Calliope Corvin (sweetsandtarts) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-09-08 20:19:00 |
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Had a wife but couldn’t keep her; He put her in a pumpkin shell And there he kept her very well. Peter, Peter pumpkin eater, Had a pet and couldn’t feed her; Caught a maid who had meant well -- What became of her, no one can tell. Her nerves were beyond frayed, though Cath had been trudging along those paths in the maze beside Jest and behind Hatta for what seemed like an eternity. That stupid little poem and the Sisters’ terrible drawings would not leave her mind. Every once and a while, a shiver would go down her spine as she remembered what they had called her. Your Majesty.. She did not want to be a monarch. She wanted to go to Chess with Jest, and help him save his people. She wanted to open her little bakery there with him, and live out the rest of her days getting plump off of lemon tarts and impossible dreams. All they had to do was never open a door. That was simple enough, wasn’t it? Anything to avoid the fate that was sworn to them otherwise. Cath squeezed Jest’s hand in her own, looking up to seek his golden gaze. His smile made her heart stutter, even if she could see the beginnings of wariness begin to edge in around his eyes. He had rarely fallen silent this entire, insufferable walk. Through the cold, even as blisters began to form on her feet, he had tried to distract her. Jokes, flirtations, and riddles that warmed her heart all the way through. He began into another story, and she listened intently, determined to appreciate his efforts at distracting her. This journey was a seemingly endless one, but when she was by his side, they could accomplish anything. ~~ Her rage was still nearly a living, breathing thing. If Jest hadn’t held her back, she might had clawed Hatta’s face. He had a way of infuriating her in a way that still shocked her. Even as she had set about solving the puzzle on how to pass through the Looking Glass and enter the maze - enter Chess - Cath’s nerves had nearly sizzled with anger. She sniffled the contents of the small bottle, “It isn’t treacle. Shrinking elixir. I’m sure of it.” It smelled like a fine dinner - turkey and pineapple, cherry and custard, toffee and hot buttered toast. Jest had never heard of it, but she looked around and set eyes on a small hand mirror. Gasping, she announced, “That’s it!” The small mirror cast her reflection back at her, but beyond it, she could see rolling yellow hills and emerald forests and snowy, purple mountains. It was Jest’s home. It was Chess. “The Looking Glass! It’s only small on our side!” “But the elixir will make us small so we can pass through.” Jest beamed as he wrapped his arm around her waist, though as he looked at Hatta, he remained infuriatingly silent, “Honestly, Hatta. Why are you acting this way? We’re fulfilling the job we were sent to do, even if it is in a different manner than we expected. And there’s no reason for us to stay here, anyway.” Hatta frowned, and then it slowly crept into a sad smile, but Cath knew that he was still displeased...heartsore, maybe, “I wish for you all the joy this darkened world can employ.” He looked to Cath then, “That, and I expect to be repaid for my assistance in scones and tarts every time I come to visit.” Her anger evaporated, and she sagged a little in Jest’s arms, “I hope you’ll visit us often.” “I am always coming and going somewhere, love. That’s the only way I’ll stay ahead of Time, after all. Go ahead, then. Somewhere there is a white crown waiting for its queen.” ~~ She had heard the scream. She wished that she hadn’t. Cath wished that she could have just ignored the familiarity that tugged at her heart. Perhaps, that she had listened to Hatta when he had told her that she should not look or guess...just drink the elixir and go through the Looking Glass. Never turn back. Never question. Never wonder who had made that awful scream. But she hadn’t listened. She had been unable to ignore it. So, she’d gone to the gate and peered through the bars, and into the pumpkin patch. Her body had frozen, horror stealing through her. For the screams and pleas had come from Mary Ann. The girl had been more than just a maid to her household. She had been Cath’s best friend until the utter betrayal...until she had told Catherine’s parents every secret that had been entrusted to her about Jest. She had made him a criminal in their eyes...a wanted man. They couldn’t stay in Hearts because of her. She had to leave everything she had ever known because of her. And yet… “You can’t follow me. Not any of you.” “You’re not going alone,” Jest had insisted. “I have to. It will be all right. Those drawings - that’s all they are. Odd little drawings from odd little girls.” “Cath--” “I know. It’s too much to risk your life, but I can go. I’ll go and I’ll save her, and then I’ll find the well again. I’ll find the Sisters. I”ll come to Chess and find you. But I...I can’t just leave her.” “Fine, but if you go, I go.” Jest was insistent. “No, Jest. If you’re there, I won’t be able to think of anything but that awful picture. I need to know you’re safe. Or….fine. You stay here and wait for me. Don’t go through to Chess yet, just wait and stay safe and I’ll come back. I will come back.” “I can’t--” She cut him off with a kiss that toppled his hat right off of his head. He drew her in closer, and she knew...she would do anything to have not heard that scream. To not have any love left in her for Mary Ann. But she did...so she had to save her, if she could. “You won’t come back.” Hatta’s words cut through her, through their kiss. It couldn’t be their last. It wasn’t good-bye. It never could be. They were inevitable. “Have you ever stayed after you heard the Sisters’ prophecy?” “Never.” “Then how could you possibly know it’s real? How could you possibly know what will or won’t happen?” She turned to Jest, lifting his palm to her lips and pressing a kiss right in the center, “Stay here. Wait for me.” ~~ Cath had never seen such nonsense as talking pumpkins, and it was eerie all on its own. Their warnings sent a chill right to her bones, but Peter had found them. Ax in hand, he bared down on her, searching her for a sword that she didn’t even have. Then, the appearance of a scepter, that shout. “Let her go!” No. No. Jest couldn’t be here. He couldn’t have followed her. He should have never. Damn him for not listening. As she watched him battle with Peter, hope sparked in her chest when it seemed like the fight was on Jest’s side. With the appearance of Raven, as unsettling as it made her, Jest’s reassurances ...that he only looked threatening because he used to be an executioner for the White Queen made her hopeful. Maybe it wasn’t what she thought. She pleaded with him to save Mary Ann. That was the reason they had come back, right? She had left for Mary Ann, and they had followed her. If they could not save her, then this was all for naught anyway. Though he had hesitated, when he agreed, Cath was free to focus on other things...things like Jest’s fight with Peter which no longer seemed to be going as well as she would have liked. Her gaze dropped to Jest’s hat, which had fallen from his head in the midst of the fight. She thought of the sword, her heart pounding in her chest. Peter wasn’t making any sense, but she knew...she needed that sword. Jest needed the sword. He could protect himself against Peter with it. She slopped through the mud trying to get to it, and a piercing shriek filled the air. ~~ The Jabberwock was horrible. It had been injured from their last foray, but the eye had healed. It seemed only to have eyes for Cath. Hatta had appeared now, too, and had scooped up the hat, but all he was pulling from it were jester’s jokes, “It has to be you! It only answers to royalty, love.” “But I’m not…” He tossed the hat to her anyway, the Jabberwock still too close for comfort. Her skirts were ripped from its initial swipe, and she did not know if she would be so lucky to escape injury again. Peter screamed, and it distracted the Jabberwock just long enough. She dove for the hat, reaching her arm inside and...just as before, she retrieved the vorpal sword. It gleamed in the evening light, and the Jabberwock’s eyes were on her. Only her. Jest was still alive...dazed, but alive. An argument had broken out between Hatta and Peter. She listened to it all. The pumpkin seeds. Lady Peter. The Mock Turtle. The hats. The pumpkin cake...The Jabberwock. “You turned her into this! I destroyed those cursed pumpkins. She was getting better. But once she saw that cake she couldn’t stop eating it. And now she won’t change back. She’s my wife, and you did this to her!” “She’s a monster!” The Jabberwock gave a scream, teeth glinting in the light. But she didn’t dive for Cath. She dove for Hatta. He was going to die...the Jabberwock was going to kill him. Cath screamed and charged, swinging the sword. The blade made one fast, clean cut. The Jabberwock’s head rolled. She was stunned and horrified and relieved all at once. It was over. She sought out Jest, finally breathing again. They could leave here and continue on to Chess. Everything would be as it should have been. Jest looked both bewildered and proud, and it was a look she hoped to see for many years to come - for vastly different reasons. Peter was understandably anguished, but his wife...his wife had been gone for a long time already. She had become the Jabberwock. After a moment, he seemed to recover, and something sparked in his eyes. He looked at her with murderous intent. She readjusted her hold on the sword, her relief waning. He moved toward her, his body tense. “Please. This can end now. Just let us go.” Peter hesitated. For a moment, she was hopeful. Uncertain. She looked over her shoulder and saw Raven’s approach. Peter looked frightened then...indecisive. His hatred pierced to her very soul, and she could sense his desperation and resolve. He screamed and swung his ax. It happened before she even knew what had transpired. A scream tore from her throat, but it made no difference. Blood spattered on the ground. Like ink from a broken quill. Like a drawing made on stone. Raven chased. Cath did not breathe. She waited for the vision in front of her - something so impossible - to fade and turn right. It was not real. It couldn’t be. It was a nightmare. A terrible, awful drawing by odd, horrible little girls...come to life. Jest was dead. She took one step forward and collapsed to her knees. The sword fell. “Treacle...bring him treacle. Go! Hurry! Treacle will...treacle will…” “No, love. Nothing can save him,” Hatta sounded as broken, desolate, as she felt. “Don’t say that!” She dug her hands into the mud, though it just slipped through her fingers, “We have to save him! We have to -- Jest!” A hand brushed her hair from her forehead gently, and Mary Ann’s voice was coaxing, “Cath…” “Don’t touch me!” Cath tore away from her, a rage in her belly so hot that it would burn her to ash, “I came back for you! If you hadn’t come here, if you hadn’t gotten yourself caught, then we wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but for you!” She crawled forward, her skirt dragging in the mud, “There must be a way. Something we can do. Something in the hat that can save him, or...or...the Sisters. Fate. Time. There must be someone who can…” Her hand fell into something warm and wet...something that was not mud. Something that was all too real, “It’s impossible. He didn’t do anything -- he was innocent. He…” “You’re right. He was innocent,” Hatta agreed, “Martyrs usually are.” Mary Ann pulled her away from Jest’s body, and Cath was so numb that she barely felt her. That numbness began to fade as she peered out into the trees where Peter had disappeared. Her rage became a real thing. It was a pounding, shrieking, demanding beast that lived inside of her. She would kill Peter. She would find him and she would kill him. She would have his head. ~~ She plead with Time until her lips were chapped and her tongue was too dry to go on. She would spare the Jabberwock. She would let the beast have Mary Ann. She would listen to Hatta’s warnings and never enter the pumpkin patch. She would do anything. Marry any king. Wear any crown. Give her heart to anyone who asked for it. She would serve Time himself. If he would only bring Jest back. Her agony turned to fury. No bargaining had worked. Only the slightest bit of hope returned to her when Raven returned, but he could only tell her that Peter had gotten away. She fell to the floor, pain knocking into her all over again. Her rage split her open. ~~ The Sisters came to her, though she did not wish to see them. She openly blamed them, though they didn’t care for the accusation. “We cannot bring back the martyr, but we can bring you something else you want.” “What?” “Vengeance.” Peter had gotten away. He would come to the Sisters for help in his desperation. They would bring him to her. “What would you want from me?” “We are ill. We have been dying for a long time. We require payment to sustain us.” Lacie told her. "A heart could sustain us for a long time. A strong heart, full of passion and courage.” Elsie added. “We want the heart of a queen.” Tillie touched Cath’s collarbone. “I am not a queen.” Cath insisted. “Not yet.” “Everyone thinks I am hysterical and traumatized. The King will never have me now.” “Won’t he?” ~~ She brought him a key lime pie. Even when he tried to back out of her acceptance of his proposal, she seemed to know just the right things to say to get him to accept. She would bake him her delicacies. She would wed him within three days. She would do all the things she promised that she never would...the things that her heart could never bear. For vengeance, she would be the queen. Whatever emotions that had once held her back, she no longer felt them. There was nothing else. Nothing left. She was to be the Queen of Hearts. ~~ “Soon,” she whispered to Raven. “Soon.” He was the only one that she had told of the deal she struck with the Sisters. He had not tried to talk her out of it. His yearning for vengeance was just as deep as her own. She was cold to those who had once cared for her. She did not ask Mary Ann to stay on as her maid at the castle. It had taken everything in her not to tell her that she should have been the one to die. It just wasn’t very queenly...and she wasn’t queen yet. Even Cheshire, who reminded her that there was a time that she overflowed with whimsy and powdered sugar, infuriated her. An empty threat from an empty girl. She was empty, but she was no longer a fool. Her threats were anything but empty. She gave the decree for all white roses to be removed from the gardens. If they were to plant roses at all, they would only be red. She could not bear the reminder. Jest would not be bringing her any more white roses. She would never set eyes on another as long as she lived. Her parents arrived, and Raven dug his talons into Cath’s shoulder. “Oh, my sweet girl. You are a beautiful bride,” the Marchioness said, haltingly. “Are you sure?” Cath asked cooly, still livid over the other slights that had accumulated to quickly over the last few minutes, “Look again. You might find that I actually resemble a walrus.” “What do you mean?” her mother asked, shocked. “Nothing at all.” “Catherine,” the Marquess placed his hand on the shoulder where Raven was not perched, “We know you’ve been through some...difficult things recently. But we want you to be sure...absolutely sure that this is what you want. We want you to be happy. That’s all we’ve ever wanted. Is this what’s going to make you happy?” Anger bubbled, turning her vision white hot. She held her father’s gaze even as she focused on Raven’s talons, the weight of the rubies around her throat, and the heaviness of her dress. “How different everything could have been, if you had thought to ask me that before.” ~~ The moment was finally there. She stood quickly as the Sisters arrived, Peter in tow. “We had a bargain.” “We made a deal.” “We have come to take our toll.” The King stammered, uncertain what was going on, demanding to know what was going on. “That is Sir Peter.” The name tasted like iron in her mouth. The sisters announced themselves as living in a well, ill as they were. Dying, for a long time. “But they knew that one day there would be a queen who would have a heart she had no use for. Such a heart could sustain them.” “That queen is here. That time is now.” “We have brought your vengeance, and we shall have your heart in return.” “Take it,” Cath offered, her eyes not leaving Peter, “As you said, I have no use for it.” She was certain that it was a horrible spectacle. The Sisters climbed up the Queen’s box, jagged dagger in hand...and plunged it into her chest. Though she gasped, the cold seeped from the blade and into her. It was so cold that it burned. When Lacie pulled the blade back, a beating heart was skewered on the end. It was broken, cut almost clean in half by a blackened fissure that was filled with dust and ash. “It has been bought and paid for.” The sisters left...happy with their prize. Cath felt better than she had in so long. She no longer hurt. That broken heart had been killing her, and it was gone. Her sorrow. Her loss. Her pain...it was all gone. All that was left was the rage and the fury and the desperate need for vengeance that would soon be hers. “W-what happened?” her husband, the King demanded. “They freed me. They fulfilled their promise,” Cath regarded Peter Peter, studying him. “But...your heart…” the King started. “Was no longer useful to me, and I am most pleased with what they brought me in return. This man is the murderer of the late court joker of Hearts. He cut off his head, then fled into the forest. He is a killer.” Of course, it couldn’t be as simple as Cath wanted it to be. Her idiot of a King thought a trial sounded like excellent fun. Peter put forth his own accusations. They were both murderers, in a way. But his wife had been the Jabberwock, and Jest...Jest had been impossible and hers. Hearts was a silly kingdom full of ridiculous subjects. The most ridiculous of them were the King and the rest of his court. They were more concerned with parties than justice, and she would not let them take her vengeance from her. They found him not guilty. She would not stand for it. ”SILENCE!” The cheers stopped. All turned to gape at her, but she did not care, “I reject the jury’s verdict. As the Queen of Hearts, I declare this man guilty. Guilty of murder. Guilty of thievery and kidnapping and all the rest, and for his sentence -- I call for his head. To be carried out immediately!” The entire courtroom was stricken, but Catherine only had eyes for Peter Peter. She was numb. Finally, numb, “You deserve no mercy.” “I want nothin’ from you.” He spat at her feet. “B-b-but, darling,” the King protested, soft and terrified, “We...we have never...in Hearts, we don’t...why, Sweetness, we don’t even have an executioner.” Her mouth twitched into a small smile. Her gaze shifted to Raven...her most loyal and constant companion. The only one in the world who understood what she had become, “Yes, we do.” He lifted his head. “You were the White Queen’s executioner, and now you will be mine. Serve me dutifully and we shall both have our vengeance.” He was silent for a long while...still. He spread his wings, stepping off of the railing. Like an ink spill, he transformed into the hooded figure. His face was in shadow, his gloved hands gripping the handle of a glinting ax. “For the murder of Jest, the court joker of Hearts, I sentence this man to death,” she spoke without feeling, unburdened by love or dreams or the pain of a broken heart. It was a new day in Hearts, and she was the Queen. “Off with his head.” |