I do not own Alice in Wonderland. It belongs to Lewis Carrol.
(Also, this is AU, therefore Alice is much older, and the queen much less repulsive.)
Perfect for Wonderland
She was pretty; a pretty little perfect girl who was pure and innocent and inexperienced and oh-so wonderfully naïve. She was a woman, truly, but she had yet to be kissed or touched. She had yet to be anything.
And I was the opposite.
I was ravaged and experienced and a whore and a cynical mess.
And perhaps it was true; opposites attract. But why would I be attracted to someone so unbearably…sweet? I wished she'd grow up; I wished she'd see the world for what it truly was. All she saw was fairy tales and wonderlands. Wonderland wasn't what she dreamed about; it was awful, she'd said, dreadful.
I supposed that her disappointment was my fault; when she'd seen my castle, created from decks of terribly decaying cards; red hearts and diamonds bleeding; clubs and spades crying inky black tears….it was grotesque, and I knew it. I wasn't grotesque….was I? Messy, curly black hair and a gaunt face that was streaked with makeup and eyes that were hazel and lined with kohl….no, I was most certainly not repulsive.
SHE, however; with her blonde hair and her blue eyes and her little yellow dress with the twin pockets in the front that was not at all befitting to a woman…I wished she'd wear something else.
We walked through my castle, and she admired the chess pieces that lay on the floor, cracked and broken, but still wonderfully polished marble, all the same. She said she liked the way the stairs spiraled…the way they seemed to be endless…
"Alice, my dear," my tone was forever-regal and bored, but she was attentive, looking at me with wide blue eyes that reflected the childlike innocence that I loathed.
"Yes, your Majesty?" She cocked her head to one side, and simpered, resting against the stair rail.
I hated her in that moment; in that pose, but I continued as if she had said nothing and had not looked at me in such a way. I wanted her innocence to die….
"Shall we go into my chambers, Alice? For tea, perhaps?"
"Oh, yes, your Majesty!"
I hated her excitement.
We entered by chambers, and I locked the door behind us--tense and very aware of the guards that would come knocking if they heard--if they knew, oh, bless me, what would they do?
"Alice, my dear, please, sit on the bed…make yourself at home."
She sat on the edge of it, crossing her legs, looking expectant and happy and everything that I loathed.
"Where is the tea, your Majesty?"
Oh, how naïve!
"My dear Alice, tell me," she looked up at me, her legs crossed, and her palms pressed flat against the bed.
"Your fiancé--" her ring finger twitched, pale flesh entwining itself into black silk sheets.
"No, no, Alice. Has he ever…kissed you?" I was in front of her now, feeling exulted and apprehensive and above all, just so excited.
"W-well, o-of course he has…" she was flustered, her pretty face flushing a rather bright shade of scarlet.
"You needn't be embarrassed…" my hand brushed against her knee. She shivered….
"Your Majesty, why--" my lips met hers; and there was no innocence at all in the noise she made….
…..surprise that was mixed with a delightful dose of repulsion, pleasure finding its way into the concoction….she was just so innocent!
I grasped her face in my hands, and she grasped my wrists, nails digging into me.
She was in Wonderland, was she not? The place where the whores and the wretches go….where the damned roamed….she was not welcome here, looking and acting so innocent. She was a woman, and yet she was untouched, loved, but untouched. And if she wanted to fit in here, she would have to bleed….she would have to be desecrated…
Her dress was stripped away from her delicate body, and she shivered….whimpering whenever I touched her. Her legs wrapped around my waist, and I kissed her again, biting her pretty pink lips, moaning at the taste of her blood in my mouth.
"Yes, Alice, my dear…" I began, my lips at her ear now, "….this is what Wonderland is for. This is what it accommodates. Not these--" I ripped her disgustingly white and pure knickers off, "--or this--" her white bra…they were discarded, and my fingers pressed against her, feeling the innocence pulse…
"We also don't accept this." I pressed my fingers against her entrance, teasing her…terrifying her…
"Now, let's make you suitable…"
As I knew and hoped that she would. My nails scrapped against her purity, desecrating the angelic aura that had surrounded her. She writhed on the bed…begging, pleading, and it was such a wonderful mixture of piteous agony and arousing pleasure that I moaned at the sigh.
"Oh, you Majesty--don't--yes, your Majesty…"
She succumbed easily; wetly, if anything, and cried out my title, along with a string of profanities that sounded so beautiful as they tumbled from her bloody, lip-stick stained mouth.
"See, now, Alice? You're perfect now. Perfect for Wonderland."
A/N: I basically made my own version of Wonderland; a place for the damned, really. Alice was a young adult here, engaged to a young, rich man, and the Queen was a middle-aged woman, impure and jealous. This may or may not be fleshed out into a more cohesive piece of work. Not sure. Anyway, I'd like to hear your thoughts!