Villainess Of Hearts

"Your Majesty, you must do something!" The people pleaded with the King to interfere with her. 

Spineless fools who turned to someone who could overrule her decisions, someone who the Joker might have considered as well if their relationship was much better than she thought it would be.

And instead of rising up to the challenge, she backed down.

Her strength betrayed her, knees weakening because he came. She did not know how to explain it. The words caught in her throat at the sight of the King of Hearts walking in as the sickly sensation of shame burned within her. 

It spread from across her blood and crawled up to her face and stayed there. 

She could not will it to be gone.

Rosalyn Lockhart wanted to scratch at her face and simply look away. Bang her head across the banquet table and get this welling emotion out of her so she could get on with her life. But how could she face him?

How could she look him in the eye? 

Everything from last night came back to her. It sprang up like a fountain of waters, bitter to the taste. The memory of the man leaving the labyrinth of maze and stepping back into the garden and catching her in the act—the look on his face and that of Alice. 

A shock in his face, disgust and an uneasiness that settled in her chest.

She had suffered last night trying to carry on past the guilt and the same. It filled her with enough grief and an intolerable sensation that made her stop speaking. The urge to run away beset her, even in this hour when she both had the Joker and her brother close by… she couldn't bear it.

And yet the Nobles continued on with vehemence in their tongues.

Poison in their words. Lord Marius and other complainers spoke up, declaring all of her words right back at her. "She wanted to kill the children!"

"Blaming loyal subjects cannot be done!"

Voices of accusations snapped back and forth.

Resilient and undeterred, hoping for the support from the King of Hearts. Rosalyn Lockhart did not know if it was to be given, and yet she heard nothing. On her left, the Joker's expression was as cold as ice. Seated across from her was her brother.

Her brother's posture was stony and steely as they simply allowed the others to continue on. It would do no good for them to raise their voice in, but she wished they had interfered.

There was no anger inside of her that she could well out and throw at these men and women who claimed to be from Houses of Dignity.

Rosalyn Lockhart was tired.

Finally, the King of Hearts decided to speak up after hearing and ascertaining what might have been the truth from the lies. A Reaper that separated the good from the bad. 

He had a hand on his chest. "The Queen of Hearts is more well versed in the law than I, I trust that everything she said is of good counsel. I will naturally look into it of course—but is this what good men worry about?"

"Your Majesty—"

"Punishment is still needed for those who dare cause trouble for all of us or would you rather let nothing happen to them at all?" he asked quietly, but his voice still seeped into the room.

Whether it was because he was King, or he became a King because of who he was… the outrage of the people calmed down to listen to him. Somehow, it was easier for them to respect the King more than a Queen.

One didn't have to question why.

Alexander's breath was cool and collected, but his eyes held a different light. "They have murdered innocent people and if they are not put to justice now then when will it come? Will we simply stall it and in the future, let it be forgotten as simply a minor incident in the Castle?"

A silence ensued in the dining hall.

How could they argue with that?

The Nobility had argued and protested when the Queen of Hearts said it, but when it was him, they accepted the sentence without any more turmoil. Such hypocrisy made Rosalyn Lockhart want to condemn them further.

How dare they heed to him—but why wouldn't they?

The people looked at him as her superior. Though she often thought that was untrue. All she could do was focus on the dinnerware when the King of Hearts arrived beside her and sat down. He started to eat, and the hubbub of the dining hall died.

She could not explain it, but he did better than her at placating the people from Hearts.

It was something she truly envied. Something she once desired for herself, but seemed to have no capacity for. And no matter how much she tried to deny it within her, there was a certain part of her that had longed for his approval.

But how much respect could he hold for a woman who was… herself?

Trapped in such thoughts and emotions, the Queen of Hearts barely caught the glimmer of a black book like her own. Simple thoughtless actions, passing events that didn't catch the eye of even the most panic-driven people.

The Joker raised a brow and sipped his tea, recognizing the book at once. "Oh, right, he had been the one who kept it for the family."

"What was that?" Lord Reinhard Lockhart asked.

"None of which concerns you, my Lord." the Joker said. The man might have batted his eyes at the Lord, but it was not the time for any merry celebration or jostlings at all. People were focused on the events of today that they failed to look back on before.

. . .

He did not know what to do.

For once in the life of Nicholas Hatter, he only looked down at his empty teacup and then pretended to drink it. As if the droplets fell down on his tongue and the exquisite brew of Mallory's tea concoction filled his mouth.

Of course, he remembered the recipe. He could make it if his eyes were closed.

But it changed nothing.

"So long, old friend of mine…" He hadn't had the heart to return to the dormitory and find Harold's condition at a worse state than his. While the Hatter knew the truth, the other man would have still been caught in delusion.

Hoping for her to come back.

But she was dead. Gone, gone—he had seen the light fade from her eyes and the cry of the Queen that pierced the night. The cold fury that settled in his chest would be incomparable to what Harold might be feeling now. This man had to know—and yet Nicholas said nothing.

He kept his mouth shut.

Delaying it would bring them no good. He needed to speak the truth and then get it over with… and then resume to their normal lives? Would that really be possible?

It was a Hatter's folly.

He would have a need to take on a greater role this time in Harold's life and replace the hole that Mallory's death brought. Almost act like a wife, mother and caretaker? It was obvious that Harold would not wish for him to replace Mallory. Even the mere suggestion of it could make a cry of outrage.

He couldn't help but smile.

He wanted to cry, to shout from the depths of his lungs and toss everything in his workroom to the ground. And yet here he was, so numb…  so numb that he couldn't even find his eyes tearing up. 

Instead, he only gnashed his teeth.

Numerous regrets filled his thoughts. If only. If only he had been any faster, any more wiser and chose to trust his friends instead of his own self. Mallory hadn't exactly liked the Queen back then but he ignored such feelings in lieu of basking in her presence. Taken astray and possibly bewitched in a way that had him searching, hoping she was alright even now.

It was—her fault.

The Queen of Heart's fault. He had seen it happen, seen the final strike to the chest despite his distance away from her and the rest of the people inside of the maze. She had not seen him. Almost nobody had seen him.

But he had been there.

Hidden in the shadows, while the moon fell down and bore witness to Mallory's death in the garden. It was a sting to the chest, and a slap in the face. Even if he told this detail to Harold… what good would it bring them? 

Absolutely nothing. It was best to keep it a secret. Chase away the terrible reality and pretend it was all a dream. He and Harold were best at drinking tea and enjoying the present moment. Things like this were uncomfortable and something he wanted to avoid.

Mallory would have smacked him for thinking this way.

He shouldn't have trusted her.

The old him—the one of the past had once dedicated his life to saving Alice, crossing past time and space for it, so there must have been a reason for it, right? Would it be her that he wanted to protect? He did not feel the same tug of endearment for the woman, sharp as his memory might have been of her smile.

It was a terrible thing, to wish to look beyond the pain and find longing for someone not meant to be his. Nicholas Hatter finally admitted it to himself. No matter the events, somehow, despite the rationality of his thoughts—he had grown to love her?

Nicholas thought it was too big of a proclaiment.. Intrigued? Adored? He needed a better word.