Villainess Of Hearts

The night soon came to an end—and the King of Hearts was left alone in the Royal Dining Hall. Or rather he felt alone. Servants were still cleaning up the remainders that signified that a banquet had indeed occurred. But everyone else he could have possibly shared a more intimate conversation were now gone. The servants here would revere him too much and so he didn't feel like he had an equal. 

Not that he actually had felt any connection with the majority of the people he interacted with. His last conversation with the King of Clovers, Ivan Nordskov was nothing but exchanging pleasantries and men exchanging smiles and nods.

He had never felt much more comfortable, the aura that the man possessed was similar to the Joker's. They smiled, nodded and agreed but it was obvious that their smile was a predatory smile… and his friend didn't see it. Was she blinded by love or something? Alexander Hartsmichdt rubbed his face for a moment.

The King had seen the Joker leave the room while talking with a certain servant—and though he was a tad worried that something terrible might happen to the woman, he was too tired to check upon them. It would actually just incite the man more to do something awful in hopes for a satisfying reaction.

"A fucking sociopath." He muttered underneath his breath.

But the people around him were almost always questionable, their brains were—it wasn't as if he was sane either. Only the most insane of men would claim that they were lucid. But at least the evening was done and he could rest, and he was left alone with his own thoughts. The King, Queen and Delegate of Clovers left together and the Prime Minister was…

"Your Majesty!"

The Blyke Edelweiss came running back into the Royal Dining Hall and the expression on their face was someone who looked like they had run out of breath—where exactly had they run off to? Alexander wouldn't know and he wouldn't ask, "What is it, Blyke?" His voice was kept low, not enough to call attention to the other servants but still enough for him to call the Prime Minister by name.

"T-The Lord Duke would like to discuss some things—"

"We're not hunting down that Cat person." Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose. He would have wanted that something akin to a loose cannon would be apprehended, even if it meant that the King of Clovers was the one to do it… but it was obvious that the Queen of Hearts didn't wish to harm a single hair on the man's head.

He could tell that much.

The Queen of Hearts, Rosalyn Lockhart's face was actually easy to read if one kept staring at it—if one, took note of the miniscule changes. And though it didn't take a lot of brain cells to understand when the Queen of Hearts was livid with a certain individual, it was also surprisingly easy enough to tell when the Queen favored an individual.

Their patience was far longer, their mannerisms and even the expression changed when they truly enjoyed someone's presence. A certain fondness… that Alexander could never actually obtain for himself. He noticed the look on the Prime Minister's face and he coughed, "What did you say?"

"It isn't about the magical creature from the Blue Forest, Your Majesty." The man's voice was serious as they shook their head. "It's in concern of the assassination regarding the Queen, but it's already late isn't it, Your Majesty? I've told the Lord Warth—"

"Tell him to meet me in the war room."

"W-war?!"

"Meeting room, I'm not leaving this conversation for tomorrow. Apologize for asking for his time upon this odd hour, but this matter is important. Anything that would help us find a lead on the attackers or ensure, Her Majesty's protection is of prime importance."

"O-of course, Your Majesty!" The man scampered off again.

. . .

The night was cold or rather the cold dungeon floor was freezing. Nicholas Hatter sat on the cellar and rubbed his hands together, "If they don't kill me tonight, I'll just end up frozen like the Winter Caves in the Diamond Kingdom." He tried to blow some air into his hands but they were also somewhat frosty. And no, he wasn't talking aloud to himself.

But he was currently with someone else.

"Hmmm…" A low hum and rumble escaped a certain individual's lips, or more precisely the Chesire yawned and rubbed their eye. "That sounds cold."

Nicholas eyed the man… cat man outside of his cellar. "Indeed, indeed it is, if only there was a kind soul who could actually assist me." They hadn't heard the man enter down from the staircase or anything of that note. Instead, they seemed to have been there the moment that he had been thrown into the jail area. Normally, he would have been more chatty and ask them whether the cat ears they have was natural or something akin to an illusion or a costume.

A languid smile formed on the man's lips. "Indeed. What a shame."

The Hatter had at least caught their name when they asked for directions ( they were confusing like that ) but anything in regards to escaping or letting someone else know of his situation was promptly ignored. And it was a little irksome but Nicholas knew now to expect anything from a stranger.

If anything, at least he had a companion with him instead of spending the entire night alone. A little hunger was fine, his throat was a little dry and he was parched but it was nothing in comparison to spending the night without a friend to make the time pass much quicker—it always seemed slow and stuck for Nicholas, mind you.

"Are you not even a little bit curious on why a fine fellow like me ended up in the Castle of Heart's dungeons?" Nicholas Hatter surprisingly didn't have much to converse with a person who was more intent on just observing the man stuck in the cellar.

Chesire tilted his head at them, his ear twitched for a moment until he finally shrugged. "No, not really."

"... I came here to meet the Queen of Hearts." Nicholas breathed and rubbed his face, "I know it sounds mad but—"

For once, the Chesire cut them off and finally grabbed ahold of the conversation. The cat person was initially outside of the cellar, but they soon reappeared inside of it. His eyes that glowed eerily earlier were now more cat-like now as he smiled. Finally, he injected a question and showed interest, "Why did you come here? Were you involved in those rat bastards trying to kill the Queen?"

"Of course not! I came to warn her," The Hatter frowned, "But I'm afraid I may have been a little bit too late, I just wish to see her fine… but I ended up having a tiny fiasco with the King of Hearts." He coughed lightly. 

. . . 

… Rosalyn Lockhart had relented to it. The man's request that is. Her personal chambers had cushions and sofas for the Knight to sit down upon while he stayed up late, and she still had a few spare books that lay around on a table. Her Knight was more than capable of reading books, he was not only a master of blades but he was intellectual.

It was one of the reasons why she trusted the man.

Julius Ginellevé was as much of her right hand man as much as he was her paramour. He was skilled in both. Although, she was trying to hold back from reaching the man and pulling them to her bed. And so changing while he was around also presented a problem on its own as she stripped her gown. The man shifted from one foot to another, completely aware of what was happening behind him. 

She couldn't help it—the tension between them was thick and sweltering when it wanted to be.

She swallowed a lurch for a moment and turned away from the man and stepped towards her closet and chose a suitable nightgown. A fabric that was both soft and silky, it was smooth and cool as she slipped it on. She heard the man's breath hitch and she glanced back at him. His back was still turned to her, so perhaps she was imagining it. Once she was finally dressed and the woman climbed back up to her bed. The bed dipped slightly as she nestled back into her blankets and rested her head back into the pillows. Rosalyn Lockhart would make no advances.

...Her dresser was in front of the Knight, she didn't even need to look back to see her. 

A searing sensation scorched her stomach, but she shook her head. She attempted to think of disgusting things to clear her head—unsweetened tea, dry and flaky tarts and the King of Hearts… no, the man was also attractive. She wanted to curse him as a childish memory and emotion swept through her. The Queen of Hearts wanted to rest now, but her eyelids weren't heavy at all.

She was wide awake. 

Her heart pounded, a mixture of fear and slight anticipation all at once. Even she didn't know why she was hesitant in reaching for the man and inviting him into her bed. The two of them were… used to this. A cold night did wonders for relationships. But her Knight didn't make a move towards her, as if sensing the mood as well, but if he had done anything then—Rosalyn Lockhart bit on her lip. 

Sleep. 

Close her eyes.

Inhale. Exhale.

Take deep breaths and anchor her thoughts elsewhere and she could do this. She could survive the night as she shut her eyelids and tried to quell the erratic pacing of her chest. Her mind searched for—The sound of the grandfather clock ticking in her room was rhythmic and hypnotic. Its lull was continuous, constant and unwavering.. And soon enough, her breathing became steady as she drifted off into her dreams.