Footsteps rang through the stone halls of the castle as it sat atop its mountain, where it could overlook all the towns and cities residing beneath it in regal silence. They were determined steps belonging to an intruder who would not stop to hide, even when the sounding cries of its oppressors came rushing towards him. The swift steps were overpowered by the herd of pounding feet slapping against the stone floor and the clanking of metal armor as guards careened around the corner.

“Capture the rebel alive!” voices cried as lanterns grasped in clenched fists tossed shadows wildly about the empty halls.

But the intruder’s steps had fallen silent suddenly, and the guards spilled into an empty corridor. Only the once glorious tapestries and works of art that hung from the walls, now torn to the ground and trampled upon, can be seen in the space. The lead guard surveys the corridor before turning towards his men, waving an arm for them to turn back and check another hall.

One by one, a guard is silently snatched from the back of the group with nothing but a surprised gurgle. And one by one, the thudding of feet was reduced until only one pair remained. It was then that the leader stopped, frozen in place as he looked over his shoulder to see not one of his men behind him. Wind from the shattered window beside him blew the long curtain into the hall and light from the moon outside was cast onto the hollow stone walls. As the drapery is sucked back in, a lone figure stands facing the guard.

A sword is drawn, yet before the guard can even take a step forward, the figure is dragging him down into the shadows, his own blade at the soldier’s throat. But he hesitated momentarily, and the pale green eyes of the rebel blink as they look down at their prey. Fear was visible in the eyes of the guard as he stared his own death in the face.

Sitting back, the rebel rips the helmet from the soldier and lifts him by his chest plate before slamming him down, the impact of his head on the ground knocking him unconscious. Dragging the body into a dark corner, the intruder leaves him to return to his original mission.

At the end of the corridor there is a stairwell that takes him to the once grand throne room- in which a much larger gathering of soldiers is located. Only this time, there was a prisoner involved- one who had foolishly allowed himself to be captured, and now had to be rescued- much to the intruder’s vexation.

He watched from the balcony where he had crouched, as a group of guards gather around the prisoner whose arms were bound to a block of wood across his shoulders. Brutal kicks were dealt to his ribs, and the bludgeons whacked against his skull left even the intruder’s head aching. Voices floated up to the balcony; taunting words of the once great Clover general that could now barely lift his head.

There was a savage crack, and a horrendous cry filled the air as the knee and calf bone shattered. The sound finally caused the rebel to snap and his pupils dilated with bloodlust. With cat-like agility, he leapt upon the balcony railing and dove to the ground below him, claws drawn and ready for blood.

Screams filled the castle.

At this same time, in the topmost floor of the castle in a tower overlooking the ravaged garden of the castle of Hearts, a hand hesitantly knocked on a wooden door.

“Your Majesty; there’s been an intrusion.” The voice of the page quavered. But the Red Queen had no interest in the Players causing a ruckus just a few floors below her.

She sat beside the window of her tower, almost bored, with one hand under her chin and the other absent mindedly spinning the hands of an abstract clock.

“I have told you that it is not polite to begin speaking without permission.” She sighed, her long black nails dragging across the wood of the desk she sat at.

The page squeaked and shook in the open doorway. “I am so sorry, Your Majesty. It will never happen again.”

As the Red Queen rose from her seat, the layers of her black skirt cascaded to the floor, and the heels of her shoes clicked as she crossed the black and white tile floor. The page shrunk as she stood before him, nails gripping his chin.

“How are you to learn your lesson without punishment?” She whispered, lowering her hand to drum her nails against his throat. The fear crept into his eyes, and they widened until all that seems to show were the whites.

“Madeleine, that’s enough.” A tired voice called to her. She narrowed her eyes, yet released the page and stepped away.

“Leave.” She growled, and the page obediently scurried away. She turned on the man sitting in the corner of the room with a fury. There, with one wrist chained to a chair, sat Akumu Yume, the Nightmare who had at one point seemed to have Wonderland under his control. But now, he appeared to be broken and small, staring with a blank expression at a photo in his hand.

“You have no right to tell me what is enough. I am the queen, not you.” Madeleine crossed her arms and paced to the window of the tower, looking down into the burnt, moonlit garden below her. She watched as two figures made their way through the shadows- one supporting the other- while the guards straggled hopelessly behind in search of them.

The Red Queen sneered, “The guards of this country are incompetent and pathetic. They can’t even subdue one Player.” She took her seat once more and crossed her legs, delicately stroking the wooden encasement of the device on the table. “But what I find even more pathetic are the Players themselves. I’ve come to expect more, and they’re hardly putting up a decent fight. That Cat and Hare have been nothing but a nuisance to me these past years, yet they’ve not done anything to thwart my power.”

Madeleine suddenly crowed loudly, no longer offended by Akumu’s outburst, “You people have no hope without your precious Outlander here to save you!”

 A sound the Red Queen could not hear echoed across all of Wonderland, a sound similar to that of a high pitched beacon; and it pulsed out like a stone dropped into still water. But the Red Queen could not have known what this meant even if she could hear it.

Akumu stared at the photo, numbly repeating her words, “Without our precious Outlander…” His slender fingers slowly opened and the photo slipped from his hand floor as he raised his head to look to the window.

He wasn’t sure if he felt sadness or joy at this incident, but Akumu’s eyes flickered closed as his lips parted slightly- the ghost of a smile settling on his face.

“Ah… so you’ve fallen again, Alyce.”

“Don’t be afraid to use lipstick, Alyce,” Annabeth says, leaning over the bathroom countertop to look closer at the mirror as she applies a thick layer of mascara. “There’s nothing wrong with drawing a bit of attention to your lips.”

I sigh, looking at the small tube in my hand; a dark shade of lipstick called ‘Brave Red’. But I wasn’t feeling very brave. I wasn’t really feeling much of anything, actually.

“Chin up and don’t slouch- it’s bad posture. You want to make a good impression.” My mother turns and bends over me, grabbing my chin and tilting it up as she takes the tube from my hand and applies it herself. “Come now, Alyce. You said you were going to behave and go along with this.”

I sit straight and close my eyes, answering with the reserved tone I had adopted over the past few months, “Yes mother.”

The tube pulls against my lips and she pulls away as I open my eyes, “There. Much better.” She touches up her hair and I rise from the bathroom stool, looking at my own dull reflection.

My hair was twisted and pulled in a tight up-do my mother thought was highly fashionable, and a smoky red was applied to my eyes with thick mascara. That and the red lipstick didn’t exactly do wonders for my complexion, but my mother thought I looked like what any attractive girl my age should. She had chosen my dress too, and with that and the makeup, we looked so alike it was almost frightening. She brushes past me and I tug the skin tight skirt as I follow behind her, wanting to get away from our reflections.

“Now listen here, Alyce; Tobias and his father Christian are highly respected founders of this city. It’d do you well to understand there’s no better person to be matched with than someone of his stature. Why, I see no reason that you won’t be living as comfortable a life as your sister in a few years time.”

The statement makes my face flush with anger, but I clench my fist and bite my tongue, as I’ve done so often lately, and give a tight nod instead. I’ve barely turned eighteen and she’s jumped at the opportunity of my being matched and sent away. It was her way of telling me she didn’t want to pursue any of the universities I had been accepted to.

I had been reluctant at first to even put in applications; I had thought maybe I'd someday leave this place behind again. But as the days went on, and graduation came nearer and nearer, having absolutely no fallback terrified me. I needed some sort of goal to work towards if I was ever going to move on. But mother didn’t approve of any of the colleges I chose. She still didn’t believe an art degree would get me anywhere in life.

I slide into the seat of the car as she prattles on about good table manners and how to behave around such people as the councilman and his son. I only half pay attention, focusing instead on the blur of trees we pass by. I didn’t want to go on some arranged date with a person I was sure would be awful. I didn’t want to become some well behaved housewife like my sister. I didn’t want three bratty, spoiled children who thought they could do anything because their family has money.

I wanted to go home.

And not to the house I had just left; that place wasn’t home anymore. It was as cold as a stranger and offered no refuge from everyday strife. My parent’s marriage had become strained recently, and I could only make inferences as to which parent was responsible for that strain. But the way my mother was dolled up pretty much gave the answer to that question away. She was much to giddy to join me on a so called date, and it was incredibly suspicious.

“And I don’t want you making me look bad, Alyce. I went through a lot of trouble to arrange this for you.”

Against my best interest, I snort, “I can only imagine the trouble.”

She turns her head from the road to look at me hotly, “I don’t know what you’re implying Alyce but I don’t like that tone. Don’t use it at all tonight, do you understand?”

Once more I answer with a monotone voice, “Yes mother.” Those two words have been imbedded into my mind. For a whole year, be it in a clipped tone or empty voice, 'yes mother' had gotten her off my back more times than I can count. Everything she said and told me to do, 'yes mother' I would reply and she would be content. If I could just reign in my anger and my torment of this dull world and it's boring realities, she'd believe I had gone through some grand transformation in my time away. That I'd miraculously started to become the daughter she'd been trying to mold me to be. 

I had told her and my father Charles that in my year away from this world that I had been visiting my friend in Eastern Europe. I had initially run away in form of rebellion, and she and her parents offered to bring me to their family home in London. Of course my parents were furious at first, but as in their nature, they forgot about it and moved on. Sometimes, I think my mother only remembers when she becomes cross with me and points it out as if to reprimand me.

But I needed her to believe I had set aside the majority of my childish ways. If I could just convince her for long enough, then I could go away to college and funnel all of my anger into something worthwhile. Or at least something that isn't acting like what my mother believes a perfect daughter should be. 

She parks the car and I look up with little interest as to where we had gone. I lean forward in my seat, blinking with disbelief. “An art museum?”

She gives me a cold smile, “I figured that if you were in a place you'd find mildly interesting, you'd be more keen to behaving properly.” 

I knew there would be an angle to having brought me here, but I was still mildly unsettled by her motives for doing so. She's using the things I enjoy as some sort of leverage to behave. It's not like I was going to purposefully sabotage her schemes to marry me off. 

Well, I might have, but that's not the point. 

I'd never before been so unwilling to walk into an art museum, but I followed my mother in while wringing my hands. I was sure this Tobias and his father weren't going to be pleasant people, yet I had a churning feeling in my stomach. I can't explain what it is; maybe nervousness or anger, or maybe I'm just feeling anxiety. Even if I don't particularly want to meet these people, I haven't had much to do at all, and haven't had to meet anyone new in some time. The last time I had to meet someone new was a much different case though.

“Christian!” My mother exclaims, walking with open arms, and a smile much too genuine to be her own, towards a man in a neatly pressed suit. He welcomed her with equal warmth and they embrace. A small flare of anger fills me at the sight. How could she treat this man like that when my father had done so much for her over the past thirty years of their marriage? I know that neither of them is very attentive to the other, but she could at least have the courage to get a divorce instead of having an affair. 

“And you must be Alyce.” His voice was kind, but I was feeling stubborn, and angry at my mother, so I almost didn't know he was addressing me. 

I force myself to smile and take his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I hear you're quite the artist.” He had nice blue eyes, and his hair was clearly going gray, but he was dying it dark brown to try and deceive either himself or others. 

“I try to be,” Christian laughs at my pathetic joke and I find myself glancing to my mother. She'd told him I'm an artist? I've never known her to even mention my interests to anyone before. 

“Oh, how rude of me.” He takes my hand and pulls me slightly, directing my attention elsewhere. “This is my son, Toby. He's much more interesting than I am.” 

Standing off behind him, with hands in pockets and looking off at a statue in the lobby, is a man of about twenty or so, with shaggy dark brown hair. 

“Tobias, come introduce yourself.” He turns and my heart aches as he gives me an oh-too-familiar grin, green eyes shining. I feel like I might fall to my knees as he walks towards us and holds out his own hand, brushing aside his bangs. 

“Sorry, I was really interested in that work.” My hand shakes as I take his, my mouth dry. 

Almost everything about him was the same; it was uncanny. The way he brushed aside his hair, the way he gave that stupid relaxed grin and his nose wrinkled a bit when he did. The shade of green was darker, but they had just as much sparkle as the ones I'd been so used to seeing.

He tilts his head slightly, smile faltering in embarrassment, “Have I done something wrong?”

I blink and shake my head, realizing I must have been gawking. “Oh, no, forgive me. It's just... You look like someone I once knew.” 

His name echoes in the back of my mind and I try to lock it away. My head throbs and my throat aches as I try to not to fall to pieces. I had finally gone a whole month with no tears- it couldn't all go to waste now. 

He laughs, and I hurt a little more inside as it rings with familiarity. “Good, I thought I had something in my teeth.” 

 I didn't think I'd ever have to feel this way again. Meeting June had been bad enough, but this was different. Lilith was dead when I met June- the girl of this world who looked just like her. But Cheshire... Cheshire wasn't dead. He was just out of my reach, and in a world I believe I may never be able to reach again. That kind of loss is heartbreaking because it's their and there should be nothing to keep me from it, yet fate begs to differ. And then this happens. 

“I'm Alyce.” I find myself saying, “What work were you looking at?” 

“This statue here...” He goes on to talk about its history and the artist, and I listen- I really do- but I find myself distracted by the smallest things. 

I had met June several times since I first encountered her in that cafe just a few months ago and in all the time since I had come to realize that she and Lilith were two very different people. They may have had the same facial structures and similarities in their movements and reactions; but as people they were completely different. It’s like when you have a pair of twins who look alike and act alike, but you can tell them apart in the ways they act and behave.

It had taken some time for me to realize this, and I felt badly for treating her like the Lilith I had known and not as June. And now I felt I was going to make that same mistake. Tobias may look and sound just like Cheshire, so much it hurt, but he wasn’t my Cheshire.

“So my father tells me you’re interested in art.” He grins and I follow beside him, our parents lagging behind. I was so caught up in his presence I had forgotten how angry I was at my mother for betraying my father.

“I wanted to go to college for an art degree.” I say, feeling almost nervous.

“My father wanted me to follow him into politics, but I disappointed him by majoring in Psychology. Art is more of a hobby.”

“My mother doesn’t approve of my interest in the arts.” I look over my shoulder to see her laughing and touching Christian lightly on the arm. I turn in disgust, “Let’s just say I was more than stunned when she brought me here. She never shows any interest in things I’m passionate about.”

“Sometimes parents are so blinded by what they desire their children to be, that they can’t see what their children had grown to become.” His eyes look down on mine softly, “I’m sure someday both of them will realize what they’ve missed out on.”

My mind can’t wrap itself around how similar they sounded, yet how differently they talked. Tobias was well educated, and spoke with control and contemplation, but Cheshire would just say how he felt when he felt it, with no restraint.

I tried to find any difference to latch myself onto, to help me stay in this world and not allow my mind to take me to the one I could never see again. I focused on his clothing; a dark pair of casual jeans and new sneakers. His shirt was a black button down, but he wore a faded leather jacket over it, as if to downplay just how expensive his attire actually was. His dark brown hair was obviously different, and worn with that just out of bed mess. His face almost looked strange without those silly cat ears on his head.

This boy was normal. One hundred percent human, with nothing out of the ordinary. And he seems so genuinely kind and perfect that it makes it hurt even more. It would have been so much easier if he was as awful as I had initially pictured him to be. But I was uncontrollably drawn to him with curiously and a longing for something I could no longer have. I’d been trying so hard to end my personal pity party, and it’s like someone just cut the rope and let me fall back in.

“So you mentioned I look like someone you knew.” We had toured most of the museum, and Tobias now leans against a marble balcony overlooking a dancing fountain below. “So did he move away or…?” Tobias seemed almost embarrassed to ask.

“I think I was the person who moved away in this situation. And I’d give almost anything to go back.”

“Wow,” He laughs, running a hand through his hair, “I feel like I’m competing with perfection,”

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t be saying all this, Tobias-,”

“Call me Toby.” He pushes from the wall. “And I don’t mind I suppose. Sometime these things just need to be said. We’ve all had those times, and sometimes it’s easier to tell a stranger rather than a close friend. The judgment doesn’t feel as harsh.”

I smile slightly, “Are you judging me, Toby?”

He laughs brightly, “Only a little. What was he like?”

I brace my hands on the ledge and look down to the water as it jumps and leaps through the air. I laugh a bit at the question; it seemed silly to me as I thought about my answer.

 “If someone had asked me that when he was still around, I probably would have told them he was… he was odd, and eccentric and most certainly that he needed to just calm down and enjoy things at a slower pace.”

I bite my lip and look at Toby’s face. He was intently listening and I kept going. “But now, that I’ve had time away, and I’m able to truly think of all that he was and all he did, my answer would be so different. He was a wonderful person, and although, yes, he was very eccentric and wild in his actions… he was so thoughtful and caring about everything he did. He said what he meant and he was never afraid to be himself, no matter what it cost him. He did move quickly, but I know now that it was in his nature to take things as they came and to not dwell on them for longer than necessary.”

Quietly, I finish, “I wish I had the strength to do that. If I could I would tell him that every day.”

“Sounds like you were in love.” His words were thoughtful, and he has one of those all knowing grins and I smile back.

“I don’t really know, actually. But I know I should have told him more often while I had the chance. There were a lot of people I should have told more often.” Silently, tears begin to well in my eyes.

In concern, he reaches for me, but the motion had hit too close to home. “I’m sorry, Tobias, I can’t do this.” Regretfully, I run towards the nearest restroom and hit speed dial, sliding against the corner wall until I crumple to the floor.

The phone clicks as it’s answered and I take a shaky breath into the receiver, “June- I need you to come get me from the art museum.”

“I’m on my way, sweetie.” It clicks as she disconnects, no explanation needed and I let the phone fall as I cry my first tears in a month.