Summary: There are some stories that are never meant to be told, some things that are too terrible to say. Yet what you don’t say can often be more dangerous than what you do. When Arabella, Alice’s granddaughter, is given the task of saving Wonderland from the Majesties of Hearts, she finds out just how much Lewis Carroll’s books left out.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original Alice characters, or Wonderland. Also a few elements in this story are borrowed from the computer game American McGee’s Alice; it appears that there are only so many ways to make Wonderland dangerous. Recently I have discovered information about the life of Alice Liddell that makes me realise that parts of this story would not be possible: for example, Alice’s real granddaughter was called Mary Jean, not Arabella, and when Alice’s Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass were written Alice was eleven and then nineteen, therefore she couldn’t have been to Wonderland as a fourteen-year-old. However I only found out this information when I was writing Chapter 11, so it’s too late to change the story now. Besides, this is a story, not a historical novel, so I guess a few mistakes can be ignored. Hopefully.

Note to all readers: I have tried to remain as faithful to the books as possible, but without sticking rigidly to the world that Lewis Carroll has given. If you do read this story I really would appreciate it if you would tell me your opinion, whether you want to say this is the worst story you have ever read or that it’s quite good.

Now let’s get started.

Saving Wonderland

By Fudge 1

Have you ever been lost inside a dream?

Living in a dark fantasy,

Following paths you’re sure you know

Memories seem so long ago…

And all this time the eyes still see–

the nose still smells, the mouth still breathes –

and yet you never stop to think

as into this world you sink,

that here is not where you belong:

the jarring note in a mad song.

That the creatures do not want you here

and will make you leave in fear.

That when you’re gone, there’s no return,

but with longing you will burn,

for a place of ice and sand,

A place that is called Wonderland…

Prologue

They stood at the edge of the silvery Dream Web: a blonde girl in a blue dress with a blood-stained apron and a chestnut-haired boy dressed in royal reds, blacks and whites.

They had faced many dangers to get there, and had triumphed over the majority of them. Now, as the battle raged, unheard, outside, was the time to see if their efforts had been worthwhile. Now, in the great Dream Web, the centre of Dreamworld, they would face the nightmare.

At the centre of the Web was the spider, her long, pale hands resting lightly on the arms of her throne.

‘You have caused suffering,’ the girl said. ‘You have damaged this world almost beyond recognition. Some of the things you have done are irreversible.’

The Queen smiled. ‘As are some of the things that you have done. You have destroyed the Bridges, the Clockwork Tower is almost beyond repair, and I do not even want to mention the Doorway Corridor.’

‘Leave now,’ the boy said. ‘Leave this doomed world; you have done your work! Leave of your own accord, or we shall force you out!’

‘With what?’ the Queen said. ‘Your little sword? Your “weapons”? None of them can harm me!’

‘Wanna bet?’ the boy said, altering his grip on his sword.

The Queen laughed, a cruel, malicious laugh that suggested that this was such a wonderful joke, that this was all just a bit of fun. ‘Do you really think you can scare me? The other creatures of this realm may hail you as their saviours, the great Alice and the Prince, but I do not scare so easily.’

The girl’s lips curled into a smile. ‘Then we shall have to try a bit harder, shan’t we?’

---

The Red Queen stepped into her inner sanctum. She held a necklace in her long slim fingers. The silver pendant, an Ace of Spades, caught the light as she walked.

A starved, tortured creature appeared on her chaise lounge.

‘Ah, my grinning demon,’ her Highness said, stroking its ears. ‘I have defeated her.’

‘If I had thought there was even the slightest chance of you not doing so,’ the creature said, ‘I would not have brought her here.’

The Queen smiled, a cruel, merciless smile. She held the necklace around her neck, to see the effect it had. Evidently it did not please her, so she threw it to the creature.

‘Give this to the next child you bring,’ she ordered. ‘Tell them it is some sort of good luck charm. They will place all their trust in it and, when they lose it somehow, it should leave even weaker than they already are.’

The creature caught the necklace and struggled into it, so the silver stood up against its dirty tabby coat. ‘As you wish, your majesty,’ it said before disappearing.

In the safety of its lair, the creature’s eyes narrowed with hatred. It addressed the shadows, in such an angry tone they seemed to shrink back. ‘I shall bring a few hopeless children,’ it said, ‘to let her sink into a sense of security.’

‘Are you willing to let them suffer?’ said a voice from the shadows.

The creature shook its head. ‘No, dear friend, I am not. Yet I must, Caterpillar, please try and understand that. For I need her to be content before I bring the one who will defeat her. Before I bring a girl like Alice.’