underland?

It’s all so confusing to you, and you feel less inclined to explore it all when Hux and Kylo are after your body. With their card soldiers out to get you, and Kylo most likely leading them.

The thought of them makes your body ache, yearn for their touch. The kisses that make you feel like you’re the only one left in the world, high on a pedestal.

You know, they could’ve done more. Kylo was holding back, and Hux barely used the knife after bringing it out. Your chain wasn’t used much- Your face heats up as your fantasies affect your nether regions. You bite your lip, shielding your face from the forest’s light.

Mitaka is very much right about their punishment, fucking you so good -despite how big you were at the time. Then leaving you in a sweaty mess, alone. Their end goal is to make you a loyal dog that’ll roll over at a mere glance.

You bring your knees to your chest, shimmying back under Rey’s cowl….

Until you heard something. 

Voices, music.

Laughter.

You crawl back up. “Where are we?” You ask, seeing multiple tables brought together, chairs lining both sides, with a big, cushy brown chair at the head of the table.

“A friend’s house.” Rey murmurs, “We’re here to pick up the others before we head to mamoreal.”

“The others?” You feel like an annoying child with all the questions you’re asking.

“You’ll see,” she responds, stepping into the open. Vague as ever, but the “others” in question are soon to be revealed.

The music gets louder, coherent as Rey gets closer. You find that there is only one person sitting at the table, a man. Pale in the face with loud, pompous clothing, topping it off with a heavily worn top hat resting on his wild, curly red hair.

“Tarrant.” Rey’s voice catches the wild gaze of the eccentrically dressed man, “Griblig day has passed-“ She shuts her mouth at the noises of excitement coming from Tarrant.

“Alice has returned?!” His grim face brightens, and he’s on his feet. A big, toothy grin is across his (pale?) face. His eyes were changing colors between blue and green.

“No, someone else from Otherland.” Rey’s hand reaches for the cowl, her fingers hook around the edges.

“Who?” two other voices join Tarrant. The clinking of teacups follows.

Rey pulls back the cowl, revealing you, “Introduce yourself.” You’re still naked, save for the heart-shaped pendant you woke up with, the only thing Hux didn’t cut.

Full display, for a person, a cat, and a mouse.

Tarrant pulls back, “Oh! Pardon me!” Shielding his eyes with his hands, he pulls back. The mouse does the same thing, hopping off Rey’s cowl, and the cat just… disappears?….What?

This has to be the absolute worst way to introduce yourself.

You sigh, giving yourself a nervous introduction while two out of three people who just saw you naked are present to hear it.

Wonderful. You found it. The bottom of the barrel.

“Where is Alice?!” The mouse yells, her voice high and loud, “What have you done to her?” She pulls out a needle and begins to swing it at you.

You tumble back, falling into a different fold as the mouse hopped in, swinging at you. She’s shouting and trying her hardest to kill you. Well, now you know that it can always get worse…

“Mally, please!” Rey pulls the mouse out of her cowl. “Now is not the time for this!” Mally yelps, screaming intangibly and charges for you, only to be caught in Rey’s hands once more.

Tarrant spontaneously gets his spunk back, “Well! Now that you’re both here, we can have some tea.”

“Now isn’t the best time to do such things,” Rey stops the hatter in his tracks, “I love a good cup myself, but none of us have the luxury of safety at the moment.” Mally squirms in her hands, screaming, wishing this “Alice” person were here instead of you.

“Right,” Tarrant deflated, the wings on his bowtie folding in on themselves.

“Chess?” Rey tilts her torso back, turning around to find where the cat had disappeared to, yelping when the cat appears right next to her head, you catch sight of a striped blue tail curling into view.

“Never been one for politics,” Chess muses, his back hunching at Tarrant’s orange-eyed glare, “But I’ll accompany you.”

“Then it’s best we be on our way,” Rey takes charge again, “To Mamoreal."

Chapter Text

To say that the group is chatty would be an understatement.

You’re surprised that the group hasn’t been found out by Red Knights or their scouts due to the volume. You’re biting the inside of your cheek as you hear the voices of the group echo over the trees. Hell, some birds even scattered from the noise.

Mally—transferred to Tarrant’s hat per his suggestion— seems to have a new insult for you not being Alice every five to ten steps. (You counted; her average is seven.)

Tarrant would—without fail— try to give the livid doormouse a new perspective. His bubbly voice never wavers, seeming to have a new concept to talk to the mouse about how you could be great.

Chess would chime in when he felt like it, more so when he was bored. Though, even he seemed partial to this Alice person, even after claiming, “I’m not one for politics.” Hmph…..

Rey has been silent, just leading the group forward through the mess of trees. She’s pushing back abnormally large foliage out of the way or helping the group up a hill. Scaling it with her athleticism and then offering her hand to Tarrant.

You don’t bother speaking either. You only introduced yourself, and even that felt like you said enough. You sway as Rey walks through the forest with an optimistic human, a pessimistic mouse, and an evaporating cat.

What a crew!

Foliage turned to colorful fields, where flowers would speak to the group. Mally’s consistent insults stopped as she had a chat with the flowers. Somehow, she’s gotten them to sing as the group walks past.

“Do you still sing?” she peeps, you can picture her big brown eyes on full show to the sentient flowers.

“Yes, we do!” A pansy answers, smiling at the mouse. The edges of their petals curl into themselves before unfurling.

“How about a Golden afternoon?” Her voice was innocent, hopeful. Almost making you think she’s been a cute little mouse this whole time… Then you remember the number of death threats you’ve gotten from the last hour alone.

“Not now, Mally.” Tarrant hushes the mouse, “Maybe after the Frabjous day.” You hear a vaporial “poof” followed by the faintest sound of purring.

“Speaking of which, that day isn’t far out,” The cat muses, “Is the vorpal sword in the white queen’s possession?”

“No,” Rey sighs, holding in any signs of vulnerability, “It’s still in the pedestal in her garden.” You press your brows together, pushing your body into the light to look at Rey’s tightened jaw.

“Pity,” the cat’s voice gets louder, drifting closer to Rey, “It does, however, make a perfect centerpiece.” The cat hovers into view, his purring getting louder as his pupils expand.

“That’s not what we need right now.” Rey grits her teeth, tilting her head toward the cat.

“Ah,” You exhale in thought, tucking yourself back into the cowl. You cross your legs, planting your elbows in the bend of your knees. You lean forward, resting your face in the palm of your right hand.

A sword on the property of the white queen, yet they can’t get it for some reason… Either her garden is an overgrown nightmare with plant monsters. Or, this is a sword adjacent to the fabled Excalibur. Only the worthy can pull it out. You suppose this is also why everyone—outside of Luke and Absolem—was hoping you were this “Alice” person.

Rey must’ve attempted to get the sword out more than once, by how upset she looks. Prophecy type shit never seems to sit well on the “I trained my entire life” people. It makes you wonder if that’s why she sees you as… well, what you are currently, even when you were three times her height.

“We need to get to safety,” Rey reinforces, “We can consult the oracle and strategize.” 

“And have some tea.” Tarrant chirps, “We’re long overdue, after all.” Despite everything, he is still so bubbly. Though with a demeanor like that, he’s most likely gone through much worse.

“We will, Hatter.” Rey says, “And the White queen will be happy to have a hightop in her court once more.”

“Yes, the Hightops have always hatted the finest rulers in Underland,” Tarrant’s voice goes dry, weaker than before, “I’ll make the finest hats, the grandest hats, the hatsthatnobodlywilleverthelikehaveseenbeforetheirtyime-“

“Hatter!” Rey turns back, raising her voice, stopping Tarrant’s spiral. 

“I’m fine,” He forces out, “Thank you.”

Rey sighs and continues her journey, the rest quiet as they trail behind her. Mally didn’t even have an insult for you this time. The cat disappeared again…

Rather than sulking like the rest of the group, you take in the surroundings. The mountains that surround these lands are tall, all donning beautiful streams of water that break off into separate waterfalls at their base.

In the heart of this place, across a field of soft green grass, is a proud castle so flawless that it may as well have been a secret sculpture made out of marble amongst the artists of the past.

The palace glows in the sun’s light, not a cloud in sight either. The grounds have cherry blossoms and white roses. Truly, beautiful.

“We’re home,” Rey breathes out.

…

As you suspected, like Hux’s court donning red to match him, the white queen’s court consisted of three or four people decked out in pure white clothing. Even their hair. Though they all seem to be wearing black eye makeup and lipstick, a nice contrasting touch.

“Welcome back to Mamoeral.” Their voices are kind, patient. “The white queen is expecting you.” They turn to the castle, leading the group inside.

Although they are the ones bringing the interesting cast that is your travel party, Rey is walking like the court members weren’t there at all. She might as well have said she was the queen, and you’d believe her. 

Twists and turns, just like Hux’s castle, lead the travelers to large double doors. Two guards with armor that resembles chess pieces, the knights specifically, open the doors on both sides, revealing the throne.

A woman in a white, poofy gown waits at the far wall, sitting on a turquoise throne atop marble steps. More of her court watches behind the pillars, leading down to whom you can only assume is the queen. You catch sight of a white rabbit hopping into your peripheral view, resting against a pillar as Rey leads everyone closer to the woman.

“You’ve returned,” The white queen says, a pleased smile spreads across her lips as she rises out of her throne.

“Your majesty,” Rey bends her knees, lowering her head before straightening up as the white queen closes in.

“Were they there?” The white queen asks, her eyes big, hopeful. Her hands rest on Rey’s upper arms, moving up and down.

Rey nods, raising her hand to pull at her cowl once more, revealing you. She sees you, but doesn’t gasp, doesn’t make a scene at your nudeness. Rather, she’s more relieved and a bit humored that was how you got here. She knows of worse, so there is no judgment.

You haven’t been here for long, and yet, you feel safer than you did before you fell down here days ago.

“You’re a bit smaller than I imagined,” She smiles, addressing you without looking at you.

“It was best to conceal my size to escape Salezen Grum.” You explain, bowing, “You’re majesty.”

“Let’s get you to a proper size then,” The white queen whispers to you, cupping her hands and extending her arms out to Rey, “And some clothing too.”

“Please,” You peep, stepping into her hands, lowering your body to allow her fingers to curl over you, hiding you from the gazes of the other people in the room. “I feel that you’re the only person present other than Rey to spare my dignity.”

She carries you to a small room tucked away from the more traveled halls, but not before she swipes a white top and light grey pants from a closet. Draping them over her forearms—sandwiching undergarments between the articles of clothing, and she picks up black slip-ons.

“You are not the first escapee from Armitage’s castle, and certainly not in this style before either.” She explains, “So I took a vow of mercy, to give help to anyone when they need it. So, I had closets and dressing rooms installed throughout the castle. So that anyone can be clothed right away.”

“That’s very kind of you.” You state the obvious, though she already knows it. Though she’s not doing it for favor, rather, for the betterment of the residents of this strange world.

“Thank you,” She smiles, carrying you to a tucked-away kitchen. She sets you atop a corked bottle of white wine, amongst other things. Jars full of things you can’t quite recognize, open bowls full of spices with all sorts of colors.

The smells are strong, well, you are dangling above it all….. at least the height doesn’t bother you anymore, falling from such a great height to get here will do that to you.

The white queen glides to a wall, where a sink and mirror are, she opens a thin closet next to it, and pulls out a translucent screen, thick enough to give you some semblance of privacy.

She returns to the marble counter with her hands raised, her middle and ring fingers on bother her hands are curled. Without even trying, she’s beautiful, graceful.

“Pishalver and Upelkuchen aren’t used as frequently as you may think.” The white queen says, bringing out a mixing bowl and a few cooking utensils, “They’re only meant to be used in small dosages, meant to have freedom over your height.”

She dangles her hand above measuring cups, drifting left or right as she hums. There isn’t a recipe in sight, so she’s doing this from memory.

“Though, in the rare cases, it does have its practical uses; you came in through the room of doors, so it’s best that I don’t waste my breath.”

“It’s alright,” You reassure her, and she smiles at you. Positively beaming at your gesture, though you’re not sure why, it was merely your acceptance and patience.

The white queen picks up the biggest measuring cup, scooping it into a bag twice, adding two cups of flour into the bowl.
“Oh!” You nearly jump at your sudden memory, you’re embarrassed that you didn’t say something before.

“What is it?” She whispers, “Are you alright?” You just stare at her for a moment, lost in her brown eyes. You shift a little bit on the cork. 

You shake out of your stupor, “Yes, sorry. When I was in Hux’s throne room, he said the room of doors was supposed to be sealed off.”

She nods, sagely, dipping the cup into another bag, adding one cup of sugar into the mixing bowl, “It’s not my story to tell as to how they got sealed, but I will tell you why.”

You wait with bated breath, leaning forward, but stopping yourself before you overbalance and fall into a bowl of spice.

She sets down the measuring cup and pops open a jar, “With the threat of the frabjous day, the king of hearts sent his knave to seal all gateways we share with Otherland.”

“So nobody from Otherland could come in and make that happen?” You conclude, tilting your head to the side, unsure of your answer.

“Precisely,” She smiles, reaching into the jar, “A pinch of fungas.” She drops a teal, grainy substance into the bowl.

“I have no idea what the Fabjous day is.” You admit.

“It’s the day an Otherlandian pulls the vorpal sword out of the pedestal and slays the biggest threat the king of hearts has: The Jabberwocky.” She smiles, pointing a spoon at you before mixing the ingredients, “Armitage will give up his reign, and we will all be at peace.”

She closes the jar of “Fungas” and pops open another one.

“Just like that?” With how he treated you, it doesn’t sound right.

“Yes, just like that,” She smiles.

“That sounds too good to be true.” You admit, pressing your brows.

“A pinch of Worm fat,” she murmurs, dropping more grainy substance into the bowl. “Yes, but the rules here are held to the utmost importance. I’m aware of Otherland and its history of…” She pauses, “revolutions.”

“To put it nicely, yeah.” She nods, closing the jar, and then grabs the tongs, pulling out a long, very wet substance.

“Tongue of a blowfish,” she says, and you nearly gag. She smiles at your face, “You’re the first to give me that face.”

“The ingredients sound preposterous.”

“Blowfish makes you grow,” She flutters her eyelashes at you while she stirs the mix, as if you’re the stupid one. You peer down to no longer see a mound of white, but rather, moist batter.

She grabs a familiar green plant, dropping it in, “A pinch of thyme.”

“Three coins from a dead man's pocket,” she says, dropping three quarters into the mix. Then, moving to a container, scooping up a thick, white substance, “Two tablespoons of Wishful Thinking.”

She smiles, bending down.

AND SPITTING IN THE BOWL

“What the fuck?!”

“A necessary ingredient,” She smiles as if she did nothing wrong, giving the bowl a good stir before pouring it into a pastry pan with a bunch of square indents in it. Then, she slides it into the oven

…

You flinch when she hands you a crumb of the cake.

Once you take it from her, she spins around, giving you privacy.

You consume the cake, and despite what you saw, the process of its creation, it tastes just like a cake. So…. you leap off the cork and land on the ground at your normal height. Picking up the clothes set aside, you quickly step behind the screen, getting dressed.

Not too long after, you emerge fully clothed, comfortable. Maybe a little bit normal for once.

“Ah! You love lovely,” the white queen claps her hands, pressing them together, “Humor me, won’t you?”

“Hm?” You tilt your head to the side, “Oh! Yes, of course!” You spin around, showing off the clothing to her. She smiles, showing her pearly white teeth for a moment before her eyes spot the heart-shaped neckwear as you approach her.

“And that pendant.” She muses, her immaculately manicured fingers raise the necklace up, the chain going slack, “Do you want something more… silver?”

Your hands ghost hers, the memories of Hux’s soft lips claiming you and Kylo’s devotion flutter around like butterflies, settling in your stomach and setting aflame.

“I’d-“ You swallow, “I’d like to keep it on, please.”

“Of course,” She flutters her eyelashes.

“Thank you.”

“Your majesty,” Rey knocks on the doorframe, “We have much to discuss.”

The white queen doesn’t say anything, just a bit perturbed by Rey’s sudden appearance. You’re clothed this time, thankfully.

“I know the whereabouts of the red queen.”

“Irracebeth?!” She whispers-shouts, her voice going weak. Her eyes getting watery, “She’s alive?!”

“It’s hard to say,” Rey responds. At least her ominous responses make more sense. It has to be about the chessboard in Hux’s garden.

Now that you think about it, that ornament stands out far more than you thought it would. The castle’s theme is playing cards, more so the heart motif over anything, but cards nonetheless.

Though judging Rey’s reaction when she was there, the board is important. But for what?

Judging by how Rey looks at you, it’s unlikely that you’re going to find out. That idea is further enhanced when the white queen follows Rey’s gaze to you.

“I promise to speak with you soon,” She says, taking your hands, clasping them in her own. “The oracle would like to meet you. She’s in the library.”

“I’ll see you later, your majesty.” You mimic the bowing motion that Rey did when first arriving here. You step ou of the kitchen, waving to the white queen and stepping away from the door.

The door shuts behind you.

Chapter Text

You can still hear the hushed whispers of the two ladies even from outside the kitchen.

Frowning, you step away from the doors, not even bothering to eavesdrop. Either it’s mistrust or an earlier theory, but Rey has not been fair to you. Despite assisting in saving you.

It’s not like you can do anything about it now. No, you need to find the oracle. Keeping them waiting just so you could be nosy isn’t kind. Not to mention it’s stemmed from a bit of jealousy.

The white queen has been so kind to you, and you’ve barely known her for long, but she’s the most open to you. Considering that you are here may not be an accident or coincidence.

You walk slowly, simmering in your thoughts. You don’t know where the library is, you should’ve asked… Well, it’s a little too late now.

Your head hangs low, and a sigh escapes your lips. Though, your gaze doesn’t rest on the floor for long, you catch sight of perfectly polished shoes.

“The white queen informed me that you are needed in the library.” They bow, “I am your escort.”

“Oh, I see.” You stiffen at the sight of them. You never seem to be alone anymore, it makes you wonder if you’ve been watched since you fell down here.

“You don’t have to walk far!” The escort chirps, thinking that’s what’s worrying you.

“Ah, thank you.” You smile, “Lead the way.”

They are right, the library isn’t far. It’s two lefts from where you are. Large, ornate double doors greet you as you walk down the hall.

Two guards with white pawn helmets see you and pull open the doors.

“You are the Oracle?” You ask, stepping into the library, towards the woman. She has seen her years, but far too tough to be frail. Your escort curtsies and steps out of view.

“A flattering name,” She waves you off, “But I am just its overlooker. The archivist or historian, as you Otherlandians call it.”

“The only thing I need to look over history with is the Oraculum.” She adds, “How are you? Be honest, please.”

“I don’t think I can lie about it even if I tried,” You say, huffing the most believable laugh. Which earns a raised eyebrow from her.

“I was enjoying this place, at first.” You say, “Then I got captured, and then rescued-“ Your face sours as you gloss over the constant insults and

“There’s more,” She presses, “You’re overwhelmed, take your time.” Her eyes are warm, the kindest, truest eyes you’ve seen in a long time, including outside of Wonderland.

Though you see something in her, it’s familiar…

“May I get your name before I spill my guts out to you?”

She chokes on air, “How rude of me! I am Leia Organa. You can just address me as Leia.”

“Leia, I feel like I’ve upset everyone,” You admit, “The Hatter and a cat that disappears-“ Leia raises a finger at you, patient, and you’re not even mad as you pause. 

“Chess.” Leia corrects you, though not as an action out of rudeness, but rather, so that you know. Her smile is warm, not demeaning.

“Chess,” You repeat for clarity, continuing after you got a reassuring nod from Leia, “And Mally are all upset that I am not Alice.”

Leia hums, extending her hand to take yours. She leads you to the scroll that doesn’t end: “They assumed too much.” You watch as she unravels it, despite the woven canvas appearing at a set size, it stretches on forever.

“The Griblig day was the day an Otherlandian would arrive in Underland,” Leia explains, resting a finger on the scroll’s illustration. A small, human-shaped speck was falling into the ocean. It’s illustrated the same way you fell down here, arms spread out wide. 

“It never said that Alice would return,” She says, “Regardless of what land people come from, they will always be upset at something they don’t understand.”

“Who is Alice?” It’s about time you get some answers about the person that everyone wanted you to be.

“A little girl had to be,” She purses her lips in thought, “Six, perhaps? She came the same way you did; rather, she entered a different door in the room of doors. A cute, curious, and polite lady, with a tangled mess of blonde hair.”

“Everyone got baby fever,” You conclude, “Not a thing to be ashamed of, but I wasn’t expecting cuteness aggression to reach a level where a mouse would try to kill me.” The absurdity of it all makes you laugh a little, despite everything.

“Not what you think.” Leia raises a finger, “She didn’t quite understand the culture here. Offended nearly everyone, got put on trial because of it.”

“She escaped by a means nearly impossible to this very day,” She sighs, “Though I know for certain that mess has Chessur’s paws all over it.”

“When did that happen?” Your voice pulls her out of her reminiscence.

“She fell down here….why,” Leia presses her brows in thought, “I can’t recall how long it’s been, longer now than it seems. It had to be when-” Her face goes grim, and she turns away from you.

Her shoulders raised, though, somehow far more alert than vulnerable….Just like- You feel a pit form in your stomach, flashes of his face appear in your head. Your body throbs as more pieces are put together of this mess of a puzzle.

“He has your eyes,” You murmur, “I should’ve recognized it sooner.”

Leia smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, ironically enough, “I had a feeling you’d figure that out, though faster than I expected.”

“Recognition sparks at its brightest when the source is fear.” You whisper, stepping back, toward the large double doors that led you here in the first place.

“What did he do to you?” Her voice is low, grave. She reaches for you, but you flinch, raising your arms to cover your chest.

You shy away from her further, and that tells her enough. Something has been taken from you, a birthright, and you’ll never get it back, not in its pure form.

“Luke was once the knight of the king and queen of Witzend.” Leia says, “He wielded the Vorpal sword, the bearer for the time, should the threat of the Jabberwock surface.”

“My son, Ben, wanted so desperately to fight for the throne’s honor. He learned loyalty and grew strong. Luke sparred with him during his exhibition match,” her eyes got glassy. “He was just knighted; he was so excited to follow in his uncle’s footsteps.”

“Luke went all out, and they both did. But he sliced Ben’s eye,” She dabs at her eyes, straightening her posture, “Something must’ve been troubling Ben, he snapped that day. He disappeared in the lands of Crims, and Luke in self-exile out of guilt.”

You know what happened, Leia does too.. “He’s the Knave of Hearts. Obsessed with his king, and..”

“You,” Leia finishes, your train of thought, “He changed his name too, wanted nothing to do with the people who spent his entire life dedicated to him.”

Dedication? And not nurturing? Loving? What a proper mother is supposed to do.

There are more pieces to this puzzle than meet the eye. And something like that doesn’t sit well with you. Maybe there’s a snake in this garden, too.

“What he did to you..” She says, “- he is not my son anymore.” She leans on a table, trying her hardest to be strong. Though it’s hard for a mother to bear the atrocities her son has committed.

No matter the world, no matter its politics. A mother never wants her child to be evil.

You change the subject, “The white queen spoke of a day called the Frabjous day. It’s a threat to Hux’s entire kingdom, but that’s all I know about it.”

“It is.” Her expression softens, “A momentous day for Underland.” She rolls the scroll out more, revealing the next order of events in illustrations. The future.

She rests her finger over the drawing of you falling from the sky, dragging it across the other illustrations of your journey here. One of you resting in bed with maids tending over you, and another of you kneeling before Hux.

There are a few drawings that you can’t quite see because Leia blocks her body with them.

“Here we are,” She sighs, “The frabjous day.”

It’s an armored silhouette, swinging a sword at a flying beast… There are more images after it, but you can’t make them out either.

“I-“ You falter, “I must kill it?”

Like possessed, Leia says:

“’ Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.”

“Although the poem refers to the knight as a he, we care less about what you are rather than where you are from.” Leia smiles, “It’s about you. This is your destiny.”

“My destiny.”

“Yes,” She smiles.

“One that you cannot fight against.”

Chapter Text

You step back, away from the table, away from your future.
“I-“ words got caught in your throat. The thought of taking a life, no matter what it is, makes your stomach churn.

“Is everything alright?” Leia is just now gauging your reaction. Her firm gaze when reciting that poem loosens into concern. Your continuing steps away from the scroll only provoke her further.

Your voice fails you, words don’t come out, and you can’t even think of any that could get you out of this situation.

Her arm extends out to you, hand open for you, “We can help you, there’s no need to fear it.”

Your heart pounds against your chest; that’s exactly what you didn’t want to hear right now. Your vision unfocuses with stress, making it harder for you to recognize Leia’s face.

You take another step back, and Leia calls to you once more, nearly repeating herself, “There’s no need to fear this!”

That seals the deal. You bolt out of the room, speeding past the guards and many rooms in this strange place. Their chess piece helmets turned to you, appalled, by your outburst.

The last thing you hear from Leia is her trademark exhausted sigh, followed by, “Seize them.”

Shit.

The guards take off after you, their loud footsteps banging through the desolate halls. Their spears pointed at your backside as you zip through the halls.

You shouldn’t have let your guard drop, if you even had one in the first place. Though these natural feelings, the fight or flight response, it’s all new to you.

To have some form of stakes in a battle you never wanted to be a part of; Compared to constantly being on the losing side of starting a career for yourself. It’s overwhelming..

You lips part, breathing heavily— not loud enough to drown out the increasing number of guards in pursuit. Their stomps grow infrequent, forced, rushed; anything to get closer to you. You don’t even bother looking over your shoulder, you’re afraid enough already.

Your air gets squeezed out of your lungs, a side stitch forming at your abdomen. You bite down, a curse forming at the back of your throat. You literally had no time to take care of yourself. From one captor to the next.

Shouts echo the halls, more and more people within the confines of the castle are becoming aware of the chosen one running away from their forced future.

Heads poke out of the doors you zip by, wide eyes and gaping mouths of the residents fade in and out of view. Gasps from the white queen’s loyal subjects are muted amongst the excitement in these hallowed halls.

You pass intersections, catching glimpses of more guards joining the chase. The hunt, to get the most grandiose stag in the kingdom.

You catch a glance of the Hatter’s colorful fashion choices. His wide, multi-colored eyes watch your every movement, just like the cat that appeared next to him. He’s surprised, but you catch the faintest sight of hurt as you continue to run from the palace guards.

They start to shout, with the sheer number of them, their voices carry throughout the rest of the castle. More and more heads poke out into view, quickly reeling back in shock when a person from another realm is running from a good chunk of the queen’s malita.

Though it doesn’t bother you as much as it did before, when you spot natural light peeking through a large set of double doors.
You brace yourself, slamming your upper arm into the heavy door. Giving you enough room to slip out.

What awaits you is a-

hedge maze….

Despite the unease settling in your stomach, you charge forward, getting into the maze and starting to take wild turns from the get-go.

*BANG*

The doors you had just exited moments prior slam open, hitting the outer walls as you hear the hundreds of feet stampede into this place.

You don’t detect any change in their emotion at your choice in hiding; you were really hoping for them to be upset—you’d know that you'd gained the upper hand by then.

The feeling of déjà vu floods your body, making you sick to your stomach as you run through the white queen’s gardens.

The only obvious difference is the difference in flower colors. White rather than the many shades of red.

Just as perfectly maintained as its counterpart. Something so pretty, so meticulously maintained, that it may be another section in the Versailles garden.

A shame that you can’t admire it, just like the last time.

It seems that you’re always running for your life. Home or here, you never seem to be winning.

You shift your weight, pivoting against the sharp turns in this labyrinth. Left, left, right, right, you’ve done this before…

This isn’t what you wanted.

The voices, the shouting to just grab you and be done with it, grow louder; harder to deal with. Echoing from the hedges to your left and right.

Despite none of them knowing where you are within this maze, it’s far more frightening than when you were in the castle halls; it’s Harder to stay calm as you run.

Your sides are screaming in pain, your body throbs with your ever-tightening leg muscles. Your vision tunnels, dots obscuring the light of the outside world.

You skid to a stop, seeing a pedestal at the center of the circle, the heart of the garden. Your eyes are wide, mouth agape.

Perched within it, rests a sword that gleams so brightly that the purest form of silver could never match.

Out of everywhere you could’ve run to. You still find yourself here. Unable to change fate, your frightening destiny rests before you. Beckoning to be pulled by your hands alone.

The one weapon that will end the conflict between the kingdoms.

The Vorpal Sword.

Your blood rushes to your ears, pounding harder than your heart. Your chest heaves with each breath as you gape at the glistening weapon.

It’s shimmering, gleaming in its resting place.
Calling to you.

Chapter Text

The sword hums, whispering to you, beckoning you to come forward.

Your hand raises in front of you, and you’re walking forward, hypnotized. Ignoring the sun beams peeping through the foliage onto the sword. The gleaming blade reflects in your eyes as you step closer and closer. In a trance, but not quite comatose.

You could, in theory, walk away at any time.

The voices of the outside drown out, from muffled to faded out. The chaos dissipates, and the world around you fades into a distant memory.

All that matters to you is the low humming of that sword. Nothing else matters before; it’s like the guards after you don’t exist.

Your fingers brush against the chappe, and you trace the intricate designs in the metal. Curves and swirls, intentional designs to enhance the purity. Your graze trails up to the grip, and you rest your hand around it.

The handle it’s warm. You’ve never felt like something belongs in your hand like this sword. Your free hand also takes hold of the sword.

It’s like your life has been just a journey to reach here. A treasure in the form of a blade, grasping it in its pedestal felt so right, it’s giving you a strength and confidence that you never thought

It’s like fate had brought you here.

Fate.

Destiny.

Your destiny.

To bear this sword and slay a horrific beast..

Your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, your hands spread out, stretching wide and open. You step back, yanking your arms back to your chest as if burned.

Your heart pounds so hard that it reaches your ears, and your breathing is heavy and labored. The presence of the outside world comes crashing in.

The marching of the soldiers grows louder, their voices and orders to find you.

“Here!” Your head whips around to the source of the voice, pearly-white greaves point at you from within the maze. A pawn scout steps into view, raising their spear.

At the alert of their brethren, the soldiers charge in, weapons pointed at you. Slowly stepping forward from all angles.

You raise your hands high, bringing them to the same height as your shoulders.

…

You’re tossed in a room, not too different than the room you were chained in before. It’s white opulence nearly mirrors Hux’s velvet decor. You wonder if it’s intentional.

The room smells like vanilla, and it lacks erotic and gruesome art that you’re familiar with in the rivaling kingdom. Rather, tranquil and pure forms of painting can sculpture can be seen. Like early Catholic paintings full of pure-hearted creatures, such as the unicorn, later banned because they believed mythical animals used as symbols for religious figures were considered discomforting to some.

However, the animal depicted across these media is what appears to be a Gryphon. All its sharp edges and intimidating features are illustrated there, but it’s always in a peaceful pose. Resting or sitting lax, never uptight. It’s unlike any works of art depicting the creature.

You’re brought back to the present when you hear the guards chat, faintly, but not distinct enough for you to make any sense of it. Just muted voices on the other side of the walls.

Yes, this is the parallel of what you recently escaped. Well, at least this time you’re not wearing a chain. And there is a balcony too.

You drift toward the window, peering outside. Like before, you’re incredibly high up. If you’re going to look at the view, it’s better seen when you’re outside, too.

Pushing open the thin doors, you step out onto the balcony. Resting near the barrier is a telescope, perfectly set up.

You walk closer, reaching the barrier ot see the view. It oversees the garden you just ran blindly in from the palace guards and soldiers alike.

You turn around to look back at the door you just went through, only to catch sight of a leather box with silver corner covers.

You kneel and open the latches, revealing a grey inside, with indents of where pieces should go. especially, the tiered cylindrical pieces of an optical tube.

You close the case, putting your head in your hands.
“God dammit.”

…

The sun had long since set when you got company.

Though you’ve heard familiar voices from outside your cell. Hatter, Rey, even Leia wanted in. Though the guards standing outside your door refused entry.

You didn’t mind being alone; it’s the first time you’ve been conscious in what feels like forever.

Though you remain on the balcony. It’s the longest you’ve been outdoors without someone in your ear.

That was until The white Queen shows up. You hear the guards step aside, and a polite knock follows. You don’t respond, but she comes in regardless.

“Your majesty.” You say, not even bothering to look over your shoulder.

“Call me Mirana.” She says, “This isn’t royal business.” She makes light of what happened hours ago…

“Alright then, Mirana.” You say, “What brings you here?”

“How have you been fairing?” Mirana asks, her careful footsteps carry her next to you, almost like an elegant glide. Like her kingdom, she radiates poise.

“Not well, even after the answers I’ve gotten.” You answer. No point in simmering in your problems. Soaking them in a pissy, passive-aggressive attitude will help absolutely nobody.

“Tell me,” her voice is soft, like summer rain. It makes you wonder how anyone would try to have her killed in the first place.

“Ever since I’ve fallen here, I was under the impression that this land encouraged me to find my own path or wander until I find purpose.” You start, “None of that has happened, whether it is being captured or rescued. Honestly, it’s like I’ve never left that cocktail party.”

“I get that’s out of my control,” you quickly add, “But being labeled as just Otherlandian and treated like I don’t know any better is…” You frown, vocalising your issue makes you far more upset than you thought.

“I’m more than capable of holding my own than the people I’ve met so far think I am.” You clarify, “It’s demeaning. It’s the treatment a child would receive after getting out of the hospital for a broken bone. I’m an autonomous person, just like the rest of them.” 

She listens, as if she’s always known that you’ve had this sitting with you.

“Did Rey tell you how she found me?” You ask, partially changing gears in the conversation.

“No, she did not.” Mirana answers, “Only that she rescued you from the palace.” She doesn’t look confused at all, though, you suppose that’s because her hatter is mad, bonkers even. She’s just listening.

“That’s what I thought.” You sigh, “She didn’t mention a thing about what I did. Though some of the things I did, she wasn’t there for.”

“She left out that I was originally thrice her height. I helped her a bit, leading her to something important to everyone here. Not to mention, I broke my own chains with my bare hands. I even saved one of Hux’s stewards from being caught speaking to me.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” You say aloud, “I fear that I’ll have to prove myself to her, and I’m not too happy about that.”

“You’ll have to prove it to everyone,” She says, her face crestfallen at your pain. 

“I figured.” You sigh, “I’m sure there are more than enough opportunities ahead that can help me with that.”

“You know what to do then,” her hands rest on your back. You want to crumple on the ground or leave. Anything to give you some alone time for once, at least without someone threatening you.

There’s a pregnant pause between you and the queen; you can feel her eyes piercing through you… Without saying anything, you know what she wants to discuss.

“Why did you run?” She whispers, her soft voice so fragile, so vulnerable. You almost feel bad for your actions, but it’s not enough to fully guilt you.

You sigh, your head drooping, finding more interest in the garden you were in hours before.

“Did you see me? In the garden?” You feel the hand resting on your back tighten. You know the answer now, but you wonder if she’s a good enough person to be honest.

“I did.” She breathes, as if telling the truth would kill her. That the sight of you being upset or disappointed would kill her.

You lower your head, “I know you did.” You repeat, “I know you did.”

You can feel her expression melting from calm to sad, open eyes that a child bears. Her pale face was losing all confidence under the moonlight.

So vulnerable, and yet, able to rule.

This place and its people will never make sense to you, that is for sure. It’s gotten on your nerves now, considering these people are the alleged “good guys.” Yet, you’re the one in a room that’s heavily guarded, only visited by the instruments of your demise.

Another cage disguised as a safe haven.

“Could it have been anyone?” You ask, turning your head to look at the white queen, “To fit the destiny that’s in the Frabjous day?”

Her upset demeanor put her in a state of stupor. She stirs ever so slightly, her wrists flicking up in a slight flinch as she takes note of your receptiveness.

The whole destiny thing and your denial of it all seemed to bother her; the prosperity and survival of this kingdom and all the subjects that remain within it rest on this prophecy.

“I’m so sorry. Do you mind repeating that?” She asks, “I’m afraid my mind was elsewhere.”

“That illustration in the Oracle, Orra-…” You sigh again, “The scroll that predicts the future, that could be anyone slaying that beast. Can it?”

The white queen processes your question properly, her eyes flicking from one of your pupils to the other. Her eyebrows press together, but not hard enough to form a crease.

“It could have,” She answers honestly, “The Oraculum prophesied the bearer of the sword to be anyone from Otherland.” 

You look out to the garden once more, and the faintest gleam of the vorpal sword peeps through the heart of the garden from the full moon’s light.

“Though, knowing how fate works.” She says, drawing you back to her, “That nothing happens without a reason.”

“No, it does not.” You turn back to your room, “I can’t say that I agree to my fate.” You turn around to look at the queen, and her expression falls.

“I need time to think,” You say, “It hasn’t been fair to me that so much is being pressed upon me, and yet I know nothing of it still.”

“Can you promise me that?” You ask, and she raises her head to look at you, “Can you give me time?”

She smiles sadly, but she understands. Though the fate has been written out on a scroll, you just want to see if she will give you the grace of momentary peace.

“I can try.”

Chapter Text

Armitage sits atop his throne with a leg crossed.

His eyes are normally at the wall ahead of him, a mural depicting his darling Jabberwocky clawing out previously big-name residents. Though this time, his eyes are set on a golden compass resting in his hand, a chain of the same metal is attached to the end of it, trailing into his pants pockets.

The compass is open, and he stares at it, mulling over a decision in his head. He wants to act now, but can’t bring himself to do it. Not right now, but it wouldn’t take a subtle push for him to agree.

The contents inside would likely confuse someone, but a simple explanation would convey everything they need to know. The most useful tools often appear confusing to others.

“Soon,” he thought, eyes flicking up to the sound of the groaning coming from the double doors. He ought to have them replaced, but that will be until later. There are more… pressing matters that require his attention.

His knave strides into the room, long legs carrying the abnormally tall man to his throne. Kylo kneels at his feet, no different than any other time. Though the gesture always means so much, he adores it.

He runs his hand through his knave’s soft black hair, smiling when he hears a sharp breath. He reaches down, placing his hands under Kylo’s chin, tilting the knave’s head back to meet his gaze.

“You’ve grown restless,” he comments, and Kylo’s nostrils flare a bit. A tick in the knave’s jaw, a subtle twitch. He sees it all. Years consisting of days like this, the repetitiveness never dulls.

He smiles, “Don’t deny it, I find it quite charming to see you like this.” Kylo crawls closer, and Armitage uncrosses his legs, spreading them. Kylos’ Adam’s apple bobs in anticipation.

“All this pent-up frustration,” Armitage taps Kylo’s eyepatch, tracing a finger along his scar, “And nowhere to put it.”

He leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to Kylo’s lips. The knave leans in, chasing the kiss after he pulls apart. Kylo’s eyes are glassy, full of conflict as he’s always been. Lost in thought, but vulnerable in the comfort of his king.

“Tell me,” Armitage whispers, “Do you miss our pet?”

“I do,” Kylo’s voice wavers, his eyes shifting to Armitage’s, and they blaze with fury. The king knows how upset his knave is. You were stolen from both of them. By the other kingdom, no less.

“What will you do when we get them back?” Armitage asks, eyes half-lidded. A small, sly smile spreads across his face as Kylo squirms with anticipation. All the dirty thoughts are rushing to the forefront of the knave’s mind.

Kylo’s lips part, words sitting on his tongue. There are so many things that man wants to do to you, Armitage can feel it.

“Show me,” Hux whispers, and Kylo’s throat bobs once more. A cute gesture, the subtle displays of his knave’s hesitation never cease to appeal him.

Kylo reaches up to Hux’s waistband, hooking his fingers under the clothing, trailing to meet at the center. Slipping out to unbutton Hux’s pants. Kylo pushes down his pants, revealing dark red skin-tight trousers, and a prominent bulge pushes upward from within.

Kylo shudders at the sight, pulling down Hux’s garments to free his king’s cock. It stands up, proud, pulsating for Kylo’s attention. The tip is swollen red, but not a single leaky drop of precum. Hux is more controlled than that.

Kylo wraps a hand around Hux’s length, giving the king slow, languid strokes. He’s restraining himself, holding back from the concept of smothering you. Knowing that if you were here in this very room, he’d spare no strength to bring you to your knees and fuck you senseless.

Hux inhales sharply, his proud lips part, not taking his half-lidded eyes off Kylo. His hands card through the knave’s long black hair, urging his subordinate to keep going. Knowing that if he pushes Kylo just enough, his precious knave would snap.

Kylo takes Hux’s length in his mouth, looking at his king through his lashes, fluttering as he drags his tongue across Hux’s tip.

Up, down, Hux’s face turns red, too proud to cum so quickly, but starting to cave under Kylo’s affection.. and his knave just started.

“You’d be sweet?” Hux teases, tugging at Kylo’s hair, “After spending so much time apart from them?” Kylo pauses in his pursuit to bring his king pleasure.

“All the hours you could’ve had been spent playing with them. Making a mess of them,” Hux leans in, a breath away from Kylo’s lips, “Wasted? Unable to get back?” 

Kylo’s hand on Hux’s cock tightens. His tongue wraps around more of Hux’s length, tracing over veins as he sucks. His free hand slips under Hux, gripping the king’s ass.

That caught his king off guard, but only for a moment. A slight gasp escapes Hux’s lips, a jump, sure, but other than that, Hux remains indifferent to the attention he is providing.

It enraged Kylo.

Normally, Hux is difficult to please, and he had the patience to please his King. Spending precious time, leading up to his king’s release.

However, today, he’s been tampered with too much. The lack of attention he’s received, and he has to give it to his king? 

His brows press together, fury burning brightly in his eyes.

And he bites down.

Hux’s eyes pop open, and a yelp escapes him, throwing his head, only to find his airways restricted. Kylo’s hand that had previously been squeezing his ass is now firmly wrapped around his throat.

“Is this what you wanted, your majesty?” He hisses, rising to his feet. He lets go of Hux’s length, and his patience runs out completely.

Hux’s eyes are wide, his lips part as he gazes at Kylo in shock. Little wheezes of air go in and out of him, his cheeks flushing more at the sight of the furious knave.

“To see me snap?” Kylo growls, “To see me lose control?” He throws Hux’s legs over his broad shoulders. Hux yelps, losing all composure that Kylo knows he has.

Hux grabs onto the back of the throne, keeping himself upright as Kylo lets go of his neck. Kylo pulls at Hux’s pants and undergaments, leaving his king’s freckled ass bare, just for him, and him alone.

He grips Hux’s cheeks, kneading them, his thumbs pressing deeply on Hux’s ass. 

“You like it, don’t you?” Kylo whispers, leaning in. Giving Hux’s ass a smack.

“Say it.” Kylo grunts, “Say that you like it.” Hux bites his lip, not wanting to give his knave the satisfaction of having the upper hand. He’s too proud to give it to Kylo despite the knave’s grip on his cheeks. 

“Say. It.” Kylo squeezes harder.

“I-“ Hux gasps out, “I like it- ah!”

Kylo flips Hux, parting his cheeks with his thumbs before jamming one in him. He pushes deep, feeling his king clench onto his glove for dear life.

Hux wails, losing every ounce of dingity to Kylo’s finger ramming in and out of him. He throws his head back, gripping the armrests for any way to ground himself. To get him to hold out longer, to delay him coming undone.

But he can’t. 

Kylo smirks, catching sight of the trail of cum leaking out of Hux, oozing out and dragging down like a trail of spit. Collecting and pooling on the throne cushion. 

“It’s time.” Kylo growls, “I’m getting our pet.”

…

You didn’t sleep that night.

Your eyes were wide open, and yet your body yearned for sleep.

You ran from both kingdoms in one day! You’re emotionally exhausted, and you feel like you’re going to die, but your body is preventing you from doing the one thing that could’ve helped you feel remotely better.

You know things could be worse; hell, you experienced the worst before.

You had lost track of time when you lay out on the comforter, spread out like a starfish, eyes trained on the ceiling. All you could think about was one thing. The one thing asked of you, to fulfill the prophecy, to free this kingdom from the grasp of another by killing a beast with an ancient sword.

It took many forms, playing the what-if game seems to never tire the mind when under stress.

You only realized you didn’t get sleep when you saw the morning sun peek into the room.
“Shit.”

The door opens, the hinges creak, and you sit up. Tarrant, steps in. 

“I heard that you may have been rumbling and mubling all night, I thought I might check up on you.” He says, peeping in. Smiling a bit, showing off the gap in his teeth.

“Of course,” You smile, “Come in.” Despite not seeing much of him, you find him comforting. He was one of the few people not to chase you when you… crashed out.

He sits at the foot of the bed. “You caused quite the party yesterday.” He lets out a half laugh, but his nerves —oh, his nerves—are apparent. 

“I know.” You feel guilt pool in your gut, “I was afraid— I still am.” You look down at your hands, and they quake despite resting on your thighs.

“I know.” Tarrant whispers, “She was, too.”

“Alice?” He never had to say the name of the previous visitor to this strange place. A girl you’ve heard echoes of has so much impact on everyone else.

“Yes,” His cat-like eyes look out the windows, misty, “She was so confused about how things go here. Calling it nonsense.” You can’t help but agree with Alice. You’d be frustrated with this place too, had you fallen down here years ago.

“She tried to show us what her logic was, where she came from.” His smile is small as he recalls simpler times in this strange world.

“Her logic, it got her a lot of trouble,” His smile fades, “We all sought to put her on trial with the red queen.”

“There’s a red queen?”

“Was.” His expression lost all its happiness. “She went missing after Hux took reign over her land.”

You press your brows together. You knew Hux is evil, but you didn’t know the extent of his damage done to others… he’s starting to appear like a bunch of jackass rich people back home..

“We lost a lot of people,” Tarrant admits, the shadows of his past showing on his face, “But it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. All good, nothing like I’ve seen. itsfinefineiwillbe-“

You cut him off, “Hatter.” 

“I’m fine,” He peeps out, “Thank you.”

“Alice escaped Wonderland by a means I’m not so sure even today.” He admits, going off into a ramble, and you lose track of his words. Only watching him passively, reliving his earlier years here.

It sounded like a peaceful place, a weird, happy place. 

Only for it to be taken away by a man only desiring absolute control. 

Only by you, can you provide the place that Tarrant once spoke of. That happy place, that sense of wonder and exploration that you had days ago.

Something has to be done.

Chapter Text

Tarrant stayed after you spoke with him.

The conversation he had with you earlier was disengaged; he noticed a sense of resolve on your face, but didn’t say anything. It was a heavy yet required conversation. He knows you were thinking about it all night; the signs of a five o’clock shadow are showing on your face.

Now he’s having morning tea with you outside. You’re still not sure how he pulled a full tea set out of nowhere, chairs and table included. You suppose it’s just another Wonderland thing you should get used to.

The conversation you share with him now is comfortable. Tarrant isn’t quite as cheery as he was when you first met, but enough to put you at ease. He speaks between sips with extreme poise; you half expected him to cross his legs and pull out a fan, but he didn’t.

The topics morph naturally, quicker than what you’re used to, never dull. Going from species of rocking horse flies, then two identical twin boys who went missing. His knowledge about anything that doesn’t make sense to you is irking.

Your cup never seems to empty, and the type of tea always seems to change. It’s like the liquid fills back up after you finish drinking it, changing color and smell. Chalk it up to more mysteries, you suppose.

Although one that you’ve been dealing with since you arrived remains unanswered.

“What’s the point of the Pishalver and Upelkuchen?” You ask, unprompted, “I’ve never seen anyone else use it but me.”

“An excellent question,” Tarrant whispered, leaning forward, “Everyone here likes to be at their own size. So, it’s rare that those substances are intended for that purpose. Though, in a pinch, both foods have their uses.”

Ah, a non-answer. Well, not entirely, just not the one you wanted, having assumed that there was something specific for the size-altering foods rather than just to freely adjust your height.

You hate the concept of freely changing something without a served benefit is foreign to you.

“That is true.” You muse, your mind wandering back to when you threw the guards briefly while running from Kylo. Had you been more sure of yourself, there would’ve been a chance that you would’ve gotten away from the knave of hearts. Maybe then Hux couldn’t-

You sigh, pressing your brows together, and your mouth twists into a scowl. It’ll be no good dwelling on the past..
You can only work now to better the future.

“Are you alright?” Tarrant asks, his face full of nothing but concern.

“Yeah,” You turn your head to look over the vast, seemingly infinite garden, “I will be.”

You get lost in the sight of it all, outside of Wonderland, you’ve never been in a place to see such a view like this. They exist, but it’s so rare that you’ll be able to see it later in life, when you make more money with your career. After all of the soulless corporate grinding and climbing the ladder.

You sigh, haven’t thought about going back home since Kylo Ren kidnapped you. It’s not even days ago, but it feels like an eternity. So much has happened to you since falling down here than in your entire lifetime.

You wouldn’t be able to go home after this; you still have an internship to go through. Granted, it’s in a far prettier country than your own, despite the countless historical scars. However, you won’t be as important. (Ignoring the fact that you actively ran from fate yesterday)

Back to the bottom of the barrel. With no friends..

Setting down the teacup, you fold your arms, wondering if you should stay here. You can’t imagine being allowed to leave if you don’t slay this Jabberwocky for the future prosperity of this place.

You’re important here, then again, anyone who would’ve fallen down here instead of you would be dealing with the same prophecy. Albeit, better than you.

“Was Alice frightened of this place?” You finally ask.

“Frightened,” Tarrant smiles, somber from the memories of Alice, “but then she got to know of this place, she gained her muchness.”

“Muchness?” You take your gaze off the garden to look at the hatter. 

Tarrant points to his heart, “Muchess, your courage. What makes you… You”

You hum, picking up the tea again, bringing the cup to your lips. You stopped paying attention to the color in the cup and just experienced the flavors. There were so many, hard to pick a favorite.

This one was sweet, tangy, warm, and not what you were expecting. Mainly because the drink you finished before was bitter and cold, with a taste that barely lingered for mere moments.

You look back at the garden once more. You narrow your eyes at the horizon line, spotting smoke. That wasn’t there before. There wasn’t a single fire in this kingdom, save for a few hearths and the kitchen. None outside, this place is grandiose, elegant, calm, not brash and outspoken. like this.

You lower your cup, standing up. You speed over to the rails, leaning over to get a better look. It wafts beyond the edge of the final topiary before a forest.

You catch sight of a small spec of crimson red armor.

“Shit.” You charge out of the room.

Tarrant springs to his feet, “What is it?” He catches up to you, running at your side. 

“Red knights.” You hiss, “They’re going for the sword.” You speed up, and the hatter matches your pace without too much issue.

You both get to the garden, the smell of smoke burning your nose as you both split to run through the maze. You don’t remember running to the castle, more so hyper aware of the panic rising in your chest.

You hear the warning bells from the palace, relieved a bit that everyone is now alert to this sudden attack, though it quickly changes to worry again when you wonder if it’s too late for them.

You ran through the maze blindly, remembering that you had only found the sword’s resting place by chance… Or perhaps faith? Though you hope that you will be able to find it like before.

You hear the clanking of armor as the card soldiers enter the maze. Your stomach drops, knowing that this close-quarter chase between you and Hux has begun.

Your side step, pivoting into the next sharp turn, keeping watch of your footing as you continue this blind chase. Making those sharp turns can certainly save you when outrunning the sentient playing cards.

You run past some statues you’ve seen before, recalling the vaugeu flashes in your memory from yesterday. Your chest blooms with hope.

You continue to follow this path of deja vu, knowing it can lead you to where you desire to be. Rather, your fate that you’ve decided to embrace. To help Mamoreal move onwards to a brighter future.

Though this feeling of hope did not last. You spot specs of red as you speed by, praying that they don’t spot you. They’re closing in, very subtly, yet frightening all the same.

Just like yesterday, you hear the marching of the armored footsteps navigate through this maze of a garden. However, this time, the soldiers are dead silent, making you feel like you’re the star of a horror movie.

Then you see it.

The burning of the garden.

Two card soldiers carried torches, tossing them on the hedge walls in hops of shortening this chase. The quicker you’re captured adn brough tbefore Hux, the better his mood will be. His “pet” —as he liked to call you in your brief time under his captivity— has been gone from him far too long.

Dire measures will be taken, and arson is one of them.

You feel the heat of the nearby flames bloom through the bushes, reaching your body. You are already covered in sweat, but now it glitters with the approaching heat.

A few turns later, you find the hidden grotto of this kingdom.

Just like before, the sword’s resting place drew out all the chaos like before. But the silence made you think for a moment, considering that this place is tranquil.. for now.

The sword can only be pulled out by you, that’s what you’re certain of. The pedestal that the sword rests on appears to be a part of the very foundation of the garden. Removing the sword and the pedestal would do more harm than good.

“They’re not after the sword.” You mutter, “They’re after me!”

You sprint toward the pedestal, latching onto the grip of the sword, and you bend your knees slightly. Pushing up with your legs, you start to pull the sword out.

Each passing second feels like an eternity. The sword is giving, but slowly, and requires more effort than you anticipate. Your arms and legs burn from strain, but you keep going. This sword has to get out, no matter what.

With one last pull, the sword comes out, gleaming in your grasp. You catch sight of wild, curly orange hair, and you know what you need to do.

“Tarrant!” You yell, and the man trots over to you. His eyes wide and orange. “It’s me they’re after.” You hold out the sword to him. “Keep this safe for me. I still need to slay that thing soon.”

Any fear any doubt that was in his eyes is replaced with a determined look. A knowing look, firm. You’ve made a decision, and that action alone restores his faith in you.

“We’ll meet again, knight.” He places a bottle in your hands, “Now get out of here.” 

You both split, sprinting in opposite directions. You look in your hand to see a small vial full of clear liquid, on the side was a note.

“Pishalver,” It read, and you smile, running through the castle.

Servants and court members run through the place, frenzied. Even the guards were escorting the people out. For the sheer numbers of Hux’s army could outpower the smaller, better-trained militia belonging to Mirana.

The fire starts to reach into the palace itself, and small embers float through the air as you get to the front gates.

The closer you get to the grass, the more effort you put into opening the vial.

Once your foot hit the grass, you downed the liquid. You continue to charge forward despite the irritation in your throat. Your steps become smaller, and your surroundings grow around you.

You sprint, knowing that you’re better off lost than found by either party. The grass looms over you, casting shadows that come and go as Mamoreal blazes from attack.

You can see the obelisk, mountain-like soldiers charge for the grotesque beauty as the kingdom that once brought you comfort burns from the inside out.

Your chest burns, begging for fresh air. Ash falls like snow all around you, and the smell of smoke wafts through the air; even parts of the grass are singed grey or black from small sparks of heat.

Sweat runs down every crevice of your body, dampening your clothes and sticking your hair to your head. None of that matters, only that you make it out of here and away from Hux’s reach.

Your legs tighten as you push yourself to your limits, your body aches at the thought of falling back into his clutches.

You may be running in a far separate direction to divert attention, but if you could get away unscathed, that would greatly benefit you.

A big, black boot slams in front of you. Your stomach lurches at the sight, and you dive into a thicker part of the grass. Eyes trailing up the trunk-like leg, once you’re confident in your safety.

The pitch-black armor is new, hearts donning at every opportunity on the breastplate and shoulder guards. A diamond, black, ruthless, and imposing. Hux’s diamond, precious, pet.

“The Otherlandian is nearby.” His voice shakes the ground. “Find them!”

You dive into another patch of grass nearby, sprinting because your life depends on it. Your sides throb in pain, increasing with each moment, yet you keep running. Knowing if you don’t stop now, you will never be safe again.

Luke calls for you, eyebrows raised, “Why, you’re smaller than before.” He says, folding his arms. He sounds almost impressed by it.

“Luke-?” You skid your running to a stop, the fatigue hitting you at once.

“Whoa!” He reaches for you, and you slump forward. Your vision is going black.

You were only able to utter, “Get out of here,” before losing consciousness.

Chapter Text

“Wa—“

The familiar voice fades in and out, as does your vision. The statement is over before you can even make sense of it.

“……P!” You hear it again, though the haze allowed you to hear different syllables this time.

“WAKE UP!” 

You jolt upwards with a yelp and a gasp, nearly crashing into Luke. His eyes are wide, and he steps back. His hands are in front of him, palms open.

Your eyes are wide, breathing fast and erratic. Though you slow at the sight of Luke. It’s certainly been a while since you’ve seen him last. Honestly,
If he’s here, then that means…

You look up, seeing the blades of grass tower over you both.

You got out.

“I wasn’t expecting you to faint.” He states with raised brows, “Are you alright?”

You open your mouth to answer, but then the memories come back. Hux’s soldiers are attacking the castle, and Kylo unknowingly almost crushed you. Marmoreal was set on fire, with Tarrant and Mirana’s subjects escaping. Though you hadn’t seen anyone else in a while.

“No,” you answer, “I fainted from stress after running into you.”

You have a look in your eyes that changed Luke’s demeanor about this entire situation, “What happened?”

“The White Queen’s palace became the subject of arson by red knights. The Hatter escaped with the vorpal sword.” You explain, and he nods slowly, not even hiding the fact that he was the person who placed that sword on the pedestal years ago.

“You pulled it out and parted ways?” He arches a brow, his tone threatening that you gave an ancient weapon meant to bring this land peace to someone not worthy of wielding it.

“The red knights were after me!” You explain, “We parted ways so I can divert their attention!”

“And what if they found the hatter instead? You were running away, the size of a pill bug!” His anger rises. What did he do to Kylo to abandon his position as a knight? He seems too dedicated to the sword, hanging onto his past like the sword he once held.

You don’t answer, you don’t want to either. Keeping your mouth shut, you look away, not wanting to deal ire of someone who was the starting domino to fall for this whole mess. With what Leia had told you, albeit clouded with her grief over her son, Luke is one of the foundation blocks for this prophecy to begin with.

“An unforeseen circumstance,” Absolem’s voice comes from the blades of grass, “Though one necessary to survive.” The blades clear shortly after, revealing the sassy caterpillar. He quickly finds perchance on a nearby toadstool.

“It is nice to see you.” You breathe out, shoulders dropping.

“You have seen Underland for what it truly is.” Absolem points to you, “You were curious and lost. But now you’re burdened with the knowledge of this place.”

“Grim, but I know it hasn’t always been that way. But I thought you called this place Wonderland?”

“This is a fight you have run from long enough.” The caterpillar draws, side-eyeing Luke, ignoring your question. You would normally be annoyed when a thing like that happens, but you’re still on an adrenaline high.

“I can’t go back,” he replies, “I’ll hurt everyone more. There has to be another way.”

“Not as much when you left.” Absolem pulls out a hookah, taking a long drag of opium, “You left them to learn wisdom from me, but you’ve only made yourself more stupid.” The caterpillar blows smoke at the former knight.

Luke coughs, face scrunching up as he pulls away from the smoke, waving his hand to dissipate the fumes, “Will you stop that?!”

Absolem only laughs, smoke swirling around him in a spiral. There’s so much that you can’t see him anymore.

And when it clears, the caterpillar is gone.

“I hate it when he does that.” Luke seethes, stepping away from the smoke. Knowing it’s a lesson to be learned, and it’s one he’s been avoiding.

“But he makes a good point?” You say, trusting the caterpillar more than anyone else.

“He always does.” He sighs, repeating, “He always does.” He just stands there, his eyes staring off into space.

“We should get going.” You say, twisting your body to a random direction to walk. You pause, not only waiting for him but also realizing that you have no idea where to go.

“We should,” He sighs, “If anyone from mamoreal survived, Tarrant would have them take refuge at the Hightopp estate.”

“How far is that from here?”

“At this height…” He hums in thought, A week’s worth of traveling.” He speaks about it like it’s not a big deal. However, you know that it’s probably for the best; you wouldn’t get captured by Kylo or Hux.

He pushes past a few blades of grass, parting them for you. He tilts his head at the foliage, and you walk over to him, starting your long journey.

You were both silent for a while, but there are so many questions that remain unanswered. Something needed to be said so that you can make sense of something in a world built on nonsense.

“Leia tells me you were the bearer of the Vorpal Sword.” You say, and Luke sighs. 

“I was.” He answers, quick and blunt. It’s an old wound, but you’re not the person who opened it. That you know for sure.

“What really happened?”

“A sparring match that went wrong,” he said, similar to what Leia had told you. Once again, quick and blunt. Nothing that you don’t already know, despite it being brief.

He’s not going to give up answers, that you know for sure. He’s willing to talk about it, but only a part of the picture. Never the whole thing. It makes you upset because you are going to defend this place, but it would be nice to know about it.

It’s a selfless act, but it’s one that potentially leaves your life in the fine print if shit hits the fan. Judging that you’re the size of a pill bug, as Luke puts it, it already has. 

You have to be really careful if you desire to have your life back.

Though you’ve already lamented on the fact that the world you’re going back to, despite being out of America, isn’t as well as you thought it would be. Though that’s only because you’ve never held responsibility before. (and you ran away from it when you found out you were bound to it by fate)

Truly, you’re starting to want to just consume a bunch of Upelkuchen and tear apart Hux’s castle. Considering both of Tarrant’s and Mirana’s explanations of the size-altering foods, nobody has really used them to the extent of harm. This option is starting to become more and more appealing to you.

“I never wanted to do it.” Luke says, snapping you out of your thoughts, “Ben was such a good kid, he-“ Luke stops speaking, a long sigh escaping him.

You watch him, waiting patiently as he tries to form the words. You know that feeling. A memory far too difficult to retell, not because it’s complex; no, it’s almost like you filter yourself without knowing it. That you internally fear judgment despite the person you’re telling it to is an honest, good person.

“He never yields,” He eventually says, “He never wanted to lose to me when it came time for an exhibition.”

“Well, training and experiencing are two separate things.” You say, knowing the difference like it was night and day. Hell, it’s what you’ve been dealing with for a long time. You have the work, you don’t have the experience, and therefore, you have no way to vouch for yourself.

It doesn’t help with the reality of finding a job, too. Having spent way too much time on professional social media boards meant to help you in finding a job, only to see that the job you applied for is fake. Or that you got filtered out by a robot.

It. Fucking. Sucks. 

“Exactly,” He says, smiling a little, though sad and somber.

“Ben kept getting up during our match,” he explains, “Which I admired his resilience at first…” He trails off; the pride he once felt for Ben was that familial type. Something you’re used to recognizing, but hard to find yourself in.

“But then he kept swinging,” He adds, pressing his brows together, “He was less controlled, more violent with trying to achieve his goal. Essentially contradicting the oaths he just pledged.”

“He was so obsessed with winning, having bested all the other knights in Mirana’s possession.” That makes sense to you. The more he speaks about this, the more you notice the transformation of Ben: the devoted knight, to Kylo Ren: the obsessive knave.

“I had to stop it right then and there.” His voice turns grim, “I made the warning that should he keep at this destructive behavior, I would give him something to remember his heinous actions by.”

He turns to you, “I gave him that scar, removing his eye.”

He stops walking, and you’re out in the open, the sun beams exposing you slightly.

You turn back for Luke only to find him staring at you wide-eyed under a mushroom, “Kid, get back here!”

“What?” You take a step toward him only to find that….

You can’t.

You’re being pulled backwards.

Not just that either, but up.

Up,

up,

up.

Higher.

And higher so.

“We never seem to meet at the proper size, do we?” Hux pinches the back of your clothing, dangling you in front of his face. His crimson eyes and freckled cheeks obstruct your view. Heart-shaped pupils expanding at the sight of your flailing form.

Shit.

You’re done in, and yet, you reach for nothing, swinging your arms, kicking your legs. It won’t work, it never will, and Hux laughs, amused at your feeble, tiny attempts to free yourself once more.

“You are formally under arrest,” His eyes gleaming from the blaze of what was once a lovely kingdom, “For theft.” You hear the clapping of a closed locket, vaguely seeing him putting something in his pants pocket.

“I shall deal with you accordingly.”

Fuck.

Chapter Text

You dangle helplessly, the world around you blurring out into nothing. 

All you see is Hux’s smarmy smile as he holds you in front of his face. That smug look, your shock, he basks in it. You’re shocked that he’s even found you. Especially at your current size. You were certain that the grass towered over you enough to shield you from any passerby.

“Theft?” You dumbly rasp, cringing at your poor reading of the situation due to gut-wrenching fear.

He chuckles, but doesn’t open his mouth. His smile is unchanged, unnerving, and those eyes of his are watching every single one of your movements, subconscious or not.

You feel sick, your stomach churning as the reality of this situation has come crashing down. Your vision spins, Hux’s eager smile falling in and out of focus. Those pearly white teeth remain the same, shining, threatening to devour you… At least, that’s what your gut is telling you.

“You’re better like this,” he muses, ignoring your confusion. He thumbs your clothes, and you sway left and right from the pressure. Arms dangling like the metal bells on a windchime. His personal flesh instrument. You got away once, and he won’t allow such a thing a second time.

You go slack, dangling helplessly, your eyes cast on the ground. You feel like you’re looking over the railings of a skyscraper. Hux’s legs seem to stretch on forever; a fall would certainly kill you if you can manage to escape his grasp.

Your heart beats heavily, pushing against the forced tightness of your clothes. You wish that the seams of your clothes gave.

You hear the clinking of armor, heavy footsteps clapping along the fields. You can’t turn your head and look. Hux doesn’t even look in the general direction of where the noise is coming from, even as it grows louder. That alone is frightening.

A red knight nears Hx’s side. You can only spot the crimson armor when you sway at a specific angle. Your neck starts to throb in pain as you try harder and harder to look at this unexpected guest. Rather than the one that looks like he’s about to devour you, but restraining himself because that means he wouldn’t be able to look at you anymore.

The red knight moves to speak, but stops as Hux raises his free hand. 

“Pull back,” Hux’s face lost any cocky smile as he instructs this knight, “I have what I need.”

“Yes, your majesty.” And the knight trots off, disappearing out of sight. So quickly that it made you wonder if they were ever here in the first place.
You sigh, your eyes remaining downcast as you try to focus on something, anything that can make you feel so numb to this mess.

“As long as you walk this earth, I will always find you.” Hux says, twisting you to look at him, and only him as he says, “I will set the sky ablaze if it holds you back from me.”

You know he can, and you don’t doubt that he orchestrated you to be hunted down when you fell here in the first place. You regret ever following the rabbit down here in the first place.

“Is that clear?” 

The question appeared rhetorical, but you know the saying is to ask for forgiveness rather than permission, though, in this case, you wouldn’t like either outcome.

“Yes,” You whisper, “Your majesty.”

He doesn’t say anything; rather, he tilts his hand to the side. You slam into his palm, scrambling to push your upper body above his index finger as his hands encase the lower half of your body.

Hux starts to walk, but you can’t tell where, only able to look at him and him alone. He’s poised, calculated with each long stride, covering a lot of ground with each step. At least, that’s what you assume, considering you’re parallel with his chest height.

You can hear the congregating of other soldiers; their clanking armor is unmistakable. They’re surrounding something. A stalion by the clopping of hooves and the snort you hear occasionally. 

However, the low voice comes seemingly out of nowhere.

“The servants and militia have been taken prisoner,” Kylo reports, and you hear the thud of his knee hitting the ground.

“Stand,” Hux whispers, and Kylo does, stepping aside. You hear the creak of a door opening. Hux’s foot steps on wood, and he’s ducking his head under a doorway, sitting down in.. A carriage.

The small chamber leans to the side, and Kylo slides in, sitting across from Hux.
“You found them,” Kylo says, his voice reaching to the core of your being. Frightening, sure, but Hux’s sultry voice is the thing from nightmares.

Hux pulls back his other fingers, leaving you to dangle between the two gigantic monsters of men. 

Kylo lets out a breath, perking up for a moment before focusing on Hux once more, that half-lidded, worshipping gaze he bears, as if it’s taking all of him not to knock over Hux and have him in on the carriage seats.

The knave leans forward, entrapping his king’s lips in his own. Hux makes no noises, just focusing on the kiss itself while Kylo writhes and whimpers under the attention. You can’t see much, only the vague jaw movements through slivers of Kylo’s sweat-stuck mop.

Hux is a stark contrast to Kylo, as expected. He’s patient, but pleases Kylo in such a way that he might as well be the taller one. All while completely composed.

The carriage takes off, and Kylo jerks forward, thrusting his hands out on either side of Hux. His head hangs low, spindles of his hair forming a dark halo around Hux. His chest is heaving, rising and falling despite the large breast plate he’s equipped with.

Kylo wedges a knee between Hux’s legs, lowering himself down below his king’s gaze, “My majesty.”

“My Knave,” Hux says, parroting back at Kylo, his voice soft.

Kylo shudders, retracting his hands, shakily resting on Hux’s crimson top, thumbs slipping under the lapels.

You find yourself wedged between wanting to gag at this almost porno and wanting to join in yourself. However, you’re not thinking straight anymore. Considering that your legs throb at the sight of these mountains of men barely holding it together. You’re certain that the carriage driver is familiar with this exchange between the two most powerful people in the lands.

Their lips meet once more, jaws going slack; opening for their tongues no doubt. You look away, trying to keep your composure and sense of self as Kylo huffs, grunting, sucking in air through his nose.

You have to remember what you were taken from, the fate that these men are trying to prevent you from completely. Whether they’re aware of it or not.

Riipp.

Your eyes widen, and you try to look at the pinched fingers holding you captive.

Riiiipppp!

You feel the pressure chest lift. Here it is, your moment of freedom. Your clothes start to give, having been stretched and strained from holding you up exclusively.

You free-fall, a smile gracing your face as you see this ginormous world envelop you as you free-fall. If this is anything like how you fell into the ocean when first arriving here, even with falling from such a height that water wouldn’t save you.

Spreading your arms and legs out, forming a star shape, you embrace the free-falling feeling once more. At least with the rabbit hole and exiting the room of doors, there is at least one thing that is consistent here in this land of madness.

That is..

Until a white glove juts out below you, growing larger with the rapidly decreasing distance.

Shit.

You face plant into the cushion. Despite Hux being slim, his hands are very soft, and the gloves serve as a pillow casing.

“What a pleasant surprise.” Hux muses. You push yourself up at the base of his thumb, settling down in the center of his hand, feeling the two prominent pads in his hands despite the gloves.

Your lightness plummets; you can feel yourself turning green at the sight of Hux’s dangerous gleam in his eyes as he looks down on you in his palm.

His smile is predatory, and you dare not look behind you at the man sitting across from Hux. The twitching and shifting in the knees you can spot out of the corner of your eye tells you enough that Kylo would want to rip you from the inside out. Then leave a devoted impression on each of your parts. How he got to a sitting position so quickly, you’re not so sure.

Maybe your freedom was never meant to last then.

That your moment of reprieve was spent running from a prophecy you were too afraid to confront. You were afraid of the one thing that could happen against your will, that you’ve forgone the concept of the success of it happening from your actions alone.

Regrets start to appear in the depths of your mind. You wish you had spoken to Rey about your issue with her treatment of you and spent more time with Tarrant. Leia could’ve provided you with wisdom, as could Mirana. You took your brief allies for granted.

The shreds of your clothes are nowhere in sight. All that remains once more is the necklace that the very man holding you had put on you in your sleep. Whether it was done by his hand or not, it was purely intentional.

Hux’s thumb pushes on your back, forcing you to your hands and knees. Your face heats up, knowing what could happen next. You didn’t want it ot happen so soon.

And yet..

Despite it all, you’ve found yourself under his spell again; those eyes, although cold, look at you like you’re the only person in the world. You, despite how your heart beats for him, yearning for attention even though the violence that comes with it.

Hux says nothing, no indicator other than the action itself. Kylo takes the glove off Hux’s free hand, pressing his lips to Hux’s bare knuckles. Worship, even though he’s not going to get any in return at the moment.

Hux pulls away from Kylo’s affection, cupping the knave’s jaw for a fleeting moment before looming over you.

You screw your eyes shut, knowing what happens next, you hate to say how logical it is, despite the absurdity of it all.

His pinky finger jams into your ass, only part of the tip, and yet your body lurches forward. You inhale so much air, choking on it as you are forcibly squeezed from out and under his thumb.

“You’re so tight.” Hux muses, you can feel that curl of his lips, that disgustingly smug smile.

He pushes in deeper, the bump of the top knuckle wedging your cheeks open. You clench, knees turning inward, before you collapse your current pose, stuck between the surfaces of his hand, while his pinky is still inching inside you.

You don’t feel the tears on your face, only the faint extended consciousness when they leave your face, as they pat down on Hux’s hand, seeping into the creases of his soft hands.

Your hands scramble to grab on to something, anything, but there just isn’t enough flesh to grab; you had tried to find purchase in the webbed skin between his ring and middle finger.

“So different from before,” he sighs, adding more pressure, but there isn’t much progress to be made. That’s all you could take, and so early as well. It hurts, singing so much, but the feeling of disappointing his majesty frightens you more; it makes you sick.

You take in deep, shaking breaths, lips quivering as you relax your lower body as he pushes his finger in deeper, reaching halfway to the second knuckle.

You shudder, opening your eyes for the first time in a short while. Only to be met with blurry vision, a pale cliffside, while your body surges forward from Hux’s hold.

“What do you think?” His eyes flick up to Kylo, who’s been watching you come undone, hypnotized. At least. You thought he was. He snaps to complete attention at the moment Hux addresses him.

“Delectable,” Kylo whispers, the instability in his voice makes you hot, taking in more of Hux’s finger. Your body forms a faint indication of how deep he is.

“Mmh. You’ll get your fill soon enough.” Hux gazes at Kylo for a moment before focusing his attention back on you again. You start to sweat, Hux’s hold on you slipping.

“However, a lesson must be learned.”

You push your palms out in front of you, making sure you take as much as you can. Holding yourself still out of fear of the consequences if you didn’t. However, something deep inside you was curious about what he could do to you while you’re impaled on his finger.

“Majesty!” You gasp out, pleading, “Please!”

“Please.. What? Pet.” Hux muses, enjoying you unraveling under his thumb, the thought of you under his boot comes to mind. However, maybe for another time.

“I ca-“ You grunt, garbled words choking out of you as he pushes deeper once more, another knuckle inside you now. Hux lets out a closed-mouth chuckle. Arrogant. He’s enjoying every single moment of this. Your pleasure, your dismay. It made you sick.

And yet.. once more.

To have his attention again.

“It hurts!” You wail, and his pushing stops. He’s waiting for you to go on; he’s humoring you.

“I’m sorry!” You cry out, the searing pain causing your release and strain. You can feel the muscles in your body straining from him; he’s taking up too much room that which secondary effects may render your legs useless in the future.

“For what?” He leans in, feigning innocence, “Pet?” 

“F-“ You couldn’t form the word, only able to slur onto the syllable,

“Use your words,” he urges you, pushing deeper.

“For running from you!” You gasp deeply, voice drooping from your squeezed diaphragm, “I-“

“You’ll what?” He beckons you once more, easing the pain from you. Just enough for you to finish.

“I’ll never run again!” You wheeze, heaving. Your body is going slack, a sudden numbness taking over you. Only providing you with a failing eyesight and a slack jaw.

“Good pet.” He cooes, removing his finger and lifting his thumb off you, “Good, good pet.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss along your sweat-covered back, then licking a long stripe starting from between your legs to the base of your neck.

“Let that serve as a lesson for you.” Hux chides, as your vision fades out, “That I alone can bring you pleasure.” 

The last thing you heard was, “Don’t disappoint me.”

Chapter Text

You don’t know how you got here..

But that overwhelming sense of dread you feel at the pit of your stomach, no, the core of your very being, gives you a clue about the circumstances that could have led you here.
You know for a fact you’re back in Salzen Grum; the dark ambiance is a huge indicator of that.

However, the room you’re in is nothing like the one you were trapped in before.

Dark wood, accenting the crimson walls, carved to perfection. There’s a large fireplace on the left; it’s not in use at the moment, but the maw looks big.

Behind you is a bed; even if you were a normal size, you’d still call it gargantuan. An Alaskan king, or potentially larger. Covered in wine-red sheets, with the look of a thread count higher than a yearly paycheck. The bed is tall, with dark wood frames and posts littered with ornate designs. Leading up to a canopy.

The nightstands appear identical, with three drawers, and fit the theme perfectly. Each has a candelabra resting on it. Then there are two doors, one on each of the walls to the left and right of the bed. You can only assume that one is a bathroom while the other is a walk-in closet.

Tall, double doors are on the far wall, with thick black curtains shielding the outdoor light coming from the floor to nearly ceiling-high windows. The natural light peeks in ever so slightly, but it’s barely noticeable.

Speaking of the ceiling, it holds the source of the light currently. A dark crystal chandelier, with gold vines twisting all around, forming leaf patterns on the wall from shadows.

It’s a luxurious sight.

If not for the fact that you’re in a bird cage at the moment.

Similar to the chandelier, golden vines twist around to provide you with a circular room. Judging by the lack of furniture, you’d only be put here as a form of punishment. You suppose this is an additional part of that.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, catching yourself with those thoughts. You did fall back under his spell, having caved at his display of affection. Though, in your defense, you weren’t much of a dater before falling here. Having believed that the reliance on dating apps hindered the natural growth of forming long-lasting relationships.

It’s stingy, yes, but you’ve heard enough horror stories from close associates. Each has at least two stories about how their date managed to show all the red flags in the span of twenty minutes. You would hold in a chortle when they tell you that they ordered their food to go.

So, the concept of meeting someone by chance (until you put two and two together and realize that Hux had planned for you to fall into his hands). More so after learning the truth, you just melted in his hands, having no concept of what a relationship should look like.

So now you’re here again, mind adrift, caught between wanting to run away and wanting to stay—enough of a pull between the concepts to keep you mulling over it all.

Though something deep inside you, a muffled scream cries, you should’ve never followed that rabbit to begin with.

The door opens, and in comes a familiar face, your name leaving his lips in a saddened breath.

“You’re here again.” He steps closer, a heartbroken look across his face. The mere sight of your ally makes you crumble. Out of everyone here, you feel more hurt from your actions than anything. That he was the one person you couldn’t keep a promise to.

“I’m sorry, Mitaka.” You lean on the bars, looking at him, ashamed.

“It can’t be helped,” he admits, “I would’ve hoped our next meeting would’ve been after you slayed the Jabberwocky.”

Your eyes widen, and you freeze completely, looking at him, gaping, “You knew?”

“Everyone in Underland here knows.” He says, his expression somewhat somber than it already is, ”I suppose his majesty had an inkling that it may be you, even before Rey stole the Oraculum.” You knew that the prophecy referred to anyone falling here by fate, but when he says it like that… it feels so personal.

“She what?” You gape.

Mitaka smiles, sadly, but still speaks fondly of what he just revealed to you, “Rey has been aiding the white queen’s cause since—“ he trails off, his expression going somber. There’s something. Someone.

“Regardless, she has been the main driving force against Hux and Kylo. Providing hope and expecting nothing in return.”

Except the vorpal sword.

You nod, changing gears, “That explains why she was distant with me.” 

“Because of the prophecy.” You both say at the same time, in the same tone.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, “How the hell am I going to get out of here...” It was less a question and more of speaking out your thoughts than anything. Will you slip away? Get rescued like before? Both options seem unlikely, considering Hux doesn’t seem like the person to allow the same thing to fool him twice. (You’re lucky enough that it worked once)

“Whatever circumstance comes to you first.” Mitaka muses, “Keep an eye out, but you know that already, don’t you?”

“I do.” You exhale, suddenly exhausted. Not entirely physical, but the sudden back and forth you’ve been thrown into. You’ve been here for mere days and have undergone so many changes that it has made the chaotic years of your college life appear tame in comparison.

“I do.” You repeat, sitting down, leaning against the metal bars.

“But it’s for the best.” Mitaka murmurs, “Fate’s way of training you to save Wonderland.” You perk up at the name once more.

You change gears again, “I keep hearing this place has two different names.” You murmur, “Wonderland, Underland. Is there any difference?”

He pauses for a moment, blinking. His eyes go down for a moment as he thinks of what to say.

“Have you been told about Alice?” He arches a brow, unsure about this sudden change, but quickly softening his look. He hasn’t been the first person to talk about the weight you are going to have to carry; the constant talk of it isn’t helping you. Especially you, who are right back at the place that he just told you to leave.

“Briefly.” You say, “Only that she relied on logic to the point where she was put on trial for it.”

“When she was here, she named this place Wonderland,” He makes air quotes, “Those who became fond of her took the naming to this place. But at its core, it’s still Underland.”

“However, in recent times. The citizens coined the name Underland for the time of the king of hearts. That wonderland would be the name of peace.” He muses, “It’s poetic, purely political, but I have no right to make such claims, being on the sidelines of it all.”

“It fits the whole picture now,” You conclude, “Thank you for clearing that up for me.” 

“Anytime,” he simply responds.

Mitaka opens his mouth to speak, wanting to say something more, but the door opens once more.

Your stomach drops at the sudden creaking. Knowing that if Mitka is seen here with you, it can be the end of his life, and most likely reward you with another punishment.

Light from the hallway seeps in once more, a sliver that grows as more of the person behind it reveals themselves.

Your head throbs, and you feel a rush of blood in your ears. This can be the end of everything.

Your heart pounds, and you clamber back to the cage, arms and legs so shaky you can barely move properly from fear alone.

“Hide.” You gasp out, face devoid of any color. 

Mitaka doesn’t need to be told twice. Diving for the bed, as rehearsed. You catch sight of his silhouette tucking himself in the shadow of the bed; you couldn’t even tell his figure if you tried.

The door opens fully, Kylo ducking his head under the doorway, pushing it out for Hux to walk in before him.

You get a feeling of deja vu washing over you. That sick feeling returns with a vengeance. You know what’s going to happen next. Your body still hasn’t healed properly from before. Having ignored your dull aches and strains, just being strong enough to speak with your friend, who is once again risking his life to talk to you.

If you could fall through the floor, you would.

The door shuts behind them both, and you see that subtle change. That held in breath, finally coming out, the dropping of shoulders. A long, slow blink. The exhaustion after a long day. It makes them too human. That justification you had for hating them, the foundation for it, cracking at the sight of them.

Though these actions arouse questions in you. How long were you out? Is this like when you were first kidnapped, that you went comatose from the shock and rush, sleeping for nearly a day?

“Pet,” Hux’s voice shakes your entire being, your body quakes with conflict.

“Have you been good?” He nears the cage, those crimson eyes peeping through.
“Yes, majesty.” You reply, gaining the courage to look at him.

He clicks his tongue, pulling a key out of his pocket. Taking his sweet time to unlock the cage. You just watch, the pools of dead swallowing you whole as he twists the key, pulling the door back.

He holds out his gloved hand, waiting for you. He knows you have nowhere else to go, harboring these twisted feelings toward him. That this conflict of yours will always be the cause of your waking up sore.

You grab the bars, pulling yourself to your feet and then onto Hux’s hand. His fingers curl slightly from the weight of you.

Hux takes slow, calculated steps, sitting on a dark leather chair near the fire. Rather than crossing a leg like normal, he just sits comfortably.

“My knave,” Kylo appears between Hux’s knees, head pressed up against his thigh.

“Majesy,” Kylo whispers, swallowing, eyes aflame.

“A drink?” Hux leans down, his face inches away from Kylo, “For us. Please?” Kylo shudders, quickly pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

Hux pulls back, leaning into the chair’s back support, sighing. Kylo stands up, heading out of the room.

“Did you rest well?” He asks, and you shudder under his gaze.

“I don’t remember anything after the carriage,” You explain, mustering the most even-toned answer you have, “Majesty.”

“Pity,” he sighs, more faux than real, “You’ll adjust to us.” He brings his hand closer to his face, his breath subduing you, “That’s if you behave.”

“I will,” You rasp, “Majesty.”

“I know you will,” he says, fixing his gaze on the fireplace. You let your shoulders go slack, taking a deep breath despite still being in proximity to his face.

“Because if you don’t,” You flinch as his voice takes that rasp again. He looks at you through his paripreals, “I make sure your body will never know the feeling of peace.”

You’re brought closer, as he continues to speak, “Regardless of your size, you will still share your time with us, pet. And I will make sure you will never feel pleasure from it.”

“Yes!” You rasp, looking down, “Your majesty!” 

He lets out a closed lip laugh, tilting your head up with his index finger.

You inhale sharply, looking at his blown-out pupils. You stand up and press yourself against his lips. They cushion your head and torso, and you push down on his bottom lip for a moment, parting his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his teeth.

His breathing faltered, his words got caught in his throat. You pull away, leaning back into his hand, his fingers forming a backrest for you.

He looks like he wants to say something, but the door opens. In comes Kylo with two wine glasses and an unopened bottle of red wine.
Hux straightens up, composing himself, like the last few seconds didn’t happen at all.

“My Knave,” Hux whispers, “No need for a second wine glass.”

Kylo grips the neck of the bottle so tightly that the cork pops off, vapors trailing out of it while the released foam dribbles in front.

Hux smiles encouragingly at Kylo, and he pours the glass halfway, a very generous amount. Then he hands the glass to Hux. 

Hux changes his hold on you, sandwiching two fingers to keep you suspended in the air. You’re dangling above as he holds the glass to his chest.

He’s not going to do that, is he?

The pressure holding you high in the air pulls away, and you plummet rapidly to the ground. Your lips part, sucking in air as your scenery rises from your reach.

Your hair whips around as you spin, taking in the pool of crimson below you. You stretch out your arms and legs, forming a starfish-like posture as you free-fall.

You bob your head down, arms twisting to form a pencil dive formation as the red pool gets larger.

You take in a deep breath, plunging into the wine. The liquid absorbs your fall; however, you still collide with the glass. You seethe, but dare not clutch your shoulders. It’ll most likely bruise.

You push off the bottom, resurfacing to look up at Hux. Your eyes burn from the alcohol, tears threatening to fall down your face. Though it’s hard to see, you’re doused head to toe in wine. Judging by the taste, it’s not cheap either.

All he does is smile, those full lips of his twisted into a smarmy grin you want to smack off his face.

You take deep breaths, eyes to the man taking up so much of your vision that he might as well be your night sky, with Kylo off in the distance as an ever-changing moon.

You don’t reach the bottom, having to swim to stay afloat constantly. You know he’s getting a thrill out of it, knowing that you will always be on edge regardless of how much you behave in his eyes. Even for pleasure, you’re still. fighting for your life. And you’re sick of it.

You feel the wine run down your sides, the alcohol getting in every single one of your crevices. With how pungent it is, you’re not sure a bath would get rid of the smell.

He swirls the glass, a whirlpool forming in the center as you bang against the glass clockwise. You don’t even try to find a purchase on anything; it’s a wine glass, and there’s nothing to grab onto in the first place.

You get submerged by the wine, tumbling under the surface, taking mouthfuls of burning alcohol.

Hux tilts the glass back, getting closer to his mouth. You get kicked up near the rim, landing against his mouth as he drinks the wine.

Before he pulls back, and you slide down into the pool, he gives you a chaste kiss. His lips engulf your entire head and push you back to the bottom.

You sink to the bottom with an anticlimactic splash, you use the bottom to push yourself back to the surface, letting out a gasp.

Hux hums, letting out a long, “Mmm.” his lips form a wide smile, “My knave, you must try this.” Kylo stalks over to Hux, who’s looking at him through hooded eyes. They stare at each other for a moment, breaking the intense gaze when Hux raises the glass toward him. 

You bob a bit as the wine glass is given to Kylo. Rather than holding the bowl of the glass, Kylo grips the stem, the glass looking so much smaller in his hands.

He tilts the glass slightly, allowing you to stop swimming for a moment, to catch your breath. That dark eye of his was staring at you intently. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, pushing yourself as much as you can to the rim of the glass.

He sticks a finger close to you, and you can’t help but latch on. Holding on with your remaining strength. You dangle as he pulls you out, the rest of his hand coming to your aid as soon as there’s enough room for him.

He takes a sip of the wine, his good eye not breaking your gaze. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes in the wine, the levels of the liquid decreasing exponentially. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, pulling the glass away.

“Equisite,” He says, and you can’t remember his voice being so soft like it is now. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but it makes you melt a bit. 

Kylo hands the glass back to Hux, gazing at you in his hands.

“Have you been good to his majesty?” He asks, his face unreadable.
“Yes, Kylo.”

“You will refer to me as master.” He corrects you.

“Yes, master.” You reiterate, “I have been good for his majesty.”

Kylo’s eyes flick beyond you, most likely at Hux. He nods when he gets an answer; you cannot see, only the Master fills your vision.

“You will be rewarded.” He says, “You’ve been behaving well, pet.”

You open your mouth to thank him, but he raises a finger, you falter, sitting back into his gloved fingers.

“When you rest.” He’s back at the cage, setting you in and shutting the door. He doesn’t lock it, and you notice that. In turn, he knows that you are aware of this decision.

“Another test.” He lowers himself to make proper eye contact with you, “You’ll behave, won’t you?”

“Yes, master.” You curtly answer. He inhales sharply, standing up.
“rest.” He says.

You don’t need to be told twice.

…

You wake up in the stillness of the night.

You immediately look at the bed, seeing that both men are there, in an embrace as they rest.

You look below the bed, seeing the fabric shift and bulge. You were about to panic, but quickly calmed down when you saw your ally once more.

Mitaka doesn’t say a word, just like last time. Unphazed, more afraid of being seen rather than what he experienced. He slips out of the bed, completely silent. He tucks his shoes under his arms, not wanting to make any noise when he books it.

He stops running after a few long, hastening strides, sliding along the polished floor, slowing to a stop right in front of the door. He opens it, a small crack, and at such a speed that the hinges wouldn’t protest.

He slips into the hallway, shutting the door at the same speed as before.

The soft click follows the door.

You sigh, relieved, that your only friend here got out of here.

However, that noise wasn’t quiet enough to go unnoticed.

Kylo opened his eyes, raising his head to look at the door. The faint glow coming from the bottom slit of the door has been blocked by the shadows of two feet, quickly trotting from view.

Your reprieve dies, though you should expect it now. That your moment of safety will be quickly murdered in its sleep, and dread will take the forefront once more. Always leaving you alert, always afraid.

It’s making you exhausted.

“Majesty,” Kylo whispers, soft, yet for the first time, he sounds completely composed. It shocked you. He always appears like he’s on the brink of combusting. From going too far, he was intense with his affection.

Hux doesn’t stir.

“Majesty,” Kylo repeats, a louder coo. Sweet, low, soft. If this is how he was before his spar with Luke, then you could say you’re quite partial to it.

Hux moves, subconsciously. An arm or leg, perhaps, you can’t quite see from here.

“Masjesty,” Kylo says once more. And you hear it. The sharp intake of breath. The parting gift from rest.

”Majesty,” Kylo kisses his king’s knuckles, trailing his tongue over each prominent part of the bones, “Someone was in your chambers.” He raises his head slightly, choosing to go in for the exposed parts of Hux’s shoulder blades. Sucking on select spots, kissing larger freckles. 

“Mmmh.” Hux’s head rears back, eyes half-lidded.

Kylo’s attention follows the arc of Hux’s movement, kissing up to his neck. Rising above his king, every so slightly before leaning in. 

“Shall I search for this perpetrator?” Kylo whispers, his tone going sultry. The bloodlust was exciting him, yet somehow the source of ease.

However, Hux was still slack in bed. Barely showing interest, only sighing and giving Kylo small touches in return.

“Schedule for a morning execution.” Hux groans, inhaling deeply through his nose, “The staff have become too complacent.” He moves back to lie down, kissing Kylo briefly before settling down completely.

“As my majesty commands it.” Kylo once again joins him by his side

Leaving you alone in your frightened wake.

Oh shit.