Summary: In the Kingdom of Hearts a pair of brothers live a modest life in the village in the Duchess' Duchy. That is, until one of them gets drafted for the army. And with the war against Spades going on, his chances of survival seems slim. Rus can't let his brother die.
Many years ago, a young boy followed a rabbit and fell into a rabbit hole. Down this hole, he found many adventures and oddities. Grinning cats, mad hatters, a Queen who ruled over a deck of cards. It was a land which obeyed the rule of fiction; only the imagination sets the limits. The boy, who got the title “Alice” – meaning “One Who Imagines” in the local language, travelled through the land. He met countless dangers, but also people who wished him well. Eventually, though, the boy returned home.
Fewer years ago, an army came to the land. An army who wished access to the almost infinite resources of this land. The war was short, and soon, the Queen and King of Hearts were forced off the thrones they once had sat upon as Her Former Majesty ordered the boy’s beheading.
The Alice had returned to Wonderland. This time, he was not a child, nor was he alone.
The Hat House had stood empty for years. Rumours had it he was at the new King of Heart’s side, as an advisor or prisoner. No one was truly sure. All they knew was that the Alice had met him during his first visit here. The dark, top hat-shaped building stood quiet and empty, spiderwebs covering its small veranda. Rus averted his eyes as he passed by, hurrying faster. A shiver travelled up his spine. No one lingered here, ever. Plus, he was already late, having opted to take the route past the March Manor rather than through Bacham. The town swarmed with soldiers. It wasn’t safe to pass through.
He sighed in relief as the Duchy, and the village, came into view. Tiny stone houses, roofs filled with hay or even plants. Their own cottage, complete with a small vegetable garden behind. Smiling, he swept his patched coat closer around himself. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. It was theirs. Even if the Duchess, who had been allowed to keep her position after the dethroning of the old royalty, did enjoy taxing them a little too much. She was quite the sadist. Not that he’d ever say that aloud. Her temper was infamous; she was the former queen’s mother after all. And the Queen of Hearts must’ve gotten it from somewhere.
When he entered the village, the world’s ugliest pig came waddling, grunting at him. He nodded in greeting. It was the Duchess’ son, who they all took turns feeding. It still wore that stupid baby hat it had had when it transformed from a baby to a pig. During the Alice’s last visit. The village was quiet. Rus was on the main road, yet it was almost empty. Only the baker’s wife was outside, emptying a bucket by the front porch. A window squeaked. Loud in the silence. Mrs. Baker tilted her head when she saw him, stepping back toward the door.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low, sympathetic. When he blinked at her, furrowing his brow, she shook her head, stepping back inside again. The sound of the door closing behind her seemed to echo, almost deafening.
For a moment, Rus froze. Unsure what she had meant. Then his eyes widened, and he froze. There was really only one reason the village would be so empty. One reason Mrs. Baker would say such a thing. Blue. His breath hitched. His soul sped up in his chest as he broke out into a sprint. He held his coat closed with one hand, its tail trashing in the wind as he ran. He passed by the bakery, the cobbler, the Dodo’s house. They were like a grey blur in the corner of his eyes. He was focused on one thing only. The narrow road leading toward their cottage.
In one moment, he was running. In the next, he was crashing toward the ground, foot caught in the handle of a pail. A gasp of pain escaped him as his elbows took the hit, but he didn’t take the time to feel. For a moment, he saw two glowing dots of orange in the darkness beneath a veranda. They quickly faded away. Scrambling to his feet, he ran again. His thin soles smattered against the ground, sending flashes of pain up his feet every time he stepped on a particularly sharp stone.
He was gasping when the cottage came into view. His soul was in his throat as he slowed, staring. A carriage was parked outside the fence. Blue stood in the door, gripping the doorframe tightly. Rus could almost hear it crack. And in front of him. He stopped breathing entirely. In front of him stood three men, all dressed in the black and red uniforms of the castle. Of Hearts’ army.
Feeling cold, stiff, Rus forced himself to continue forward. He hunched his shoulders, feeling his hands shake as he opened the wooden wicket. The step into the garden felt a mile long. Four pairs of eyes all found him, and he flinched back. Gripped the wicket hard. Then he met Blue’s eyes, wide and fearful. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to walk up to them, to stand next to his brother.
When their eyes were upon him, he wanted to shrink into the ground. He grabbed his brother’s hand, squeezing. Blue squeezed back. He knew why they were here. So did Blue. Just like everyone else in the village, for there was only one reason royal soldiers would come to the Duchy and not go straight to Her Grace.
“I passed,” Blue whispered, trembling violently. “The fitness test. I’m joining the army.”
Rus shook his head. No. It wasn’t- Swallowing again, he felt tears well up in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. So he just shook his head again. No. Every citizen of Hearts had to do it. There was no faking it – the Alice and his officials always knew if you did, and you’d lose your head, or worse. Rus wasn’t sure what that worse was, and he didn’t want to know. They’d know Blue was in excellent shape, was excellently strong. Good at obeying orders: he didn’t have Rus’ defiant streak. They’d know this day would come. Yet they had hoped.
They were in war with Spades, his mind supplied. Panic crashed over him, making the word spin. He sagged against Blue, who held him up. Steady as always. After Hearts’ defeat to the Alice, the other three kingdoms had armed themselves. The wars were ceaseless. And now- Blue would go into it.
“Get ready,” one of the soldiers said. His voice was indifferent but accepted no arguments. On the right side of his chest, five heart-shaped black medals hung. Evidence of high rank. “We will leave soon.”
“Yes, sir.” Blue’s voice was faint, shaky, yet he moved Rus out of the way before stepping away himself, inviting them in. Into their home. Their haven. The marrow froze in his bones, only for the warmth to return when the soldiers declined.
Not for a moment did his soul slow down. It felt like his entire body vibrated with the force of it, and when Rus looked down on his hands, they were indeed trembling. He watched numbly as Blue moved around their cottage, gathering what he wished to take with him. No clothes, he wouldn’t need them. He would from tomorrow and on be wearing a uniform. Rus tried to imagine it. His sweet, kind brother in the colours of blood and death. He couldn’t. Couldn’t.
His breathing was shallow as Blue threw a satchel over his shoulder, stepping up to him. The world spun, the floor rocked under him. When the other’s warm arms embraced his waist, he inhaled sharply. Hiding his face against the top of Blue’s skull, orange gathered in the corner of his eyes. When Blue let go off him, he scrambled backwards, leaning against the wall. Blue took a step toward the door. Toward the soldiers who would take him away. Take him to war.
“Stop.” The word was out of his mouth before he could even think. Blue twisted around, and the soldiers stared at him. Rus straightened his back, even as he wanted to cower beneath the soldiers’ haughty glares. “Take me. Take me instead, not him.”
Blue seemed on his way to say something, but before he could, a loud laugh came from the soldier who had earlier spoken. He sneered, staring down at Rus like he was a disobedient child. He couldn’t help but hunch. “You? You’d be worthless in the army. Can’t follow orders, couldn’t even do all the exercise at the test.”
Yeah. Yeah, he was worthless in physical areas. He wasn’t strong, he wasn’t persevering. But…
“Not as a soldier,” he said. His voice was steady, incredible enough. “If… if you let my brother be, if he’ll be safe, His Majesty will get me. I’m offering my complete servitude here. One time offer.
“Brother, no-“ Blue began, horrified. What that meant, here in Wonderland. What it meant to give up yourself… Rus didn’t wish to think of it. It meant you gave up all rights to yourself, agreed to let someone else completely rule your life. It was something only true fools did. An unbreakable contract. Yet… Anything for his brother. He straightened again, clenching his fists. Nodded. Yeah, he meant it. The soldier raised an eyebrow, exchanging a gaze with the others. His mouth curled into an amused smile. He looked almost impressed. With his bravery or stupidity, Rus didn’t know. Probably the last.
“Very well,” the soldier finally replied, and Rus could’ve passed out from the relief. From the horror. Something coiled in his stomach, a mix of everything. Worry, joy, confusion, fear, gratitude. “If the King accepts. We will take you to him. And you, Serif. You’re staying here, for now.”
Rus was given no time to gather his things. Was told that if the king accepted, he would be given everything he needed at the castle. When he hugged his brother farewell, there were tears running down Blue’s cheeks, and he was hugged so tightly he couldn’t breathe. “Stupid,” Blue mumbled. “Why would you do that? Stars, brother. I’ll miss you so much. I love you.”
“I know. Stupid, that’s my middle name.” Was it a sob? Rus wasn’t sure. He hugged back, just as hard, before the soldiers gestured for him to come. “I love you too.”
“Please be safe,” he could hear Blue whisper as he left, following the soldiers to the carriage. He only turned around to give his brother a half-smile. He wanted to promise he would, but didn’t. Never promise anything you cannot keep.
…
The journey wasn’t awfully long. It was shorter than what he’d walked earlier today, since they went through Bacham on their way to the capital. Then it was just straight through Hope, and they would reach the castle. As the carriage jolted over Hope’s cobblestone streets, Rus curled up in the corner of the carriage. The curtains were closed, leaving him in the dark. With the cushioned seat, he sat comfortably, yet he could feel the bile in his throat, a pressure in his stomach. Like he was going to vomit.
Suddenly, a two orange lights lit up the darkness. Staring, transfixed, Rus jolted as a toothy grin revealed itself, soon followed by gold stripes over orange fur. Within moments, a cat was floating mid-air. “Cheshire,” he breathed.
The cat rolled around, grin widening. “Indeed,” he purred. Cheshire belonged to the Duchess, although no one fooled themselves into thinking she had any power over him. Not even the King of Hearts himself had, it seemed. Rus had himself spoken with him only once, although his brother sometimes talked about having conversations with him. At the memories, he started shivering.
“This isn’t looking too good, friend,” Cheshire commented, grin softening into a smile. That was a first. The cat was famous for his grin, after all.
Letting out a sharp chuckle, Rus grinned humourlessly. “You think?”
The cat tilted his head, far too much. Rus shuddered as it almost turned upside down. Then, much to his surprise, Cheshire elongated. He watched in morbid fascination how the head grew, how his cat-shape disappeared, growing into something more humanoid. How the tail just got longer and longer. Then, another skeleton sat in the opposite seat. A fancily dressed one, in a black top hat, black three-piece-suit, and bright orange shirt, and black vest. A cane with a cat head-shaped top rested between his hands. Rus stared, unable to believe his eyes.
Cheshire – or who had been Cheshire only moments before – stretched, studying his gloved hand. He was still purring, tail twitching. “Oh look! It was ages since I wasn’t a cat. I had forgotten how weird fingers are.” He turned to Rus, grin growing at his stupefied expression. “Call me Papyrus now! That’s my name in this body.”
“A-alright,” Rus stuttered, unconsciously pressing himself closer to the wall. “Papyrus.”
The skeleton-who-used-to-be-a-cat beamed at him. The orange tail swished slowly, once stroking Rus’ leg. Just then, Rus gasped as the carriage jolted extra, and he left the seat. A low shriek left Papyrus’ lips as he landed on the other’s tail. Papyrus quickly grabbed it, tearing it away. Rus’ eyes widened, and guilt fell heavy in his stomach.
“Oh, I- I’m so sorry-“ he began, voice a lot more shrill than intended.
“Don’t worry about that!” Papyrus interrupted him, although he was still grimacing, stroking his tail. “It wasn’t on purpose. Now, I wonder, why are you here?”
“To keep my brother safe.” It was hardly more than a whisper, the pain crashing back once more. He could still see the horror in Blue’s eyes as they took him away. His soul fluttered anxiously. Imagination, what would the king do to him? If he accepted, Rus would be little more than a puppet. And the King of Hearts, the Alice, wasn’t known for his mercy.
“How admirable!” Papyrus clapped his hands together, far too cheery. Then again, he was still the Cheshire cat, even if he was no longer a cat. Known for his wide, sometimes eerie grin. Did he ever not look happy? “And where do you want to go from here?”
“I- I don’t think I’ve got much choice in the matter.”
“You’ve always got a choice. Perhaps you’ll make the choice to not make a choice but there’s always a choice to make and you’ll make the choice one day. You’ll see!” Papyrus’ grin widened, looking almost smug. Rus stared at him, again. What. Then the carriage abruptly stopped, and Rus was thrown back into the backrest, gasping in surprise. Papyrus tilted his head, glancing down on his clothed wrist. “Oh dear, looks like I’m late for tea. The darling Hatter will be so mad.”
Snickering, Papyrus started to fade away. Before Rus had registered what he’d said, only his grin remained. Then he jumped forward. “Wait, the Ha-“
Papyrus was gone. He was alone.
Not for long, however. The door to the carriage soon slid open, revealing a soldier. This time, it wasn’t one of those who had gotten him at home. Rus leaned backwards, wide-eyed, as his breathing shallowed. His palms were most as he stared at the skeleton in the opening. Dressed in armour black as obsidian, a blood-red cape billowing in the wind behind him, stood the Knave of Hearts himself. The leader of the army. A Wonderlandian; unlike most of the King’s closest, he didn’t come from the Outside. Tales were told about how he’d willingly sold out the King and Queen of Hearts to the Alice.
Swallowing, Rus scrambled up closer to the wall, not daring to take his eyes of the other. His soul raced. A fanged mouth grinned beneath purple eyelights before the Knave’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Come,” he ordered.
Nodding, Rus slipped out of the carriage so fast he stumbled. He grunted as his knees hit the ground, gravel digging into them. A cold, metallic hand on his shoulder dragged him up on his feet again. The Knave didn’t say anything else as they made their way into the castle. Rus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scenery. He’d never seen it so close before. Had never thought he would. The heart-shaped arches, the beige walls with red spires. The bushes with red and black roses and the white ivy climbing high on the walls.
Everywhere, servants in uniforms, well-dressed nobles and guards were hurrying. Such frantic activity Rus felt exhausted just by watching it. Still, he had to half-run just to keep pace with the Knave, despite being the taller one. They strode into the castle. People moved out of their way as the Knave’s footsteps echoed through the stone halls, and some frightened gazes were thrown their way. And some confounded, seeing a lowborn such as him in the company of the Knave of Hearts.
Rus wanted to ask where they were going, but didn’t dare. The Knave would probably not appreciate being questioned by him. The inside was just as beautiful as the outside. Blue would have loved this. White stone, magnificent portraits in intricate golden frames, furniture which must cost more than their house. They reached an open door, black and smooth. Just before Rus passed it, a draft passed by and he flinched. A crash. The shattered remains of a white and red teacup fell to the ground. A drop of sweat slid down his brow – had he gone one step further…
“You’re late,” a yell came. Rus twisted around in alarm, only to see Cheshire – once again a cat – lying on top of a fancy chair’s thin backrest. Grinning at the skeleton at the head of the table, which was covered in teapots, cups and cakes. The skeleton dressed in a black top hat decorated with intricate clock pointers, sewing needles, and goggles, and a black and red suit. Rus gaped. The Mad Hatter. He was… having a tea party?
“I am very sorry, Red,” Cheshire hummed, rolling around so he was lying on his back. “Had some business to take care of, you know how it is.” He disappeared, only to reappear, now facing Rus. “Oh, hello! Look how fancy! His Most Importantness the Knave himself is taking you to His Royallest Majesty.”
As he spoke, the Hatter’s head jerked up. His eyes lingered on Rus for only a moment before they found the Knave, and his angry countenance immediately went missing. Instead it melted into a goofy smile. “Hiya sweetheart. Still up fer the execution tonight?”
Much to Rus’ shock, the Knave’s half-amused, half-disgruntled expression flickered. For a brief second, he smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it. It’s been too long since we had a proper date.”
Well. That wasn’t the creepiest thing Rus had ever heard at all. Not. At. All. Everyone went to executions on dates, didn’t they? He shivered.
“Ah, love is beautiful,” Cheshire sighed as the Knave grabbed Rus’ arm, dragging him through the hallway without another word. He stumbled after, attempting to keep up with the knight. As they turned around a corner, he could see light in the end of it. Outside again, it seemed.
Indeed, it opened itself before them, revealing first a blue sky and then white walls. The greenest lawn spread out in front of them, and Rus’ soul began to pound so hard it felt like his ribs were breaking. He froze in his steps, and almost fell over since the Knave still had not let go off him. The garden certainly wasn’t empty. Nobility were everywhere, carrying flamingos, and servants carrying trays zick-zacked around them. And there, in the middle of it all, stood the King. He was talking with a pink-dressed lady as they made their way on the lawn, people parting to let the Knave pass by.
His marrow felt cold in his veins. When they stopped, a kick to his knees had him falling headlong to the ground, landing on his knees. The Knave snorted as he bowed deeply at the waist for the king. “Kneel before the King of Hearts, peasant.”
At his title, the King turned around. Rus could only see him in the corner of his eye as he bowed his head. A mouth full of sharp fangs smiled as he saw the Knave. He sounded surprised as he spoke: “Ah, Razz. Who have you brought?”
“Your Majesty,” the Knave said. Then his hand lay down on top of Rus’ skull, turning it up so he was looking straight at the king. King Edge of Hearts. The Alice. The to-be conqueror of all of Wonderland. “State your business.”
The King stared down at him, bemused. A pink flamingo rested in his hand as well, and a hedgehog lied at his feet. It was curled up in a ball. Rus’ eyes flickered over his appearances, quickly taking him in. His right eye was badly scarred. Just like all officials, he was dressed in black and blood-red. More black then red. A beautiful three-piece-suit, and a black crown on his head. In the very middle of the crown sat a heart-shaped ruby. It shimmered in the sunlight.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Rus inhaled. His soul flittered. He managed to hold eye-contact as he said, “I’ve c-come to give up myself to you, Your Majesty, in exchange for my bro- brother’s safety.”
“Why woul-“ the King began, interrupting himself as the lady next to him whispered something in his ear. His eyes widened, and Rus held his breath. ”Your brother, you say? Safety how?”
“He passed the test, Your Majesty,” he explained, pressing out the words. Still, they were faint. He squeezed the grass between his hands to keep them from trembling. His breath caught in his throat before he managed to continue. “For the army. I don’t- he’s all I’ve got I can’t let him die.”
A grin spread across the King’s face, almost as wide as Cheshire’s. Chuckling, voice rough, he peered down at Rus. Whispers spread among the nobles, who were all watching with rapt attention. “Well. I can surely guarantee the safety of one peasant. Come with me.”
“A-and he’ll be taken care of? Well? Your Majesty.”
The King raised an eyebrow, but nodded. Without another word, he handed over his flamingo to a servant. Rus jumped to his feet to follow as he strode into the castle again. The Knave came with them, and Rus could feel his gaze burning at his back. Fiddling with his sleeves, he hunched his shoulders. Stars. He really stuck out like a sore thumb here. His brown tunic was anything but subtle in this ocean of colour.
They climbed stair after stair, and he was panting as they reached the top. The King, and the Knave in his armour, didn’t seem affected by all. Two guards stood at one side each of a dark door, opening it as they approached. Glancing out the one window in the room, Rus gasped. He could see everything. The rooftops of Hope spread out beneath, and in the horizon, he could see the forest and the chimneys of March Manor. Beautiful.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t linger. The Knave elbowed him, forcing him to continue. Entering the room, he realized they must be in the King’s office. The walls were covered with books, and in the middle of the room a huge, carved desk of dark wood stood. The King slid into the chair behind it, leaving Rus to stand in front, weighing on one foot and then the other. He squirmed as the King studied him, wanted to sink into the floor.
Faster than he had thought possible, the King had picked out a parchment and quill, and written down a full page. A dotted line waited in the bottom of it. Still grinning, the King held out the quill for him to take. Breathing in slowly, Rus took it.
When the contract was shoved against him, he took only a few seconds to look it over. He couldn’t read it anyway, there was no use to try. By Imagination, what he was about to do was probably the stupidest thing in the history of Wonderland. But it was all he had to give. He had nothing else; nothing he could give a king but himself. In the dark behind a bookcase, he thought he could see two dots glowing orange. Rus dipped the quill in the blood red ink he was offered. Slowly, he signed the contract. Rus Serif.
“Perfect,” the King almost purred, standing up again. He leaned over the desk, grabbing Rus’ jaw. Tilted his head to the left, and then to the right. Examined him. Ruby red eyelights shone with delight. Rus swallowed, allowing himself to be manhandled. No longer did he have any choice in the matter. He trembled, despite his attempts to stop. What was the King going to do with him? “Mine.”
Frightened, Rus nodded. “Y-yours, Your Majesty.”
The King hummed. His smile was pleased. “How wonderful. I have always wanted someone’s complete loyalty.”
