A Place Where Daydreams Come True

Sure, maybe it was cruel how you would get close, but never quite let them in. Using sharp words to keep them at a distance, even if they knew you cared. It was a lesson you had learned a long time ago. Why would you ever trust anyone again? After all, it had been someone in your own so-called family from before who had sold you to the lab. Luckily, Bruce had helped you find a real one. One you had been ignoring for the past week, barely even sparing them a few minutes. Everyone had noticed, especially Duke. Usually, the two of you were always together, but you had been avoiding him like the plague until the effects of the pollen could wear off. Alfred brought by more heating packs and blankets each night, monitoring your temperature and pain levels, but never tried to pry into your feelings. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Bruce either, which was a relief. Although, knowing Alfred, he was probably trying to get you to bring it up on your own or have Bruce actually talk about feelings for once. Good luck with either of those! 

As much as the pollen’s increasing effects made you want to hold onto someone, to feel a bit human again, a stronger force made your skin crawl at the idea. Getting close felt suffocating. 

Those years in the lab had left you with scars that ran deeper than skin, after being left alone for days at a time in that cold cell. When being alone was all you knew, presence felt strange. At least you didn’t flinch anymore when someone entered a room, as you had when you first arrived at the manor. Those days had been hard on everyone, when you would kick and scream, trying to fight Bruce or anyone else who tried to help. 

The last week had only opened those wounds again, with Ivy’s constant attacks of the cuddle pollen. Now the data center on top of it? Maybe not in the top ten of worst weeks of your life, but definitely the most annoying. Over the past week, you had done enough research to realize how messed up the CEO was. Chase Hastings, as his name was, had built several in the past year or two, forcing towns to sell their homes and shortening water supplies. The company was planning to launch a new AI system soon, and had no plans of stopping, apparently. Good thing you had done some digging and found a few other secrets he was keeping. 

A buzz in your phone pocket caught your attention; you noticed Cassandra, Duke, and Damian had texted you. Glancing, you noticed something about the AI, but ignored it for now. Probably about the results of the meeting. Thinking about any of them too long made the ache from the pollen worse, plus you were too angry to think. Shoving your things into your bag, you stormed out of the lecture hall into the busy hallways, moving like a thunder cloud past everyone. A few whispers followed you as you went by, everyone’s eyes on you. Odd. 

As a Wayne, you were used to your fair share of attention in Gotham, even if Bruce had put in the effort to keep as much of your identity a secret, along with Duke. Not to mention, you were the least favorite of the Waynes in the public eye, due to your sharp tongue and lack of respect for the rules of the upper class. The media considered you the worst in appearance as well. Honestly, you were pretty enough for most standards, but when you were standing next to a family who all looked like supermodels, it tended to dim your shine. 

You had heard all the rumors and read all the mean comments before, but it was when you caught your name from a nearby study room that you paused for a moment. A few of your classmates from Statistics class were inside studying, not noticing you by the doorframe. Quickly, you pressed your back to the wall outside, out of sight, and listened in. 

“I always knew she was grumpy. I mean, did you see her just now?”

“Definitely has some sort of anger issues. Feel bad for anyone who has to be near her. Now she adds being a nepo baby on top?” 

“What are you talking about?” One of them asked curiously. “Is her family alumni or something?” 

“What, you didn’t know? She’s one of the Waynes!” They exclaimed. “As in Bruce Wayne.”

“Seriously?”

“Not even one of the kids he sponsors either. The man adopted her. She’s an heiress or something.”

One snickered, “Think she’d have a better sense of style with a designer wardrobe.” 

“Do you think her dad buys her grades too?” Another voice asked, an edge to their tone. 

“No, I’ve seen her in my math class,” a girl added quietly. “She gets nearly every answer right. You can’t fake intelligence. The awards she gets are legit.”

“So what?” one snapped. “My brother wanted to get that internship! It’s wrong!”

Wait…what were they talking about? Did everyone actually dislike you that much here? Sure, you hadn’t had any luck in the friend department so far, but your classmates seemed nice enough to you. What changed? 

Right now you didn’t have time to care, even if the words stung. Yes, Bruce spoiled you, but you had also once been in a home where you had to worry about affording the next doctor’s appointment or cut back on gas. Your life hasn’t always been perfect, after all. Pushing off the wall, you turned, accidentally bumping into a guy. “Watch out b-” he began, scowling at you. 

“Finish that sentence, and you’ll see how much of one I am,” you huffed, settling a glare on him. A hint of fear filled his eyes; then he rushed past you, practically running down the hall.  Good, he should run.

Now back to whatever it was your classmates had been on about. Opening your phone, you were flooded with more texts from the family group chat. 

Duke: GUYS YOU NEED TO WATCH THIS

A video was attached. Tapping it, it played a video someone had recorded at a cafe of Tim hitting Bernard. Wait? What?! Tim would never do that! He loved Bernard!  Looking closer, there was something off about it, and the realization made your gut twist. It was an AI video. In the corner, the name brand hid the AI company. The very one trying to build the data center. Scrolling down, you were bombarded with one after another. A video of Dick saying mean things during an interview. Damian yelling at a waiter and throwing a tantrum like a spoiled brat. Cassandra tripping on her dress at a gala, then being rude to a photographer. A fake conference where Bruce had announced he would be using company funds to get rid of a homeless shelter. Everywhere, the #canceltheWaynes followed. 

How could people be falling for this? It was obviously all fake footage! Finally, you saw your own face, or at least an AI wearing it. The video was grainy, as if it had been taken from security cams of you in Bruce’s office at the company. It was so realistic, you would never have been able to tell it was generated, except for the fact that you had no memory of this meeting. 

Fake you asked in a voice that sounded eerily like yourself, “So did you do what I asked?” The voice was way too snobbish for your own.

Not - Bruce replied, “Yes, I’ve talked with the boards, and you’ll get the internship. Unfortunately, it will leave me no choice but to cut out a few others’ internships.”

Fake you stood up, shouting, “It’s what I deserve! I'm Wayne! I’m owed this job!” She slammed her hand down on the desk, throwing papers at him. “Any job at Wayne Enterprises belongs to me before anyone else.”

The screen went dark. Your fingers curled around the phone, hand shaking. Chase crossed a line this time. One he could not go back from. Messing with you was one thing, but hurting your family was another. 

Obviously, he was upset about Wayne Enterprises' deal and had targeted this. Specifically, at you, since your name was on the proposal to buy out the data center project. 

Jason: Have you seen the one of Batman doing Fortnite dances? It is kinda funny You: JASON THIS IS SERIOUS! Jason: Okay fineeee. Sure I can't kill this guy? Tim: Jason, NO! Damian: Clearly this was an attack Tim: This is so screwed up! Bernard is so upset. People are DM-ing him telling him to break up with me! Cassandra: I’m not mean  Dick: Of course you’re not, Cass. Everyone knows that. This is a smear campaign.  You: I’m sorry about this. It’s my fault. I’ll fix it.

More messages popped up, reassuring it wasn’t your fault, but right now it was up to you to fix this. A plan began forming in your mind. All you needed was to buy some time before the company could break ground, then WE could manage to find a deal to persuade Hastings. By now, there would already be construction equipment ready to go to break ground in the field. If you could just remove a few parts without being noticed, then they would have to delay until the replacements arrive. Of course, it would give you some time, but it wouldn’t guarantee the CEO would change his mind, which is why you had to use some leverage. Blackmail. 

Alfred had taught you one thing in chess. An opponent will always be two steps ahead, so be three steps ahead of them. 

According to Barbara, Chase had replaced hundreds of workers with some of his AI bots, then was pocketing their salaries while forging the company’s accounts. Wouldn’t it be terrible if someone were to leak this information to the public? As well as all the people he had laid off for no reason? If he didn’t agree to stop the data center, or those humiliating videos, you would release the files.  

Checkmate. 

As soon as you got back, you dropped your bag and made your way up the grand staircase towards the library, where Bruce’s office was. Besides the library itself, it was your favorite part of the manor, where all the rare books were and it was one of the oldest parts of the property. Dusty wooden shelves lined the room, with a large round window overlooking the grounds. When you had first arrived, Bruce had found you hiding in there, simply reading by the window. It was quieter there. Plus, it was hidden behind a hidden door, and who didn’t enjoy hidden doors? Only boring people. 

Bursting into Bruce’s office, you asked, “Did you see the videos?” By the stone expression on his face, he had. 

“Yes, I’ve seen them.” he rested his elbows on the desk, voice tight. “I already have Wayne Enterprise’s PR team on top of it. Scandals are not anything new for me, of course, but I never predicted AI would be a factor one day. Chase should have targeted this at the company, not my children.”

A fist formed a moment before he unclenched it. In the past, you would have flinched, expecting a hit, just like your father did before Bruce adopted you.

His features softened, only a fraction. “I wanted to wait until you got home to break the news to you about the rumors so you would hear it from me first.” 

Wow, that was weirdly emotionally aware for him. Sort of hard to be mad at him when he was. 

“I’ll make sure to make it clear to the press that while you do have family privileges in the company, I hire based on skill, no matter what,” he went on. “I’ll put a stop to this.” 

Taking a seat on the chair across from him, you slumped into it with a sigh. “How could Hastings do this? Obviously, it’s just to make up fake rumors about us! Wouldn’t that make him look worse in the end?”

“Usually, people pay more attention to whatever is the most entertaining, even if it’s not true,” he responded. “Eventually, they always blow over until a new one shows up. I had hoped you would never have to be involved.” 

“Idiots,” you muttered. “How could he be so petty as to make stupid rumors just because of a business deal?” 

“Chase has always been more impulsive,” Bruce said. “Not thinking in the long term. It’s why we cut ties with his company years ago.” 

“Obviously!” you exclaimed. “Impulsive is making data centers that are going to get rid of all your water. Which I guess a lot of companies are right now, even LexCorp.” 

Changing the subject, he asked. “Any updates on where Ivy may be hiding?”

“No. Babs has been keeping an eye out. Nothing yet, and Tim only found some evidence near the botanical gardens, which can’t be any good.  I’m sure Harley knows, but there’s no use in asking. She won’t snitch on Ivy,” you explained. “My studies have been too busy to check in with the leads.”

 A lie. All the time you had been spending in your room, avoiding everyone, was for “studies.” Bruce raised an eyebrow. Had he picked up on the lie? After all, lying to Batman wasn’t an easy task. 

Instead of mentioning anything, he went on, “I’ll have Duke and Damian speak with the botanical gardens today to see if they sighted her. How have you been handling the pollen exposure? Any signs of effects, or is immunity still likely?” he asked with what you could have sworn was a hint of worry underneath it all. No, it was just trying to gather information on the case. When there was a big one, it was all he could focus on. Nothing more. 

“I’m fine,” you lied through your teeth. Another lie. Right now, you were still cold from the pollen from last night’s fight despite taking two showers.  

How many more would you tell? They were already growing tangled, knotting together into thorny vines. All you wanted to do right now was curl up in bed with more heat packs. Another part of you wished Bruce would be everything he wasn’t. To act like a normal father, who would say something comforting rather than give some sort of vague advice about justice or whatever. To actually say he was proud of you for once instead of a slight nod of approval when you worked non-stop to keep your grades up and protect Gotham while falling apart. 

Probably the pollen talking. Usually, you were satisfied with Bruce’s parenting. After all, he was somehow more involved in your life than your previous father had been. Anyone was better than the people in the lab. 

When you spend your life without being served any love, you’ll risk taking it off a knife. 

Quietly, you added, “I think I understand Ivy a bit more.” 

A shadow seemed to pass over his face as he stood up straighter. “Anyone can sympathize with Ivy’s motivations, even myself, but we can’t agree with her methods. We do things the way we do for a reason,” he said in a stern tone. 

You knew the code all of you lived by, but a restlessness stirred in you. “Do you ever consider finding justice in other ways?” you asked hesitantly. “If we took things a little farther, then maybe we could stop things for good.”

For a moment, all he could see was Jason.

Seeing Jason become Red Hood after his resurrection was painful. Not because it went against everything he believed in. Of course, that was always the center of their conflicts, although it had very little to do with why he struggled to accept Red Hood. It was because he had to watch the sweet little boy he had once raised twist into an angry, hurting stranger. Jason’s body may have been resurrected, but he wasn’t the same person anymore. 

Afterward, he swore he would make sure nobody went down the same path. From the moment Bruce had found you in that lab, he recognized the anger you carried around. A temper he had seen before. Yet, beneath it all, he saw your refusal to become the weapon they had created, and that’s when he knew he couldn’t abandon you, as much as he wanted to avoid the risk of raising another. There was also no avoiding your becoming a vigilante either. You had the heart for it. So, he needed to find the words to stop this. Unfortunately, he was never good with those and went with the driest response possible. 

Bruce narrowed his gaze. “Consequences need to be considered. Risks to access,” he replied. “Revenge and getting justice are not the same thing.” 

“What if-”

“No,” he cut you off. “It’s not what we do.” Frustrated, you got up from your seat and turned towards the door, ready to slam it behind you. Bruce watched as you were about to leave, his mind racing with what to say. 

You paused for a moment when he added, “I won’t always agree with everything you do, but the manor is always here. You’re my daughter. That’s final.” 

Daughter. You froze. The title had never been addressed outside of legal and formal situations. On paper, you were his daughter. At galas, he introduced you as his daughter and heir. Yet, in the back of your mind, you wondered if he saw you that way beyond words on a document. After all, you hadn’t called him Dad directly except for one time when you had been seriously injured. Always Bruce, or B. The pollen must be really messing with your head, because as stubborn as you were, you wanted to turn around and call him Dad right now.

Instead, you lied, “I’ll be going out with some friends tonight.” 

A lie within a bigger lie. While at the Academy, many people bullied you, which worried the others a bit. After starting Gotham University, you made up a group of friends to put everyone at ease and “went out” with them often. Going out usually consisted of getting ice cream alone at Batburger. 

“Fine,” Bruce sighed. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll have Tim cover your patrol tonight.”

Guess you had gotten better at lying, just like your mom.

10 years ago…

“The move to Gotham will be best for us! It’s a new start!” your mother beamed as the two of you drove down the highway, late at night. Boxes and bags were piled high in the trunk, which had been secretly loaded over the past few weeks. 

A lie. Well, a lie wrapped in a truth. Leaving for Gotham would be a new start. Anything was better than living with your father any longer. The very reason you had to leave was because of another lie your mother had been telling for years. A living lie. Yourself. 

During the 3rd grade, you had flung a rock at a boy after catching him trying to hurt an injured sparrow, terrifying him so much that he left it alone. Except you hadn’t thrown it. Rather, it hovered and went flying toward him the angrier you got. The principal brushed it off as childish imagination when he insisted the rock floated in thin air, but the nickname “witch” stuck with your tormentors for years after. No matter how fake it seemed, your mother knew and got you tested as a metahuman right away. 

“Don’t worry, the tests came back negative.” Another lie. One to protect you. While the world now saw many metahumans as heroes, a few still harbored hatred for anything different. An enemy to the human legacy, and unnatural. The most extreme of these called for getting rid of all metahumans. Your father, the one before Bruce who had been married to your mother,  had been one of those people. 

Every day, you had to endure his hateful words in silence and bite your tongue. Suppress your powers. A stubborn part of you wanted to show him. To yell at him and say, “Look! You created the very thing you hate!” Yet, you kept quiet until the moment arrived to leave. Living in that home felt like being a bird, trapped in a gilded cage. 

Years later, you would wonder if it had been him who tipped off the mob group that sold you to the lab, even if there was no evidence of it. 

So, yes, living in Gotham would be better, but it was still Gotham. Everyone knew it was full of crime, with killer clowns or thieves making headlines on the daily. It would be a place nobody would think to look. Your mother had found an old townhouse for the two of you to live in, with the dusty studio apartment above to be your room, all to yourself. As nice as it was, you would still miss the stars you could see at your old home. Here, the city lights drowned even the brightest of them out. At least the vigilantes were there. Maybe if you were lucky, you would catch a glimpse of Nightwing or Batgirl one day, just like the people in the comics you read!

Months passed, and you never saw any vigilantes, but at least you could breathe here. As your mother put away a few groceries, you were busy focusing on homework in your room. Getting A’s was the least you could do for her after all she had sacrificed. A knock at the door tore you from the math problem. 

“Pizza must be early,” you heard your mother say from downstairs, going for the door. 

“Hey!” you called down. “Do you think we could watch a movie tonight? Maybe that one about Superman?” 

“Sure!” she shouted back, then grew quiet. A few minutes passed by. By now, the pizza would be here, and she would have called you down. Immediately, you bounded down the stairs, a bad feeling in your gut. When you reached the kitchen, you found your father standing there, anger written across his face. Shouts followed, and you froze mid-step. 

How? How could he have found you? The next few moments went by in a blur when you saw him raise a fist at your mother. No, you didn’t even hesitate. Running, you stood between him and your mother, snatching his wrist mid-air. His eyes widened in shock, as if he had expected you to stay quiet, as always. 

“No,” you said, voice quivering with anger. “You don’t get to do this anymore.” A rage you had kept buried for long crept up, making its way to the surface. Objects began floating around the room, hovering in his direction. He stepped back, letting go of you with a mix of hatred and confusion.

Quickly, your mother grabbed you, shielding you close. 

“She’s…she’s a-” he stuttered, looking around. “I never asked for a freak for a daughter! Didn’t want one of them!”

“Leave!” you screamed. “Get out of here and don’t come back.” He paused. “Leave!” you shouted, raising your voice higher. Fear filled his eyes, and it sent a sense of satisfaction over you that you had never felt before. For once, he was the one who got to be afraid. Not you. 

Turning, he left and slammed the door behind him. Your mother rushed over and locked it before turning to you, eyes misty.

Taking your shoulders, she stared at you as she pleaded, “Promise me one day you’ll take care of yourself. Don’t end up like me. Save yourself and don’t wait for anyone else to.” Her fingers dug into your shoulders, tightening a bit. 

All you could do was stare. The silence seemed to bother her. 

 “People like in your comics aren’t real!” she shouted, then managed to soften her voice a bit.  “Nobody comes to save you. Save yourself. Promise me you will, please!” she begged. “Don’t end up like me.” 

“I will,” you promised. A vow you kept from then on. 

Present…

“Where is it?” you mumbled to yourself as you rummaged around underneath the mattress, looking for your suit. Alfred was always annoyed that you kept it hidden there, and Tim insisted it was an identity risk, but keeping it outside the cave was perfect for tonight’s like tonight. Contacting Ivy wasn’t an issue, since you asked Barbara to find it, claiming it would help with tracking her down, and Ivy had agreed quickly since she was more than eager to get her hands on Hastings. 

“Perhaps this is what you’re looking for?” Alfred asked from the doorway, startling you and nearly making you fall backward. Quickly, you put on a normal face. “I’m just looking for a bracelet I lost, is all,” you said in the most convincing tone you could manage, until your eyes landed on the freshly washed and pressed suit folded in his hands at the top of a pile of laundry. No use in lying now. Not that there ever was with Alfred. 

“Fine, I was,” you admitted. “I’ll fold it better from now on.” 

“Considering it is a state-of-the-art suit, I would suggest taking better care of it,” he huffed, placing it on the dresser. “There’s room in the Cave, and I should hope you are more responsible than to hide things.” 

“I’m not hiding anything,” you said, crossing your arms. “At least, nothing more than the usual secret identity stuff.” 

“I suppose not, considering you’ll be busy with your friends tonight,” he noted with a raised eyebrow, and you knew what he was getting at. Bruce must have mentioned you would be going out tonight. Alfred was the only one who knew the friends were made up since you had often confided in him, or more like vented, about how others avoided you on campus, so he had caught you up in your lies.  

“Please don’t tell Bruce,” you asked. No use in trying to hide anything from Alfred. Years of practice made him an expert in knowing exactly when someone was up to something. 

“It’s not my place to tell,” he said. “Now, considering I have been washing pollen out of clothes all week, the least you could do is join me in the garden to help weed the rose bushes. Besides, I think you need to ‘touch grass.’ You’ve been hiding in your room all week.” 

Okay, so now he was guilt-tripping. Admittedly, you were easy when it came to chores. Sitting back and watching someone else constantly clean up your messes was the one part of being rich you could never get used to. 

“I should never have taught you slang,” you sighed, reluctantly following behind. 

A few moments later, your fingers were deep in the cool soil, dirt underneath your fingertips. The breeze carried a light scent of flowers, mingling with the smell of the rich soil.  While you weren’t exactly a fan of the dirt, you didn’t mind it either. Carefully, you wove your hand between the thorns, trying to avoid getting scratched. They were the trickiest part of working with roses, but it was worth it. 

Spending time in the manor’s gardens with Alfred was always peaceful as the two of you worked side by side wordlessly as he worked at the rose bush next to you with his gardening hat on. It was strange seeing the butler in anything but a suit for once. 

When you needed advice, he would give it, or an ear if you just wanted to vent, but the best part about gardening was the quiet. Living in a manor full of vigilantes coming and going, or siblings arguing, left very few moments for silence. Nobody visited the gardens often, and at one point, Bruce considered closing it away for good. 

After particularly long weeks, the two of you would work for hours saying nothing to one another until the weeds had all been plucked. 

Today, however, you were in the mood to chat. 

Tugging at a particularly stubborn weed, you said, “So that was what the argument was about.” 

“I can assure you that Master Bruce has had the same thoughts many times in the past,” Alfred said. “Eventually, he figures it out. Perhaps consider why you feel that way now.” 

“I just want to stop all this,” you answered. “To fix the world’s problems caused by people like Hastings and put an end to all this.”

Alfred held out a gloved hand, silently asking for the trowel as you handed it to him. “Why, I never knew you thought so highly of yourself, Miss,” he said with an air of sarcasm. “I thought you were more humble than that.” 

“Excuse me?” you asked, caught off guard, and stared at him.  

“Your job is to protect the city. Did you truly think you could solve all the world’s problems?” he questioned. “This family has been defending it for years, and bad things still happen. The Justice League may have saved the world quite a few times, but even they can’t solve every problem in the world.” 

Carefully, he trimmed around the base of one of the bush’s branches, inspecting the bright red petals. “Every year, a few of these roses wilt, no matter how much I care for them. Rather than focus on the ones I lose, I focus on which ones bloomed.” 

Okay, so you got the point he was getting at, but it didn’t make you any less frustrated. 

“What about all the AI videos?” you countered, finally pulling the weed out with one strong tug. “Am I supposed to ignore that?” 

“I have seen your father face much worse rumors, and they always go away eventually,” Alfred said. “Although I do hope whatever you have planned ends with Hastings getting his bloody arse kicked.”

“Alfred!” you exclaimed in shock. Honestly, you didn’t know he even knew any bad words, as ridiculous as it seemed. 

Standing up, he brushed the dirt off his clothes and replied. “I may know etiquette, but that doesn’t mean I’m above using language when needed. Now I think I will go get us some refreshments. Lemonade?” 

As he turned to get the tray, he stopped a moment, staring at the roses growing on the garden’s walls. Last year, you had discovered them while exploring the grounds, petals dry and brown from wilting as they clung to the stone with what little they had left. For some reason, the flowers had bothered you, so you did some research and found a way to bring them back to normal. Now they had nearly doubled in size, petals bright with a dusty pink. 

 “My, that’s quite odd.” 

“What is?” you asked, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. 

“Those flowers haven’t bloomed in years,” he commented, almost astounded. “Master Bruce was very fond of them as a child, and I tried everything, but they’ve been dying more each year.” Quietly, he added, “Martha grew them.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you began. “I didn’t know. If I had, I would have left them alone.”

“No bother,” he interrupted, handing you a glass of the lemonade. “I’m sure she would be happy to know someone was caring for them. Mrs. Wayne did adore her roses very much.”

“Guess that means some wilted roses can bloom again,” you suggested. 

“Perhaps you’re right,” he nodded. “Maybe I focused so long on the successful bushes, I failed to consider the wilted ones.” 

Taglist open! Inbox open! Requests open!

Feedback always appreciated. Not sure how well this chapter turned out.

Remember, all flowers deserve sunlight, even the ones that have been kept in the dark. <3 Dream

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"It's not the 40s anymore, Steve. You would have to pay hundreds for a baseball game. It's boring anyway," you grumbled.

Steve rolled his eyes. "How about we get me caught up one some of those movies you mentioned? You know, so I can get more references?" Unfortunately, there was something about Steve's cheerful energy you couldn't resist.

An hour later, you were curled up under a blanket next to him, munching on a few snacks. Shifting, Steve tucked his arm a bit around your own, pulling you in a bit more with a comforting squeeze. Eventually, you leaned against his arm, enjoying the company. Maybe there was a bright side to this day.

Natasha:

Natasha found you sitting at your desk, a storm cloud practically hovering over you as you filled out reports.

"Come on, stop sulking. I've seen you face much worse than this," she scoffed, giving you a slight look of disapproval. "Tony said something mean, but when does he not?" "It was worse than that, and you know it!" you snapped back. "I'm tired of people saying I'm a waste to this team." There was a pain lingering under the anger. If it had been Yelena who was feeling this way....

"I'll admit, he was out of line this time. Idiot," she sighed. "You know what, follow me." She tugged your arm, practically dragging you to the training area as you protested. "Nat! I'm busy! I'm not in the mood to spar you right now."

"Come on, punch it," she nodded towards the punching bag. "It will make you feel better."

You gave a half-hearted punch. "I've seen you do better," she retorts before throwing a kick at you. It lands, throwing you off guard, before you stumble up, angrily, throwing a punch back. The two of you go back and forth until you're both exhausted, on the floor next to each other.

"Feel better now?" she asked, turning to smile at you.

"Okay, fine, you were right."

"Always am."

Tony Stark

"What's got you so sour?" Tony asked in an annoyed tone when he found you curled up on the couch of the break room.

The whole day had been one thing after another. Fury had yelled at you over the last mission during a meeting, you found out the rest of the team had forgotten to invite you to their night out yesterday, and your social media, which the PR team suggested, had been flooded with hate comments today. To top it all off, the store was out of your favorite ice cream!

"Oh, I don't know...everything!" you answered, matching his tone. "I'm having a bad day."

Tony shrugged, "So? We all have bad days. That's life."

"So says the billionaire," you scoffed, and rolled to face away from him. A few minutes of silence passed before Tony spoke up, "You know, I think I may be ready to trust you with my holographic design system."

The offer perked you right up, sitting with interest now. Tony knew you loved science as much as he did.

"Wait! You mean the one with unlimited 3D scaling?" you asked, almost excited.

"That's the one," he answered, heading towards his personal lab. "Are you coming or what?"

Thor:

When he finally found your room, he was shocked at the sight of you lying on your stomach, crying into a pillow in bed.

"What's wrong?" he asked in concern. "I've never seen a warrior such as yourself in tears. Who caused this?"

Embarrassed, you glanced away, not wanting Thor of all people to see you in this state. Nobody ever saw you cry for fear they would see a weakness, so you had been hiding in your room today.

"My hamster is sick," you choked out. "I left him at the vet, and I'm just so worried. Probably stupid." Thor took a seat beside you, handing you the corner of his cape as a tissue.

"It's not foolish," he responded. "Once, when I was younger, I had a horse fall in battle. A great steed. One of the strongest. I cried for days after, as if one of my fellow warriors had fallen. Even Loki felt sorry for me." A smile tugged at his lips. "Once, I remember when I was first learning to ride, I fell right off into a pile of mud in the stables."

A snort escaped you at the image. "The mighty Thor fell into mud?"

Thor nodded, laughing, "Yes, although it turned out not to be mud. Loki never let me live it down."

Despite yourself, you began laughing even more, unable to help yourself. The exact reaction he had hoped for. "Shall I tell you of the time I fell off a table at a feast? Or when my brother turned into a snake?" Thor laughed heartily.

For the rest of the afternoon, Thor recalled the funniest of stories from his long life, until you were too caught up in them to think about being sad.

Wanda Maximoff:

Once the chaos had settled, Wanda found you in your quarters staring at the wall blankly, the tears not quite falling past your lashes. If anyone knew that feeling, it was her. HYDRA had attempted to infiltrate the Tower today, targeting you.

"How are you doing?" she asked quietly, making you finally notice her.

"As good as you would think," you answered sarcastically, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Today sucked."

"Oh, draga," she whispered in that sweet tone only Wanda could muster, opening her arms a bit. Before you could even attempt to resist, she had pulled you into a hug.

"How about we watch your favorite show? Mh?" she suggested. "I'll bring down those cookies I made yesterday."

Next thing you knew, you were cozied up in a blanket next to her with your head on her shoulder. Wanda always laughed at even the worst of jokes in a show, and you couldn't help but smile a bit every time. Earlier, you had made pizza with her for dinner, which you both had finished off together. Finally, you felt yourself drifting off, a faint red glow above your head.

"Go to sleep," she muttered against your hair. "I'll keep any nightmares at bay."

Peter Parker:

When Peter slipped through the window of your room, he found you lying on the bed. "Hey, you would not believe the day I've had...wait, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you mumbled, even if you clearly weren't. "I just made myself look like an idiot today during patrol, and let a robber get away." Usually, when you felt down, you wanted to be left alone for a few days.

Peter scratched the back of his neck, "I know how that is. It sucks. I can go, if that what you want, to be alone. Yeah, I'll go-"

"Wait-" you said, just as he was about to swing out. "I don't mind, if you don't."

"No, I don't," he smiled a bit. "How about we work on that new Lego set?"

A few minutes later, the two of you were busy with thousands of pieces, which were slowly resembling the Millennium Falcon. "Hey, where's the extra long piece?" you asked when Peter suddenly spoke up.

"If you're ever, upset again, I always have Legos we can work on. Together."

"I'd love that."

Bucky Barnes:

"Wow, and people say I'm the grumpy one," Bucky muttered to himself when he found you with a storm cloud practically over your head.

"I heard that," you snapped, glaring at him.

"Right, forgot you have super hearing too, my bad," he huffed, taking a seat beside you. "Look, I get it, I know bad days. If anyone does, it's me, but holding on this long doesn't help. You haven't left your room in a week."

"It was my fault, what happened," you insisted. "Natasha got injured because of me I I screwed up the mission. "We all screw up. Some bigger than others," he replied, then tugged at your arm. "Come on, no more staying inside. Touch grass or whatever it is you guys say now."

"Noooo," you protested as he lifted you off the bed.

"Get your helmet," he said. "Let's take a ride."

An hour later, you were on the back of his bike, arms wrapped around his waist as the scenery passed by in a blur. The sunlight warmed your skin, and the wind made things feel a bit lighter. Okay, maybe he was right. You did need to get outside. Not that you would ever admit he was right.

Sam Wilson

Today should have been happy, spending time with Sam's relatives at a barbecue. It had been enough to even cheer Bucky up, who was currently chasing around Sam's nephews, but for some reason it only dug up old memories. Harsh ones.

"Stop with the fake smiling," Sam said, finding you by the water away from everyone else. "It's freaking me out."

"It's not fake," you insisted. Sam gave you an "are you serious?" kind of look.

"Come on, we've been flight partners for years now. I know when you're lying," he responded, crossing his arms. "Go on. Spill."

"My family wasn't like this," you gestured to the happy scene a few feet away. "A family barbecue was the sort of thing I would dread. Now that I'm here, it just doesn't feel right."

Sam stood there a moment beside you, thinking as he looked over the waters. "Wanna take the boat out?" he asked.

"Won't everyone notice you're gone?" you questioned.

"Now that Bucky's here, everyone is interested in asking him all sorts of questions," Sam shrugged. "They won't notice if we get away for an hour."

Quickly, the two of you were out on the water far away from the festivities. A calm finally settled over you as the light danced over the ripples, the sun lowering in the sky. Sam wrapped an arm around you, and for once, you leaned in. "Thanks, I needed this."

"Any time."

Loki

Going to Tony's gala had been a mistake. Why did you ever think those rich snobs would be nice, even if you had saved the world a few times? Now, you stood on the balcony, trying to ignore every hurtful word.

A voice called from behind, "Looks like I'm not the only one avoiding everyone." Great! Why did he have to be here?

"Loki, I don't have time to deal with you right now," you huffed. "Not in the mood."

Ignoring your words, he stood next to you a few feet away. "I never liked parties, either," he said. "Everyone was so dull back there, even for mortal standards. Feasts in Asgard were worse. Everyone only wanted to talk about my brother." With a fake laugh, he added, "Oh, they talked about me a lot, just with no good word to say."

"Is this some attempt to make me feel sorry for you?" you asked, glaring at him.

"No," he spared a glance at you. "An outcast can always recognize another. I must say, they were saying things more vile than I could come up with, comparing your appearances to Natasha's."

"Thanks," you rolled your eyes. "Rub it in. I get it. Asgardians being eternally beautiful and all. I know you think the same way as everyone else."

Loki grinned, only a bit, "I never said that either." Silence fell between the two of you again until a small glow caught the corner of your eye. A small butterfly landed on your hand before vanishing. More followed, flying circles around you, golden and blue.

"Did you make those?" you asked, staring up at them in wonder. Another landed on your extended finger, fluttering a bit.

"Thought they may brighten the mood a bit," he admitted. "Illusions, is all. Although that is the first time you've ever smiled near me, instead of being so murderous."

Before you could respond to the comment, he was gone, but the butterflies remained.

Tags @piouscoffeelover

“I’m late! I’m late!” Alistair rushed through the halls of the palace in a frenzy, hopping over a tapestry two servants were carrying towards the West Wing, “Oh, I’m going to be late!” 

Pulling out his pocket watch, he checked the time to see that it was a few seconds past 12:07, when you had specifically requested he arrive at 12:08 sharp. If there was one thing Alistair prided himself on more than being the most trusted advisor of the Queen and the head of the Red Kingdom’s spies, it was his ability to be on time—the “White Rabbit,” as he was called. Chaos was the sort of thing he thrived on, but he didn’t like for his own schedule to get out of control. The meticulous planning and ability to put things back into order kept him sane most days. After receiving the message, he could only expect the worst if he arrived a moment too late. 

Besides, everyone knew what happened the last time he was late…

The guards standing by, Heart and Ace, stepped aside, letting him through. Royal advisors get access to the Queen at all times. 

A large thud echoed off the walls of the Great Hall, bouncing off the pristine ceiling high windows onto the marble floor below as he burst through the double doors.

Ahead was the throne, standing center where once two thrones had sat side by side, where you sat in a rose-red gown, the crown atop your head. A ruby heart was embedded in the center of the golden ring, catching the sunlight. Alliistaire couldn’t help but stop in his tracks, staring a moment at the sight of you, making his heart leap.  A Queen with a broken heart, but who had not been broken. He didn’t believe anything could break you. 

You had ordered the removal of the King’s throne, unable to bear the sight of it any longer. Scratches were embedded in the wood from where you had dug your nails in. 

Instead, an executioner’s ax had replaced the King’s former spot, its sinister gleam catching the sunlight pouring in through the windows from the gardens outside. A sharp reminder of how much the court had changed since the King’s death, anger and suspicion now ruling instead.Once you had one of the biggest hearts of any person he had ever met, managing to melt the iciness of the former King’s. Yes, you had always been bold, with a temper and cunning,  but never heartless. After all, you had been the one to slay the beast which had cursed Wonderland as the prophecy foretold. It took a brave spirit to do so. 

Grief had broken that heart, twisting you into a shadow of the person he had once known. A Queen who ruled with anger and fear, letting suspicions dictate your every movement. No wonder, of course. 

It had been the White Queen, after all, who had poisoned the King in front of your very eyes during a peace meeting.  One you had once considered an ally, a friend. Years had passed since then. Due to Wonderland’s magic, you have not aged a day. A mortal given the gift of immortality. A reward for saving the land. 

Yet, dark shadows were under your eyes where crevices had formed at the corners, deepened from tears. Allistaire had never actually seen you cry before. You were too stubborn for that. A broken heart was painted on your cheek, smudged a bit. Once you had not cared for the paint the courts used, preferring to leave your face bare instead. Now you wake up early every morning to carefully draw hearts around your eyes. A way of making the court feel as if you were a part of Wonderland as much as they were. You were well aware many deemed you unworthy of the crown, and ever since the King’s death the throne had become unstable. Very few were truly loyal outside of your guard, but you would keep hold of it. The throne was yours as much as anyone else. Eyes always seemed to be watching you, looking for a slip-up. 

 Revenge is all you cared about now. Allistair couldn’t bring himself to blame you, but he still hated seeing what it had turned you into. So much has changed since the day he first found you tumbling out of the rabbit hole, a young woman who had been confused and from another world. Who would he be if he hadn’t guided you? 

A bitter edge tugged at your lip now, upturned in anger, replacing the smile you once had. Laughter had once filled the halls; now they echoed screams of anger. You stood tall, head held high with your shoulders back. Rage was set ablaze in your eyes, always burning behind them.

Realizing you hadn’t noticed him yet, he smoothed down his suit and dusted off a speck of dirt, checking his pocketwatch. Right on time. 

“I’m here, Your Majesty.” Alistair fell into a graceful bow, movements as elegant as ever, as if he hadn’t been panicking moments before, long white hair falling around his face. He lifted his chin only a fraction, his icy blue eyes, framed by pale lashes like frost on flowers, staring intently at his queen ahead, a signature smirk tugging at his lips.  

“What do you require today?” His white suit was in perfect condition, with only a small red pin on the collar to indicate he was a part of this court. The picture-perfect portrait of a royal advisor, well, except for the fluffy rabbit ears on his head. An unfortunate consequence of a prank potion some mean noble children had played on him as a child. Along with a craving for carrot cake. Not that it mattered much, for Wonderland was full of hybrids covered in feathers, fur, and fluff. 

“On time as always,” you said. “How is the state of the borders?” Right to business, as usual. You never cared for formalities and idle chatter. 

“I’m never late,” Alistair retorted with a smile, “And the borders are secure as ever. The Guard hasn’t had any trouble from the White Queen’s troops in weeks.” 

“Did you send my gift to the dear queen?” your lip upturned in a smirk, “I do hope she gets it by her birthday.” The thought of the gift made you smile for the first time this week: a handkerchief which belonged to the spy she had dared send to your court. In reality, the spy was down in the dungeons awaiting an interrogation. As much as you had wanted to get rid of him, the information he had would be too valuable to waste on an execution. Although the White Queen would not know he was still alive. 

“Of course. I made sure my spies had it delivered right to her doorstep,” Alistair assured, “I’m sure you’ll be receiving a message soon enough about her…gratitude.” 

If only the troops would be ready in time, that is. As a royal advisor, Alistair had tried to warn you of the risks and the logistics of what a war could bring to the Red Kingdom. That even with the new reinforcements, the White Queen always had a larger army. It could be a gamble they couldn’t afford in the end. The White Queen rarely went to war, so hopefully he could finish negotiating the peace treaty before your constant threats finally incited her to. 

Yet, as costly as a war could be, it wasn’t as if he could blame you either. The White Queen had been sending spies over for months, trying to sneak past borders and steal information from the Red Kingdom. If killing the king wasn’t enough, she was practically begging for a war, but why? It was the question that bothered him most of all. Even by Wonderland standards, there was no rhyme or reason for war. It was like a riddle wrapped in reason. Senseless! 

For centuries now, the Red Kingdom and White Kingdom had been at odds with one another, raging war after war. Eventually, during the former King and Queen’s reign, peace had been achieved for the sake of the innocents involved, but the tension never died. 

“Loyal as ever,” you sighed, “I’m so glad I still have you to trust…you’re the only one I have left, my dear friend.” 

“And I always will be,” Alistair smiled back, gaze softening. That word, friend, was enough to make him throw all his arguments out the window and fulfill any order you gave. Pathetic, honestly, but he didn’t care. Loyal to a fault, as many said. The sight of his smile made you feel a bit of warmth, the kind your friend had always brought, even during these cold years. 

As a spymaster, he was used to keeping secrets, but he was harboring a very dangerous one - feelings for the Queen. If he was honest with himself, he had fallen for you when you fell on him- literally. When you tumbled through his rabbit hole, you had fallen right on top of him, and he fell for you. Fell hard. As hard as tumbling down a rabbit hole headfirst into a stone. 

 When you met Rowan, the King, no matter how much the two of you hated each other, he could see beyond the surface. There was no use in getting in the way of your happiness, so he chose to be a friend when you needed it most. If anyone had the spirit of a Queen, it was you. Letting go was the best for Wonderland, as well as for you. A King could give you a kingdom along with his heart, but all he could offer was himself. 

When you were crowned Queen, things only got more complicated. Having feelings for any royal was considered treason by Wonderland society, even if they were widowed. You had created new laws which allowed anyone to marry, no matter rank, so he wasn’t concerned with punishment any longer. Wonderland may disapprove, but they couldn’t argue with the word of the Queen.  

It just felt so cruel, so wrong, since you were still mourning the king. Quite a few years had passed, but he couldn’t push you in such a way. The last thing he could handle was ruining your friendship. 

So he would continue to watch from afar, as always. 

Finally, he shook himself from his thoughts. “May I ask why you called for me so suddenly, Your Majesty?” Allistair took a step closer when he felt his boot step in something almost like a puddle. Glancing down, he noticed a puddle of red blooming on the marble floor. Horror seized him, nearly taking his breath away. He had been so distracted by you, he hadn’t even noticed. 

No, not again. 

“Oh, I needed you to help advise me on a matter,” you responded, leaning back a bit in the throne. “I’m unsure what punishment would be worthy for a crime against me.” 

Clearing his throat, he asked carefully, “Do I need to ask the cleaners to get rid of this stain? Of…what exactly?”

“The servants spilled some paint I requested earlier,” you explained. “I needed a lot of red and the whole bucket dumped all over the floor. I’ll have it washed later.”

Relief flooded him at the answer. Paint, it was just paint, which was a good sign. You had barely picked up a brush since Rowan’s death, so that was progress. 

“And what did you need my advice on?” he questioned. 

“Guards!” you shouted, voice echoing down the halls. “Bring him in!”

The doors parted as two guards dragged in a figure, tossing him to the floor in front of the throne. Sweat poured off his brow, shaking beneath the two guards. 

 Allistair’s eyes widened. It was the royal baker! Who, ironically, was named Baker. A man nearly as sweet as the tarts he baked. What could he have done? 

Pointing at the baker, you said in an accusatory tone, “I am trying you for attempted murder.” 

Murder?!  Allistair turned to look at you, a worried expression on his face. Had you grown paranoid again? 

“Majesty! I would never,” the baker pleaded, staring up at you. “I would never bring harm to you! You gave me this job so I could feed my children! I am in debt to you.”

The words did nothing to move you, as still as stone. 

“I would hate to be your enemy if you try to kill those you owe,” you scoffed. “Tell me why there were tree nuts on my toffee at breakfast. I’m allergic to those.”

Allistaire nearly gasped. If you had an allergic reaction, he would have had to bring you through the rabbit hole to the Ordinary World, where they had the doctors to treat you. Wonderland medicine rarely worked on mortals, even former ones. 

Baker looked up at you, the fear across his face breaking your heart. “Please!” he begged. “There was a mistake! Tree nuts look so similar to the Fluffle nuts found here in Wonderland. When I was given the ingredients, I must have overlooked them! A mistake! A terrible, terrible mistake!” 

No, he wouldn’t harm you; he would never. All he had done was bring you sweets when you were having bad days. Brought you your morning tea. 

“And so would the White Queen,” a voice whispered in the back of your mind. “She was like a sister to you. She would never harm you, either. Thinking that is what got Rowan killed!”

“A mistake?” you snapped. Anger rose up in you, sharp and thorny. If you let this murderer live, then who else would he harm? 

 “Liar. I know when someone wishes to take my throne!”

Allistaire spoke up, “Perhaps we should consider the truth in his words. Hold a trial, until we can find more evidence.” Too late. 

“Off with his head!” you screamed, the words falling past your lips before you could realize what you had ordered. Baker froze, as well as the guards. 

“We were friends once,” the baker whispered. 

Friends? You had heard that one before. “By now, you should know I made a great friend,” you replied in a tone as cold as ice. “But I make a greater enemy.” 

No. No. No. This wasn’t going well at all! Allistaire leaned in, whispering in your ear, “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hasty. Consider the other kitchen staff before we make a choice we can’t take back.” 

Evidence…of course! How could you overlook such an important detail? Usually, you would have noticed right away. Guess only getting an hour of sleep last night had put you off your game. Not to mention you had probably only gotten a good eight hours if you added up all the hours you had gotten all week. 

Baker dropped to his knees, as panic crept into his voice. “My wife was injured during the White Queen’s raids! I am the only one now who can provide for our children!” he choked out. “We have three children! Ginger, Plum, and Angel! You’ve met them before! Please!” 

One of the guards nodded to the other, who went towards the axe on the wall. Allistaire’s ears rose, 

Holding up a hand, you halted him. 

“Who gave you the ingredients?” you asked. 

“The new kitchen hire,” Baker responded. “The one you hired yesterday, Your Majesty.”

Allistaire murmured to himself, “I don’t remember approving any paperwork.”

A chill went down your spine at his words, narrowing your gaze. “I never hired anyone new.”

“Yes, you did,” Baker insisted. “The new one, with the tail. Told me he was here to help after Mary left…” The baker’s eyes widened as realization dawned on him. 

“A spy,” Allistaire whispered under his breath in disgust. 

“Guards! Release Baker!” you ordered, much to the baker’s surprise. “And take the man he has described to a cell at once. Don’t question him.” With a cold smile, you added. “I want to speak with him personally.” 

Baker’s shoulder slumped in relief, a hand going to his neck, as if holding onto his head. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he stuttered. “I appreciate the mercy.” 

“Return to your work at the kitchens,” you demanded. “I’ll have the royal accounts consider a raise. I’m sure Ginger is near academy age by now, and you’ll be needing it.” 

Baker stiffened, almost as if it were a trick how quickly you switched from a cold ruler to now offering him a raise. Not to risk anything, he simply gave a bow and scurried out of the throne room, down the hall. 

“Are there any more crimes to see to today?” Allistaire asked, quickly regaining his composure. 

Sparing him a glance, you sighed and leaned back on the throne, as if bored. “No, that’s the only case for today.” 

Noticing the exhaustion on your face, Allistair suggested, “How about we take tea in the gardens? It’s a sunny day outside.” 

After all, you hadn’t been outside in a week; he’d noticed you were so focused on your duties. If he had the chefs add a bit of lavender to it, maybe you would finally take a nap. 

“Tea would be nice right now,” you admitted. “Go ahead. I’ll meet you there in a moment.” With a wave of your hand, Allistair took his leave, bounding towards the doors, leaving the throne room empty again. 

With a sigh, you took a look towards the gardens. Spring was in bloom, and so would the roses soon be. Red roses. Rowan had built the rose gardens just for you, knowing how much you loved them. 

“My Rose,” he had called you. For roses were loved, despite their thorns. Rowan was one of the only people who had appreciated your sharp tongue and rough edges. When you had first met, he had pulled you into a dance at a ball right here in this very hall, to which you dug your heel into his foot and called him an arrogant, spoiled prince. Later, he confessed he fell in love at that moment, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself just yet. It took you much longer to warm up to him. 

The thought of him brought an ache into your chest, the shroud of grief settling over you again. Grief was strange that way. One day, a memory which made you smile brought tears to your eyes. Even now, you remembered the scent of his robes, the grin on his face when he had a new idea for one of your schemes. As big and terrible as a Cheshire cat’s. The feel of his fingers in your hair, hand on your waist as he held you. The stupid expression he had when he watched you train with your sword, blushing like a fool, and the terrible jokes he told. 

Love which you had once never wanted, believing it only existed between the pages of the books you spent hours reading. The ones he spent years finding to bring back to the palace’s library. 

Each memory was a shard of glass, each one sharper than the last. 

A crown was a heavy burden for one to carry, but a heart was much heavier. 

Unlike your family at home, in the Ordinary world. Soon you would have to go through the looking glass and pay them a visit to keep up appearances. As far as they knew, you were working as a museum curator in upstate New York with as little contact as possible. When you first found Wonderland, you had been gone for weeks and declared missing by the police. As unlikely as anyone finding Wonderland could be, it was a risk not worth taking. So as much as you longed to never set foot near them again, it was best to show up at a family dinner from time to time. In a decade or so, it would become difficult to hide the lack of aging, but that was a problem for another day. 

Pushing those feelings down, you rose from the throne as always. It’s what you had always done: get back up again no matter how many times you were pushed down. No use in dwelling on the past, for you were a different girl back then. Strong, but not as much as you were now. Keeping the throne was what mattered now. Wishes do not bring back the dead. Only memories do. 

The world which had once felt like a dream was now more of a nightmare. 

Time for tea. 

Meanwhile…

Allistair made his way down the halls, past the bustling servants, towards the kitchens to request tea. Typically, a servant would be specifically tasked with such, but you now insisted on him handling such trivial tasks because you no longer trusted any of the palace staff. If anyone else had told him to do so, he’d be offended as an advisor to be treated like a common butler, except he couldn’t refuse a direct order from the Queen. Not that he would ever want to, anyway. 

A passing lizard carrying the washing practically sneered at him, to which Allistair only glared back until the lizard drooped its head and sped past. Many had grown jealous of the Queen’s trust in him, which guaranteed safety. 

As he turned down an empty hall, a voice called from behind, “Where are you hopping off to so quickly, Bunny?” 

Oh, he would know that voice anywhere. A headache was already coming on from annoyance. A wide grin appeared in the shadows from thin air, like a half moon in the sky. Next followed the ears, tail, then the rest of the tricky shapeshifter. Shadow was one of the few shapeshifters left in Wonderland, which had no true form outside of the shadows they slipped through. Usually, Shadow appeared in the form of a grinning cat or a man. Today, it seemed he had settled on a bit of both. Purple cat ears atop his curly, raven-dark curls as he smiled mischievously back at him as he leaned in the air, as if sitting on a branch. A tail flicked back and forth behind him. 

His real name was Shadow, but many had given him the nickname Cheshire, although nobody knew who came up with it. Probably Shadow, knowing him. 

Allistair stared back at him, showing as little interest as possible. 

“What?” he teased, brushing his tail under the advisor’s chin. “Cat got your tongue?” 

“I’m busy, and I don’t have time for any of your nonsense right now,” Allistair responded. “If you want to tell riddles, go find someone else.” 

Shadow’s grin only widened. “Ohhh….so uptight,” he mocked, green feline eyes flashing with delight. “Always have to be on time, don’t you. Wouldn’t want you being late again, now would we?” 

The comment stung, getting under his skin. Shadow knew it too. 

“I could have the guards remove you,” he snapped. “Toss you out right now! You shouldn’t even be on the palace grounds.”

“Only if they can catch me!” Shadow rolled onto his back, staring at him upside down now. Annoyed, Allistair walked past him. 

“Ohhh… did I mention I know a secret, royal advisor?” the shapeshifter taunted. Allistair kept walking, only to stop in his tracks. “Or should I say, Prince of the White Kingdom? Or is bastard more appropriate?” 

Time seemed to stop, the hall going quiet. Only the steady tick, tick, tick, of his stopwatch could be heard. 

“Where did you hear that from?” Allistair asked, whirling around to face him. “Tell me where you heard that from!” 

“A little here, a little there,” Shadow smirked. “A little everywhere!” Okay, now he was really getting on his nerves. 

“Tell me what you know,” he repeated through gritted teeth. 

Shadow pretended to think, tapping his finger to his chin. “Let’s see…what’s the bigger secret? Would the Queen rather know you’re the bastard son of her greatest enemy, or how your heart beats for her, and she’s too blind to see it? I wonder…”

Slowly, the shapeshifter began to fade, sinking into the shadows until only a wide smile remained, and was gone.