Villainess Of Hearts

Warning: Blood spills.

Mallory did not return that night and Nicholas Hatter had to comfort Harold. "Where did she go?" he cried and wailed. Somehow there was an immense sadness from the man who was usually so gleeful and happy. It was so severe that Nicholas couldn't even let out his own pain and troubles that stuck in his chest.

Alice had returned.

It was supposed to be magnificent, and somehow, even the sound of her voice had been enough to fill him with a nostalgia for a young woman that he hadn't even properly met this time. And along with it were some memories that played in his mind.

An uprising.

Of a brother killed by their kin.

Someone else seizing the throne—

He placed a hand on his forehead and tried to bear out the excruciating pains of a memory he experienced in a time before now. Nicholas Hatter, the usually very chipper man, grabbed the other man's shoulder and said, "I understand you tend to be very lonely, but I'm here with you—"

Harold sniffed and shook his head. "It's not myself that I'm worried about, I'm concerned about where she could be and I hope she isn't lonely without me, Nicholas."

The Hatter was at a loss for words.

There was a fine distinction between those two.

One was of a selfish, if not naively selfish boy who demanded the presence of someone he enjoyed no matter how it may have obstructed the schedule of his desired person—and the other was someone who cared about the whereabouts of their dearly beloved person.

He should have been able to see it from the start.

Nicholas Hatter stood up. "I'll look for Mallory."

"Let me come with you—I don't want to be alone!"

Well, Harold was still Harold. Nicholas sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "You should at least wait for her to return, just in case. I don't think it'd be very fun if both of us left, she returned and then it'll be a game of cat and mouse."

. . .

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps forward.

The Queen of Hearts hesitated and then turned around to flee from the fire, the haunting screams of a person burned alive—until she saw a shadow appear in the maze of labyrinths. At first, she assumed it was Alexander returning with Alice, but the person was alone.

It was a small figure, shorter than her, and though she tensed at first… she soon realized who it was when the moonlight shone on her blithe figure. "Mallory, what are you doing here?"

A lack of a response was a telltale sign.

She chose to think of it as the woman shaken up like her and asked, "Are you alright or hurt?" But there was something wrong. Somehow the surrounding flames grew stronger and sparked, and so the Queen tried to take control of her panic and anxiety clouding her judgement. "Did you sneak in here like Nicholas? Where is he—"

The woman pounced at her, an ear-splitting and feral scream that contained and held no reason. The Queen of Hearts could barely stop herself, and the two of them fell into the ground like heavy sacks. She seized the woman's arm with her right hand and stopped her from stabbing—she was stronger than Mallory.

And yet the other woman's hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed hard.

Wind was forced out of her lungs, and though she might have tried to push the smaller woman off with her left hand, both of her legs were planted securely on each side of Rosalyn.

Tears blurred the Queen's vision, and she lost consciousness for a moment and only struggled to regain it back. The lack of air was beginning to take effect. Or perhaps it was the choking. She couldn't even strangle out a hoarse question to ask why—

Crushed to death by someone else.

Someone she knew.

The more that Rosalyn struggled, the more strength she lost in her limbs. The image of a deranged woman above her was the only image she could see, along with the feelings of something cold dripping down her face.

Tears.

And it was there that she realized there was something wrong with Mallory. Her eyes were clouded and lost in a murky color.

But did that help Rosalyn in this situation?

"Mallory snap out of it—" She finally coughed out but to no avail. Her arm shook and began to wear out, and the sharp glint of the knife in Mallory's hand dropped.

The Queen of Hearts craned her neck at the last moment and a stinging pain enveloped itself in her face, but the knife ultimately missed and planted on the grass. Rosalyn forced herself into this hour and threw Mallory off of her. The woman cast back away, but she had still not awakened from whatever had caused her to become like this.

But at least she was weaponless.

The knife was left lying on the grass—the Queen of Hearts picked it up and pointed it at Mallory. "Stop this instant, I don't want to hurt you." However, the other woman didn't care and lunged towards her rabidly. Like a wild animal on the verge of capture, she attacked with a rapid blow.

Rosalyn hissed at the contact of sharp nails digging into her flesh.

She tried to give a kick, but nearly lost her footing, her own gown proving to be a troublesome choice of wardrobe. The Queen of Hearts couldn't even shake the woman off her arm. The two of them struggled to hold on to the knife—and Rosalyn soon received a punch in the gut. The Queen keeled over and along with her came striking down the blade.

Blood spurted over the ground.

The knife dug into Mallory's shoulder, and Rosalyn's grip instinctively loosened. An apology started out from her throat, even as she stared at the blood dripping over the woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry—"

Mallory twisted the knife out of her shoulder, the pain not even registering on her face, and she attacked again. Unfettered and undeterred by everything else, the woman only had one thing apparent in her face.

She would kill.