Chapter One

Hatter watched all the soldiers in the room nervously as he was escorted into the throne room. He did his very best to not look at the walls as he walked down the corridors, chains clinking together with each step. His nerves built up in his stomach as he walked toward the looming wooden doors. They peaked as he and his “escorts” reached the doors. The guards in front of the doors, wearing black armor marked with spades, slowly pushed the doors opened in what to seemed to be in a manner designed for dramatic effect. But Hatter knew it wasn’t for effect. He knew exactly how heavy those damn doors were, had helped pushed them open himself many many times. You had to be strong and have multiple people with you to open both them quickly and simultaneously. There was only ever one person that could open those doors singlehandedly He also knew he was expected to walk forward as the doors were opened but he hesitated as his eyes immediately caught sight of the giant heart above the throne.

His hesitation wasn’t taken patiently and the guards shoved him forward. He stumbles but didn’t say a word as he approaches the throne. He kept his eyes directed to the floor and refused to look around, especially as he walks passed the spot he knows has a bloodstain that could never be removed and even if it could, the memory of the moment would remain with him. The doors slam shut and he flinches as screams of the past echo through his head.

 

He hates this place. He hates everything it took from him.

 

“The Mad Hatter,” a clear high voice drifts down to him as he waits, eyes determinedly kept downcast. He stays quiet and hears the impatient tapping of a foot on stone floors then the click of heels coming toward him and stop.

 

“Look at me,” the queen said in a low but clear voice.

 

Still, he looks at the floor.

 

“LOOK AT ME.” Her voice echoes through the empty room and he can feel her breath on his face.

 

Hatter slowly looks up and even though she was standing right in front of him, it was the boy he saw first.

 

The boy who was no longer a boy.

 

The boy who looked like his father, standing in the black and red formal armor of the royal jack of hearts.

 

The boy who was no older than he had been when he had followed the future king into battle.

 

The boy who couldn’t be more than 18.

 

Hatter felt a wave of nausea rise in his throat and he quickly looks away before fear and guilt and love and something bittersweet can overwhelm him. He meets the eye of the queen. She, thankfully, hadn’t noticed where his attention had immediately gone to.

 

“Now, that’s much better. Tell me, Hatter, do you know why you are here?”

 

Still, he said nothing.

 

“I’m going to advise you of this once and only once. I do not like to repeat myself and I do tire of this game that you seem to be playing. You see, it makes me quite angry when people don’t answer my questions. I’m told that I can be a bit rash when angry. So really, it’s in your best interest to avoid being on the receiving end of my temper and answer my questions when I ask them. I will ask once more; do you know why you are here?”

 

Hatter glared at the young woman in front of him.

 

“No,” he said shortly. “Your grace,” he added as an afterthought.

 

She hummed softly. “The anniversary of the old king’s death is approaching,” she continued with a non- sequitur.

 

Hatter flinched again. He was well-aware of the anniversary. It had been one of the worst days of his life after all.

 

“There is no one in the castle who knew him,” she continued. She turned back toward the throne and gestured for him to follow. He does so cautiously. He’s surprised when she walks passed it, the boy following. He’s not so surprised when he sees where they’re going.

 

“People tell me he was a worthy king. They constantly compare me to him.” She turned to stare at him as she led them into a dark room. “You will tell me about him.”

 

“Your grace,” the boy whispered and Hatter could have sworn he saw her cold, red eyes soften as they looked at the boy.

 

“Why should I tell you anything about him?” Hatter demanded.

 

The queen hit what must have been a light switch because the room was immediately bathed in a bright light.

 

“Because we are his children. And something isn’t quite right here,” the Queen of Hearts said as Hatter stared at the perfectly preserved body of his dead friend, lying in a glass coffin in the middle of the room, with absolutely no signs of decomposition.