13A/N: Hello, everyone! Before reading this fic, I want give you guys a fair warning: This fic of mine has been in the works for almost three years now, so I apologize if it isn't very good. College has taken up so much of my time, and all but killed my creativity. This fic isn't my best work, but I'm content with how it came out. I meant to post it sooner before Alice: Otherlands, the sequel to Alice: Madness Returns, came out. I haven't fully recovered from my writer's block and the horror that's college, but I hope everyone will enjoy this fic!
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The Illustrated London News, with its natural insatiable appetite for domestic mayhem and industrial disaster, wasted no time printing an article about Dr. Angus Bumby's "unfortunate" tumble at the Moorgate Station which led him to being completely crushed to death by an oncoming train.
It's been nearly a week since that fateful incident, and yet, all the citizens in London talked about it like it only happened yesterday.
Houndsditch Home for Wayward Youth was closed down and put up for sale, the orphans were shipped off to another orphanage, and Alice packed what little possessions she had left, including her beloved family portrait, and never looked back. Her job was done. She could only pray that the children would be placed somewhere better—with someone who would treat them well.
As for her, ridicule spread like wildfire. Folks in the East End were never a pleasant bunch from the get-go. Men, women, and even children gossiped, jeered, and glared at Alice with disdain as she walked down the filthy cobblestone. Despite their moronic blustering, not one ever dared to be more than twenty feet away from where she was. They scurried like mice as she made her way through the corners and alleys in search for her nanny.
"A plague of misfortune, she is," sneered one woman buying spoiled fruit at the Whitechapel Market.
Her friend nodded in agreement. "Family died in a fire, and now Bumby's dead, too. Death follows her around like a shadow."
Imprudent criticism aside, Alice knew she had her work cut out for her. She was a young woman, unmarried, homeless, penniless, and a history of madness, with little to no hope of surviving in the cruel world that was London's East End. Her only allies in the real world were her sharp wit and Nan Sharpe. She found Nan taking shelter at another brothel located somewhere in the East End.
Thanks to her former teacher, Alice was given a temporary bedroom at the brothel until she secured a job. She had absolutely no intention becoming a prostitute, after all, and going back to that ugly old crone, Pris Witless, was out of the question. Alice briefly wondered how Pris reacted to the news of that vile creature's death. After all, Pris was the one who set Alice up to work as a maid at Houndsditch, and then "blackmailed" her into giving her wages to spend on booze.
I hope she's buried six feet under, Alice thought as Nan came barging in her room one afternoon, announcing that she was able to acquire a job for her former pupil.
"A maid?" Alice repeated, evidently in disbelief. It wasn't the fact that Nan managed to convince someone to hire her that shocked Alice the most—it was the location. "At a household in the West End? How did you come across such information?"
"One of my friends who works at a brothel, of course! The chap who's willingly to hire you is one of her clients. Said she heard him drone on about looking for a maid."
Alice scrunched her nose in disgust, scoffing inwardly. She was going to work for a pervert? "Is he wealthy or well-to-do?"
"Well-to-do, though I heard he's facing some financial troubles as of late," Nan replied. "No title or ridiculously wealthy, but he has enough money and you get to live better than anyone else here. But, Alice, I won't lie to you: The work will be hard, and given your past, you won't be treated well by anyone."
"I assume that this man's intentions of hiring me wasn't out of the goodness of his heart?" Alice rolled her eyes to emphasize her sarcasm and flattened her palms on her hips. "I refuse to work for a man who doesn't have an honorable bone in his body."
"Men's intentions for women are never honorable; take it from me, Alice. But this could be your only chance." Her nanny gazed at her with sympathetic eyes. "At the very least, you won't be on the streets or stuck here hooking yourself from one wanker to another. Keep your head down and that sharp tongue of yours shut, Alice. As long as you do good work and don't bother anyone, they won't kick you out."
Alice frowned, biting her lower lip in contemplation. A maid's duty was to keep the household spotless, obey their masters without question, and be invisible upon doing their work. Alice had worked as a maid at Houndsditch, so she did have experience. She didn't fancy of being anyone's plaything, but what can she do? There wasn't any other favorable option left for her to choose from. It wasn't too long that Nan once said that women had do things they didn't want to do in order to get by in life. Right now, that truly applied to her.
With a defeated sigh, Alice nodded. "All right, Nanny, I'll take the job."
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That was how Alice came to work for the Whitlock household as a scullery maid. When Alice first laid her eyes upon the house, she didn't have much of an opinion on it. The house was made up of two stories, plus an attic and basement. The bricked house was colored in a reddish-brown hue, and there were steps leading up the threshold. After Nan had escorted Alice to the house and bid farewell, Alice was left in the hands of household's oldest maid, Edith.
Edith was in her early fifties, and was about the same height as Alice. Dressed from head to toe in a standard maid uniform, she'd acted as Alice's mentor and supervisor for the first few weeks. She'd introduced the remaining servants to Alice and guided her to the attic, her sleeping quarters. Afterwards, she'd given Alice a tour around the house, explained the rules, and sent her to work immediately. Their first encounter was described as awkward at best, much like the others servants who regarded Alice with wariness. They knew about her past in Rutledge Asylum. Everyone in London knew—the newspaper wrote about her status since the night of the fire. Over time, however, Edith seemed to have warmed up to Alice. She was the only one remotely kind to her. If nothing else, Alice could tell Edith pitied her more than she disliked her.
It's been three months now.
Alice's situation did not improve. Scullery maid was the worst position for a girl to have, and her history in a mental institution only made her job more difficult. As the newest addition to the house, she was given the hardest and longest tasks. Moreover, she was expected to do all of it with little to no help from anyone else.
Today was no different.
At five-thirty in the morning, Alice was the first one to get up. She groaned as she hefted herself out of bed and sauntered to the wardrobe in her room. Alice's attic bedroom was only slightly smaller than the room she had in Houndsditch and just as empty. Her bed was located at the back of the room on the left side by the tiny window. The photograph of her family was placed on the wall by her bed. On the right side of the room, there was a wooden wardrobe that held her clothes, which consisted of two standard maid uniforms and the clothes that Pris gave her. Alice slept in her black-and-white striped shirt during the nights. She couldn't afford a nightgown of her own.
She changed quickly and then headed to the kitchen to light the kitchen fire. The cook will be the second one to rise in the morning to prepare the family's breakfast, and Alice's first task was to prepare the cooking fire. Next, she went to the cistern in the scullery and pumped buckets of waters to load in the kitchen range's water tank and on the stove. Today was Monday, so Alice made sure to heat enough water for laundry. It took her about an hour to carry the heavy buckets of water to the kitchen and back until the tank was filled. Once that was done, she went back to the scullery and took the opportunity to cleanse her tired face with lukewarm water. As she dried her face, she heard hurried footsteps.
"Don't dawdle, girl," ordered Ida. "If you're done heating the water, then go upstairs and fill the washbasins. Bring the chamber pots down, too."
And then she was gone. Ida was the kitchen maid, which meant that she outranked Alice. Ida was an average-looking woman somewhere in her mid-thirties with dark brown hair and eyes, and just a foot taller than Alice. She, like the other servants, was wary of Alice, but she wasn't cruel to her since they had to work together in the kitchen. Ida was quiet and went about her work like a proper maid.
"Another day, another endless pile of work to be done," Alice sighed as she exited the scullery. She didn't bother greeting the cook, Reuben, as she zipped past him to fetch a pewter glass to pour lukewarm water to carry upstairs for the washbasins. Instead, she glared daggers at him, and was careful to keep her distance. He noticed and glowered, his features distorting with an irritated scowl.
A burly man in late thirties with beefy arms and a slightly plump belly, Reuben had a bloated face that was permanently red from always hovering over steam when cooking. He was the only male servant in the household. When Alice moved to leave, he gripped her wrist roughly. Taken aback, Alice almost dropped the pewter glass on the floor.
Reuben spoke in a gruff, arrogant tone, "Drop that attitude of yours, girl."
As the cook, he had authority over both Ida and Alice, but he only acted this way to the latter. He was nothing but a nasty brute, and Alice despised him with every fiber of her being. Since day one, he sexually harassed her to no end. He leered at her openly, violated her personal space on more than one occasion, and even managed to touch her thighs and rear a few times whenever she past by. Just yesterday, he snuck up behind her brushed his palm on her behind when she sweeping the floors.
The maid uniform covered all traces of skin from the neck down, but Alice still shuddered violently and wrenched his hand off. His touch, even under the layer of fabric, sent a wave of absolute repulsion coursing through her. A sensation akin to needles stabbing at her flesh lingered, and Alice dashed out the kitchen. Her grip on the pewter glass tightened as she suppressed the urge to vomit.
She hated being touched. She didn't even let Nan touched her. After her time in Rutledge, physical contact of any kind was excruciatingly painful to her. When she worked at Houndsditch, whenever one of the orphans touched her, she reprimanded them with a spank to their buttocks.
"Alice, what's wrong?" inquired Edith, her soft voice imbued with concern.
Instead of answering, Alice curtly bowed her head to her and the other maid, Mary, as she passed the foyer. When she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped and heard the two women conversing below.
"What the devil is wrong with her?"
"Hmph, she's nothing more than a loon," spat Mary. "Probably seeing things in that crazy head of hers."
Alice frowned in displeasure. Mary was a pretty woman in her mid-twenties with shoulder-length, auburn hair and hazel eyes. For whatever reason, Mary hated Alice and constantly insulted her. Alice didn't know why she was the target of such hatred, but she knew it had more to do with her past at Rutledge. Mary and Edith worked in the main rooms of the house while she and Ida worked in the kitchen, so Alice never interacted with her much. So, as far as she knew, there wasn't any real reason for Mary to loathe her so.
"I suppose I should be grateful she hasn't done any more to me than hurl pointless insults," Alice mumbled as she continued her trek to the master bedroom. Alice didn't like Mary, either, and had no plans of being friends with her. Mary was the closest servant to Alice's age, and she was the youngest maid before her arrival. Maybe Mary was spiteful of Alice because she was younger than her and the men of the house paid too much attention to her as a result. Mary was the type of person who demanded attention, which only made her selfish and vain. She was the type of woman who knew she was attractive, and took full advantage of that. Alice witnessed her batting her eyelashes with the master a few times whenever they were in the same room.
Alice resumed her duties for the rest of the morning. After filling the washbasins and carrying the chamber pots down, she helped with breakfast. As the scullery maid, she was stuck in the kitchen and scullery for most of the time, cleaning dishes after she assisted with the serving. For the remainder of the day, Alice took solace in the courtyard, left alone to her work while the other servants scrambled to do their own chores.
Around midday, however, clamorous noise erupted from inside. Alice paid no need to the sound of trampling footsteps, thundering shouts, and objects being knocked over as she scrubbed the pots and pans. It was just the master and mistress squabbling again. Their yelling contest proceeded for a good ten minutes until Edith, down to her last nerve, marched to the courtyard for cover. With a breathless voice, she exclaimed, "My goodness, they're at it again!"
Alice rolled her eyes. That was nothing new. The house was accustomed to hearing their employers' petty quarrels on a daily basis. It wasn't a strange sight to see, though, as Master Fergus and Mistress Gertrude Whitlock were stuck in a loveless marriage. That's why they never had children. Such an unhappy union was bound to usher in such chaos and create madness for the whole household.
Edith assessed Alice with an uneasy look. "Alice, dear child, you'd best to stay out here for a good while longer. You know how Mistress gets whenever she's in her foul mood."
She's always in a foul mood, Alice thought spitefully. Especially towards me.
The old woman smoothed out her dress and sat down on the stairs leading to the scullery. "Reuben is out into the town, buying some fish for tonight's stew. You'll be able to continue your work undisturbed, Alice."
"Thank you for informing me," she murmured respectfully. Edith was well aware of the cook's concupiscent nature and how it was directed at her.
"How are you settling in to the house? It's been a few months now, hasn't it?"
There was something...off about the way Edith asked that. Alarms went off in Alice's brain. She moved the bowl she was cleaning to the side and stared at the elderly woman. "What is it? You don't quite seem like yourself."
The Liddell survivor observed how the fellow maid squirmed, the way she clasped her hands tightly together, how she folded the side of her maid cap so it showed wisps of her graying hair. Edith glanced anxiously to the ground and then at her. "Alice, you know that your place is at the house, do you not?"
"Yes, I do." Her position as a maid here was always a precarious one. The man who hired her did it based on a selfish, perverted reason—hopefully, one that wouldn't last for too long.
Fergus was man obsessed with social status and driven by sexual desire. He only employed her because he found her attractive. In fact, she caught him ogling her when she was serving breakfast this morning once again. No doubt that sparked Gertrude's ire. The mistress of the house was just as hedonistic and snobbish as her arrogant partner. She was fully aware of her cheating husband's frequent visits to the whorehouses situated all over London and his reason for hiring Alice. It was why she treated Alice so harshly and loathed her so openly. She was jealous of Alice earning her husband's attention when she could not.
Edith continued, "I've tried my best to look out for you, my dear. I truly did, in spite of everything."
"Am I being fired?" Alice inquired bluntly.
"No, but..."
"But what?"
"Alice," Edith's shoulders slumped. There was no why she could sugarcoat the truth, so she might as well be straightforward. "The argument earlier was about you—you and money, to be more exact."
Alice tilted her head to the side, dumbfounded. Fergus worked for a shipbuilding company, and was the head of its trading division. However, before being employed to the household, the company was currently suffering due to bad investments—or so the rumors say. Alice had questioned Edith before about how they could afford another maid when they were struggling through a financial crisis. Moreover, they had plenty of servants already. He and his wife were the only residents in the house, aside from the servants, and the house wasn't that big to begin with. Edith had explained to her in a hushed whisper, "Master and Mistress make up for what they lack in station with volume. They pretend they sit on thrones so high we could see up their noses. Buying jewels and clothes, attending luxurious parties—all an act to allow others to perceive them as noblemen. Never mention money around them, Alice. They hate money troubles."
"So?" Alice prompted. "What about me?"
"Mistress wants you out, Alice. You know she can't stand you, and they can't afford another maid at the moment." Edith paused to look over her shoulder to make sure Ida or Mary weren't eavesdropping on their conversation. "But Master suggested another alternative, and it was a solid one."
"Instead of me, they want to get rid of you, correct?" she guessed.
Edith nodded slowly. "Indeed. You are younger and faster—you'll be able to work more efficiently than I do. There's no need for an old maid like myself to be working anymore in the house now that you were here."
"But are you satisfied with this decision?"
"Nothing has truly decided yet, child, but yes, I am satisfied." She heaved out a tired sigh. "To be honest, I've planned to leave after you have gotten use to the ways of the house. I'm too old now, Alice, much too old. It's time for retirement. I've worked here for years, and I've made my income to last me till I die."
"Where will you go if they decide to release you?" Alice would be losing her only ally in the house if that happened. The notion panged her a bit.
"I have family elsewhere, no need to worry." Edith stood and smoothed her palms down her skirt to rid them of wrinkles. "I wanted to tell you, so you'll know what's to come. It was only fair."
"I'm grateful," Alice inclined her head in gratitude. Edith was a kind woman, and she resembled the closest thing to a friend Alice in the household.
Edith flashed her a sad smile and ventured indoors.
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The day was blissfully over.
Alice flopped down on her bed, and let out a tired yawn. The attic was dark, and she didn't bother lighting the oil lamp. The darkness soothed her, and provided her with comfort.
"Looking worse for wear, I see," a deep, masculine voice chuckled from the obsidian shroud.
Alice bolted upright, scanning every inch of her room in search for the owner. That flippant, mocking voice... She knew it all too well. Alice glared angrily and folded her arms, stonily remarking, "For what do I owe this visit? It's been three months since I last saw or heard you."
Another cheeky laugh reverberated in the room. "My, my... Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"Show yourself, Cat, I am in no mood to play your games."
Gradually, his emaciated form appeared out of thin air. His yellow orbs burned brightly like coals in a fire. "You haven't lost that sharp tongue of yours."
"And neither have you," Alice quipped back. "What do you want, Cat? Why appear before me now after so long?"
"Is that resentment I hear?" His permanent grin widened, his bloody fangs flashing at her. "I've missed you as well, Alice."
"Hmph," she scowled as she snapped her head to the side. Shortly after Bumby died, Cheshire showed himself to her in London...or was it Wonderland? Londerland? Whatever the case may be, he was here in London, when he was supposed to be nothing more than a figment of her active imagination. She didn't know how it was possible for him to manifest himself in her world. She had asked him, but he'd merely dodged the question. Then after she got a job as a maid in the Whitlock residence, he just vanished—leaving Alice alone and to fend for herself with no companion to aid her. "The only thing I've missed was the opportunity to cut out your tongue."
He laughed at her, amused. Her threats were entertaining to hear as ever. "Now, now, there's no need to be hostile when you should be showing me hospitality."
"And why, pray tell, should I do that?"
"The answer to that question will be revealed soon, my dear." Cheshire jumped onto the bed and settled down on the lumpy mattress. "Tell me, have you found solace in this cruel world of yours since you killed the target of your hatred and cause of your insanity?"
"Don't mock me, Cat!" Alice fumed. "My mind is still in shambles."
"You make it sound like being mad is such a terrible thing."
"It certainly doesn't give a lot of prospects for me to be free out this damnable household."
"Wrong, Alice. Your madness is not the cause of your unhappiness. It's your inability to escape from unfortunate situations like the one you are in now."
"A madwoman does not have a lot of choices in life to choose from in my world. Survival is necessary."
"Survival isn't living. Poor little Alice, thrown from one hellhole into another, and then another: First, Rutledge Asylum, then to the orphanage of your family's murderer, and now here—what do all three places have in common?" Cheshire quizzed sarcastically, his tail swaying in the air.
She was at the mercy of others, forced to pull in one direction and then another like a puppet controlled the puppeteers. She was still being used and abused by those who subjected her with nothing but pain and anguish. Alice opened her mouth and readied a scathing barb as payback, but he cut her off with another chortle. Was her ire that amusing to him?
"Now, now, no need to look at me like that."
"Remind me why I never severe your head from you shoulders."
"For one thing, the Queen beat you to it." The feline sat up and leaned over the girl, careful to not touch her. He peered at her lovely enraged face with a bold expression. "Secondly, I have always been helpful to you, have I not?"
The close proximity unnerved her, but Alice did not back away. "When you want to be."
"Oh, so true. Therefore, I shall again. Alice, my assistance did not end when you freed yourself from the web of lies that filthy humans have fed to you all your life. So now, prepare yourself, girl."
"For what?"
"For what I am about to do." His grin looked utterly devious. "I can—and will—set you free."
I'll set you free, Alice. Memory is curse more often than a blessing. Bumby's words echoed inside her mind. Alice felt a cold chill at the remembrance of that deplorable man.
"See you soon, Alice." With one last grin, the Cheshire Cat disappeared.
"You blasted cat!" Alice shouted, pounding her fists on the mattress like a petulant child. "Come back here, and explain yourself!"
No response.
How typical.
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The next morning, Edith gathered the servants in the parlor with an emergency announcement. She looked so frantic that Alice thought she was going to lose her mind. "Everyone, I've received word that an important guest is coming for dinner tonight, and Master Whitlock demanded that everything must be spotless and ready by the time the guest arrives."
The household was thrown into a wild typhoon. Alice had never seen the house bustling with so much life and energy before. She and the other servants did everything they were ordered to do to make the household perfect for their guest. They aired out the beddings; put up the laundry; polished the silverware; mopped the floors; beat the carpets; scrubbed the floors; ran to the market for fresh ingredients and sweet wine; cooked an extravagant meal in the kitchen; and washed the windows. By nightfall, they were all on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.
When there a knock on the front door, Mistress Gertrude flounced down the stairs in rather ungraceful manner in a long and stylish green evening gown to greet her guest. She was a woman in between her late twenties and early thirties with chestnut hair and dull green eyes. Her freckled face reminded Alice of a mouse, for her mouth and nose were small, and her eyes too wide. She was no great beauty, but she was pleasant enough to look at. Master Fergus followed down the stairs after his wife. He was a thin man in his mid-forties with brown hair and eyes, and a silly moustache.
Edith opened the door as Alice, Ida, and Mary hurried to foyer to also receive this mysterious visitor. Fergus and Gertrude were skilled actors, as they smiled endearingly to fit the image of a happy, married couple as their visitor stepped through the threshold. The master shook the man's hand cordially, but too ecstatically. "Welcome, my good friend, to my humble abode. I hope your trip here was pleasant."
"Welcome, sir, my husband spoke much about you," the mistress beamed, a light blush blossomed on her face she took in the man's full appearance. Mary and Ida's reactions were the same as the mistress's. They smiled prettily and flushed at how attractive their guest was.
He was the handsomest man Alice had ever laid eyes on. He looked young, possibly in his early twenties, with an angular face and sharp features. He had beautiful pale, snow-white skin that contrasted with his raven hair, rich and black as the deepest darkness. His hair was short and fringes fell upon his golden eyes. He was taller than Alice by a foot or two, his build was lean and fit, and he was dressed in a fine suit. Unlike the other women, however, Alice was not stunned by his looks.
It was his grin that captivated her.
His smug grin was broad, stretching from ear to ear, and showing his perfectly white teeth. Though he spoke to his hosts, his eyes were pinned on Alice. It was a look she was quite familiar with, one that was only associated with a certain feline.
"Hello, my good lady, I am Kier Kreiss. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
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He tracked her every movement.
To him, it didn't matter how subtle or trivial the motion was—his eyes followed her. The way her hips sashayed under her skirt as she go from one of the end of the table to set food on the table or pour wine; how the sleeve of her dress slid back when she picked up empty plates to carry to the scullery; and the slight turn of her head whenever she use her eyes to send venomous daggers his way.
He had to suppress his laughter when he saw the fury dancing in those emerald orbs of hers. No doubt she was going go on a tirade the minute they were alone. He couldn't wait for that to happen. He was looking forward to it.
When supper was over, Cheshire dabbed his lips with his napkin and requested, "May I ask for one of the maids to show me to the lavatory?"
"Of course," Fergus nodded eagerly. He gestured for Mary to come forward, and she did so most gleefully. "Mary, escort him."
"Yes, si—"
"Not her," Cheshire interjected sharply. He zeroed on Alice, who was clearing her mistress's plates. "Have her take me instead."
Alice froze, her pupils widening at his demand. The plates she held clattered loudly as she placed them back on the table. Every pair of eyes present in the room was staring at her—one with incredulity (Fergus), one with concern (Edith), one with shock (Ida), and two with jealousy (Gertrude and Mary). Cheshire's gaze was intent and hot, and Alice dreaded the attention.
Cursing inwardly, she played her part as a dutiful maid and murmured through gritted teeth, "As you wish, Mister Kreiss."
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"You stupid, stupid cat! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" Alice yelled furiously. She hated how cool and relaxed he was while she stood in front of him snarling like a caged animal.
The masquerading feline smiled charmingly as he leaned against the wall outside of the restroom. "A wondrous greeting, my dear. A good evening to you, too, by the way."
"Spare me the farce, Cat," she seethed. "I want answers, now. How are you even here, capable of being seen by others? Why are you here? And more importantly, what are you doing here?"
"Is it obvious?" The corners of his mouth curved into a seductive smirk. He reached out his hand, and Alice flinched, suddenly fearful of being touched. Her fear was dispelled when Cheshire weaved his deft fingers through a lock of her hair and tugged it to his lips. He kissed the strands lovingly, and then toyed with them between his fingertips. "I've come for you."
A light blush dusted Alice's cheeks. It was an action—a gesture—she was unaccustomed to receiving. She would've been flattered if she didn't have half a mind to throttle him. Besides, cats aren't known for their altruism. "Do not lie to me, Cat. Explain yourself."
"I do not lie, Alice, and I never did." He released her hair and eased back against the wall. "You're the real reason I'm here in the first place."
"Elaborate."
"To answer your first question, I'm capable of manifesting myself in your world and allow others to see me if I deem it so. That also includes changing my form into a human. I do hope you find my human disguise to be to your liking."
She did not give him the compliment he craved. "Go on."
"Secondly, the reason why I'm here is to negotiate a business contract with that foolish master of yours."
"You, a businessman?" Alice let out a derisive laugh. "You must be joking."
"I assure you, I do not jest." He fished out a card from his breast pocket and handed it to her.
She read it, incredulous. "You work for a tea company?"
He snatched the card from her and placed it inside his pocket. "And as a very high-ranking member in the company."
"How the blazes did you manage to pull that off?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" A sly grin adorned on his face now.
"Meaning you won't divulge the secrets to me?"
"You don't need to know the dull details," he drawled, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally. "Let's just say that I've been extremely busy these past three months."
Past three months? Alice's brain clicked. "You've been plotting this for three months? That's why you left?"
He nodded in confirmation. "Yes, and that brings me to your last question: I've come to save you."
"Save me?"
"I've kept an eye on you in this house ever since you started working here. I've decided to lend you a helping hand out of this hellhole."
"How?" Alice looked at him skeptically. "What can you possibly do to free me from this fate?"
"You know your master is currently in debt, correct?"
"Yes, from bad investments."
"Seeing as he needs salvation from his idiotic mistake and you London folks seem to have nothing but tea in your brains, wouldn't it be a perfect way to worm my way into this household in order to secure your freedom?" His grin was wicked this time.
An exhilarating thrill shot down her spine. Alice shivered at the sensation. "What are you planning, exactly?"
"Your master is desperate, and we all know what desperation does to a person. He needs this deal between his company and mine in order to salvage his career. Once I've got him just where I want him, I plan to include you in our agreement."
"You're planning to buy me?!" Alice's scowl was harsh. She jabbed an accusing finger at his chest. "I am not some piece of meat you can buy!"
Cheshire stared at the offended finger and then at her. "I do not see you as a piece of meat, my dear, but unless you have some other brilliant plan you're gearing to unfold in that noggin of yours, I see no other way in the matter."
"I can quit and—"
"And that will ruin my business deal. Alice, I'm doing this in the best way I know how," he reasoned. "You are my main goal here, but personal motive aside, the contract is important. I may be high-ranking in my company, but I have still to answer to a higher power. I'm doing this to secure our—your—future, girl."
"Why don't you scrape the whole plan altogether? This plan is risky at best." Alice pointed downstairs. "You don't want that disgusting buffoon down there to be vexed if you take me from his employment to ensure this business contract of yours, but you are basing your plan solely on the fact that he's desperate to make up for his money troubles. What if he doesn't take the deal? He could negotiate deals elsewhere with other companies."
Cheshire chuckled. "He tried, you know, and failed miserably. Besides, my company is making quite the stir in town. He'd be a complete git to reject any offers from me. My company is planning to dominate the trading industry in your London—"
"Not my London. I don't even want to be here." Oxford was her home. She was only transferred to London to be admitted into Rutledge Asylum. Living in the East End since she was discharged left Alice with a horrible impression on London. It was a terrible place to be in.
"—so it is important for me to secure every shipping company there is to achieve that goal. Plus, it's good income, is it not?" The hand he used to play with her hair was back, caressing the strands softly. "I'll be rewarded handsomely for this endeavor, and it will also benefit you, too. That family lawyer of yours drained your inheritance, correct? Think carefully, my dear Alice: Are you not tired of serving others? Wouldn't it be a sweet relief to live a life not answering to anyone and worrying to make ends meet?"
Radcliffe did liquidate her all of her assets for himself during her time in Rutledge, leaving Alice penniless. Not to mention, he still has her rabbit, damn him! What Cheshire was telling her was the smartest and most efficient way to not only free her from a life of eternal servitude but also to make sure she had enough money to get by. He also had a job to do, which, in turn, could benefit her for the better.
Defeated, Alice sighed like a sullen child. "Very well, do what you must. But don't ever cause a scene like that again. As long as I am under this household, I am at their mercy. I do not need you to rile their ire towards me anymore than you've done already."
She briskly stomped away, leaving as a satisfied smirk spread on the disguised cat's gorgeous features.
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He was in her room.
Alice glared at the intruder sitting cross-legged on her bed. "Get out."
Cheshire laughed. "So swift to dismiss me, are you?"
She had a long day, and was in no mood to argue with him. After "Kier Kreiss" departed from the Whitlock house, she spent hours cleaning up in the kitchen. It was nearly midnight, and she was tired from today's events.
"What are you doing here?"
On her bed, there was a white box. The feline indicated it to her with a flick of his wrist. Somehow, the movement looked elegant to her. "A gift from me to you. I do hope you like it. Sweet dreams, Alice."
His body became invisible, and she could no longer sense his presence in her room. For a good five minutes, Alice inspected the box curiously, as if she was waiting for something to leap out from it. The box was medium-sized and plain. There was no fancy ribbon or decoration on it.
She tapped it once. Nothing happened. Finally, she lifted the top off, revealing the item inside: A dark blue, sleeveless nightgown with embroidery at the straps, neckline, and hem was neatly folded in the box.
Hooking her fingers under the thin straps, Alice held it up and blinked twice. For a while, she was speechless. It baffled her to why her imaginary cat would give this to her. She needed a nightgown, yes, but even so...why? Why would he go to the trouble of buying this for her?
Alice ran her fingers over the fabric. It was smooth and silken. Was it expensive?
Setting in down on the mattress, Alice undressed.
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She didn't see him for another three days.
When he appeared again, the first thing she saw was a pair of polished black shoes.
Glancing upwards, Alice's gaze collided with his, paying no mind to her master's grating voice.
"Please excuse this, my good sir," Fergus sniffed indignantly, referring to the front steps dripping with water and soap suds. Alice had spent the last two hours cleaning the entrance with vigorous energy. Her palms were raw and red, her fingernails cracked. Perspiration dampened her forehead, and her uniform clung uncomfortably to her slender form. To put it mildly, Alice looked unsightly. Shamed at the indignity, she averted her green orbs to the cobblestone streets.
"Not at all," Cheshire pardoned casually. Fergus entered his house, tracking mud on the steps. Alice groaned, feeling more than crossed. She just cleaned them, and now it looked like she had to start all over. She grasped the brush and prepared to begin again, but halted when she noticed that Cheshire had yet to go inside.
He was staring at her with a hooded mien, but his molten gold eyes burned hotly. There was a mixture of emotions in those eyes, but Alice had no time to decipher them. She jerked her head subtly, demanding that he went indoors before anyone could see him looking at her in a way that no man shoulder ever look at a maid.
Receiving her message, he complied. Unlike her revolting master, Cheshire's shoes were squeaky clean.
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Later in the day, Alice was tasked to hang laundry to dry in the backyard. When she passed by the drawing room, she spotted him and her master enjoying a cup of tea and discussing business. Cheshire noticed her when she past the room, and he stared her pretty visage when their eyes met for a split second.
No matter where she was or fast she was going, he had always found her. It was like he was drawn to her.
He found her rubbing her aching back as she took a break from carrying another load of laundry out to dry. As he advanced, she flexed her sore fingers.
"Such chapped palms," he commented, his tone edged with aggravation.
"You're in a sour mood," Alice noted, folding her arms in a discreet attempt to shield them from view. "Why?"
"For someone so incredibly clever, you are ever so incredibly dense."
Agitation welled up within her. "What was that?"
"Nothing, my dear," he replied innocently.
"Making progress in that plan of yours, Cat?"
"Not quite. We're still in negotiations."
"It's been three days," she exclaimed impatiently. "What have you two been discussing—the weather?"
"That twit is under the impression he can bargain for more benefits."
Alice's lips quirked into a smirk. "A bloody louse, isn't he?"
"Indeed." He extended a closed fist to her. "Your hands, if you will."
"What is—"
His fingers opened and a glass vial filled to the brim with some odd liquid in it fell. Alice cupped her palms together quickly as it tumbled into her hands. She opened her mouth to ask what it is, but when she looked up from the vial, the cat was already gone.
She didn't see him for the rest of the day.
When she retired for the night, she discovered the substance was an ointment to soften the callus skin. Alice generously applied them to her rough hands with a tiniest trace of a smile on her face.
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The pattern continued for another week.
The man known as Kier Kreiss became a frequent guest to the Whitlock household. Whenever he came over, Cheshire made sure to catch Alice alone and speak with her. Their conversations were brief, but Alice appreciated his visits.
She didn't feel so alone anymore.
When he stopped by again for lunch on a Wednesday, the gifts resumed. He gave it to her when he found her folding linens in a cupboard.
"A sketchbook and charcoal pencils?" She caressed the sketchbook tenderly. Since she started working as a maid, she never had the time to draw. Even if she wanted to, she lacked the materials necessary to do so. Her drawings were very childish, but it brought her happiness. Sketching was one of the keenest pleasures she has ever known.
Seeing how Alice was positively glowing in gratification, the pleased feline grinned and returned to lunch with Fergus.
It was then, in that moment, Alice finally came to a realization:
He was courting her.
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Curled up into a ball underneath the thin blanket, Alice stroked Lizzie's bedroom key gingerly, caressing the cold metal between her fingertips. The color was so vibrant that it sparkled like a golden star in the darkness. Images of her beloved sister's dazzling smile flooded her mind.
Beautiful Lizzie.
Sweet Lizzie.
Alice loved her so, so much.
By the age of eighteen, Elizabeth had transformed into a classic English beauty. While her family may not have been of nobility, men desired Lizzie, and women envied her. Lizzie had beauty, wealth, a good education, adoring family and friends that loved her, and though she often found partake in mischievous activities behind her parents' back, her heart was one of gold.
As a child, Alice hadn't the faintest idea what Lizzie meant she relayed the numerous public (and, at times, unwanted and inappropriate) overtures she received from suitors whenever she attended soirées and other evening engagements. The only thing she did know was the burst of joy she felt whenever Lizzie confided in her.
Precious, sisterly secrets.
"I miss you, Lizzie..." Alice wiped the tear that dripped down the side of her cheek, sliding her sister's key beneath her pillow. It's where she kept it for safekeeping; she was afraid she'd lose it when she was working. If Lizzie was still alive today, perhaps Alice could've sought her advice on her newfound revelation of Cheshire's...fondness for her. It could have been another secret shared between sisters.
No matter how much she wished it, the past cannot be changed. Alice would never have the chance to ask Lizzie for counsel about romance like other sisters do.
If death were to befall her now, she'd welcome it with open arms. She was never afraid to die—be it by ice or fire. No one would care if she dead. She would be with her family in the afterlife, reunited with her loved ones. True happiness comes with death, wasn't that how the saying goes? Learning of the truth behind her family's murder might have been worth the suffering, but what's the worth in surviving in a realm of ruthless and detestable realism?
Reality was nothing but a source of unhappiness. What good was life in this broken, rotten world? Her life, her family, her stuffed rabbit, her sanity—all robbed from her by a delusional, depraved madman. Even her Wonderland became twisted—safe, for now, but damaged beyond repair.
Fantasies did not belong in reality, anyway.
She had nothing—nobody.
Cheshire was right: Surviving wasn't the same as living. For her, there was no meaning in both.
Consumed by her cynicism, Alice had completely forgotten the original subject of her thoughts. She blamed her fragmented brain. "Cat..."
"You called?"
Alice was almost surprised to find him kneeling by her bedside in his human form, his arms on the mattress and his chin resting on them. She had a feeling he was watching over her like a guardian angel since his reappearance in her life. Alice allowed a smile to bloom on her drowsy countenance. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear."
"Feeling lonely, Alice?" he smirked playfully.
"Perhaps." She was too fatigued to banter with him. "I'm so tired..."
"Then sleep." His amber orbs blazed through the inky veil of night. For a brief second, Alice felt like she was getting sucked into them. As always, his eyes were calm and unreadable, but lately, she could detect another emotion hidden in them. Warmth spread from her chest and down to her toes, and his ever-present grin was as comforting as being wrapped in an elegant cloth. His hand reached out to touch her. He stopped it in midair, remembering her aversion to physical contact. "Ah, that's right. My apologies. I suppose I should take my leave for the night."
What happened next was absolutely mind-boggling.
Alice seized his palm with the speed of a bullet and laid it ever so tenderly upon her cheek. Her skin tingled in pleasure. It was a sensation she believed that was lost to her forever. "Stay."
"As you wish." His gaze, loving and kind, tangled with her own.
In the cover of darkness, their lips pressed together in an ardent kiss.
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Then it came.
What ensued in its wake were rage, hatred, and disorder.
The door to the drawing room was slammed so hard that it rebounded off the wall with a thunderous sound. How fitting it was as Alice stormed inside like hurricane as she sought out her target with the ferocity of a lioness. "Where is it?!"
Edith blanched, looking as if she was on the verge of fainting as the Liddell survivor strutted over to Mary with venom and hostility oozing off her in waves. The auburn-haired woman merely stood calmly in place with a smug grin. "Alice, what is the matter with you? Why are you so—"
"Where is it, you wretched creature?!" Alice ignored Edith to bellow at younger maid.
That conceited grin stretched. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to."
"Do not take me for a fool! You expect me to believe anyone but you had to the gall to come into my room, ruined my clothes and sheets, and stolen by my key?!" Alice screeched like a banshee. "Mark my words, Mary, that I will see you on death's row by the end of today if you don't give it back to me!"
"You've brought this on yourself, Alice, for battling your eyelashes like a whore at Mr. Kreiss," Mary lashed out. The jealousy she's holding in all this time was rearing its ugly head. "I heard the Master speaking to him before they left for lunch. What did you have to do, dear Alice, to make him bargain for you, hmm?"
"I've done nothing! Return my key, now!" Alice charged at Mary with the intent of tackling her down to the floor, but Edith put herself between the two girls.
"Alice, stop this! Mary, you, too!" Edith thanked God that their employers and esteemed guest decided to have lunch out in town today. Hopefully, she could stop any altercation from happening before they come back.
So, of course, Mary dashed all hope of that happening by making the situation even worse. "When did it happen, Alice? When did you start peddling your flesh to him in exchange for a better wage? How desperate were that you sold yourself like a common prostitute?"
"I find that quite laughable, coming from you—the Whitlock household's resident harlot!" If Mary wanted to play this game this way, then Alice would mercilessly attack her at full force. "You're nothing but a petty, childish, spiteful brat, Mary. You have done nothing but torment the minute I arrived here."
"A foul, hysterical lunatic has no place here to begin with!"
"Your opinion is of little importance to me. Give back what's rightfully mine!" Alice lunged, practically bulldozing past Edith to get the auburn-haired woman. Edith let out a horrified cry as Alice's fingertips circled against the column of Mary's neck and—
"STOP!" Everyone froze at the newcomer's tearful screech. Ida stood at the threshold of the drawing room with tears pouring down her red cheeks in rivulets. She was cowering like a small child who was afraid of the dark as she looked at the infuriated Alice. "Please stop fighting; Mary doesn't have your key!"
"Then who does?" Alice demanded, ignoring how Mary was glowering at the timid maid for selling her out.
"I-I..." Ida stuttered, now at the receiving end of the Liddell survivor's virulent wrath. "I saw Mary gave Reuben the key to throw it in Thames River an hour ago. I'm sorry, Alice, but your key is gone."
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Reuben never came back to the house. No one was surprised—or cared.
When the cook didn't come back that day, Fergus and Gertrude hired a new cook the next day, not caring in the slightest Reuben's reason for deserting. Seeing as nothing was stolen, the employers simply shrugged their shoulders and went about their daily routine.
Alice speculated it Reuben's "mysterious" disappearance was due to the fact that she would've painfully, ruthlessly, and slowly tortured him to death if he did return. She had it all planned out in her head, too. First she'd chopped off the tongue, yanked out the teeth, gouged out the eyes with her fingernails, ripped the ears, sliced off every finger and toe before shredding his flesh right down to his bones, and finally chomped off the rest of oversized limps.
Pity that she would never get the chance to carry it out.
A week flew by since that confrontation with Mary in the drawing room. The maids all agreed to keep their mouths shut on the incident, knowing that all of them would be punished otherwise. And so, the maids proceeded with their work as if nothing happened, saved for Ida, who now actively flinched whenever Alice or Mary entered the same room as her.
Besides Reuben's vanishing act, Cheshire also seemed to have evaporated in thin air. Alice hasn't seen him at all since they kissed that night in her bedroom. What in the Queen's name could he be doing? Fergus and Gertrude have been treating her cruelly—well, cruller than usual—ever since Cheshire made his intention of "buying" her to solidify the business deal between him and Fergus.
At dusk, Alice busied herself with prepping supper with Ida and Edith. As she gazed out of small kitchen window, watching as the sun sink beneath the horizon, a part of her—the one that has drowned in pain and misery for so long until it just felt normal to her—begun to think that all her dreams of ever grasping her own fate were really just silly fantasies—
The door to the kitchen flew open in a dramatic flurry of heavy footsteps, outrageous shouting, and high-pitched squeaks.
"Alice," Cheshire purred her name like he was tasting it on his tongue. "Pack your things and have the footman bring it to the carriage outside. We are leaving, now."
"Now wait just a minute," Fergus blubbered, his mien colored scarlet from the tips of his ears to the bottom of his neck. Alice slipped past him and his crow of a wife as the couple rounded on her imaginary cat with potent condescension. She ran up the stairs to the attic as fast as her feet would take her. "You cannot just barge into my home and take what's rightfully mi—"
Cheshire cut his moronic tirade as cleanly as a knife through hot butter. "She isn't yours any longer—she never was, to be more precise. You agreed to the terms and signed the contract. If there is any place Alice belongs to, it is by my side."
"But we agreed that you would do so tom—"
"I did no such thing, and I'll be rather damned to allow her to spend another minute your services!"
"Why, sir, see here, I—"
"Kier." Alice's honeyed voice beckoned him like a siren's song. Her right hand was outstretched, palm wide open.
Cheshire strode forth and took it tightly in his. "Well, then, I bid you good day."
As they departed, Alice giggled at Mary and Ida, their jaws slacked in shock as the situation played out as she waved goodbye to Edith, who looked with a mixture of happiness and worry for Alice. Fergus started clamoring protests and profanities while Gertrude stuck her nose upwards and huffed out, "Good riddance!"
Once Cheshire and Alice were loaded in the carriage, the coachman was given the command to drive off. For a moment, a thick silence hung between them as they sat on opposite sides.
The feline broke it with a chuckle. "Cat got your tongue, Alice?"
"I..."Alice paused, her emerald orbs glazed with a tornado of emotions. She was thunderstruck. To think she was finally free of servitude was unfathomable. In the beginning, she thought she should feel happier, but something prevented her from embracing the sense of joy, relief, and liberation she'd considered far out of her reach.
Somehow, some way, Cheshire could read her mind. A white box tied with a red ribbon was suddenly dropped on her lap. "I believe these are yours. Consider it my last present for you—for now, at least."
Alice wasted no time unknotting the ribbon and lifting the top off. Inside the box were two items, both of which that kept close to her heart. Clutching a golden key and a mangy doll to her bosom, Alice wept happily as beads of tears fell from her eyes. "Lizzie's key! My rabbit! But how did you—"
"Where did you think I was doing for the past week?" the cat snickered. "That Radcliffe wasn't hard to find, nor was it exceedingly difficult to break into his bedroom. As for the key, I followed that nauseating man before he disposed of it."
"Then what happened to Reuben?"
The impish grin broadened in self-satisfaction. "Why don't you check in the deluded depths of the river?"
"My, so you are capable for more than riddles and sporadic advice," Alice remarked with a grin of her own as she wiped the tears away. It was a lovely smile meant only for her beloved—a smile filled with promises to be with him forever. Her heart throbbed in her chest as relief filled in her.
"You mustn't underestimate someone who haven't shown you their full deck of cards. After all, you humans are complex creatures with untapped talent for many things."
Alice lapsed into silence again. She had to make sure her chance of happiness wasn't just another cruel dream, so she croaked, "Is this...real? Am I really free? Or am I going mad again?" Alice had to make sure her chance of happiness wasn't just another cruel dream.
"Alice, do you remember what I told you vanquished the Dollmaker?" Cheshire's eyes gleamed with surprising seriousness.
"That Wonderland was safe…for now," she replied, noticing the sudden change in mood.
"Your mind was steeped in pain and corruption for a long time. Our Wonderland was twisted, turned, and bent all around because of it."
"And I saved it," Alice retorted, a little miffed that Cheshire was bringing this up.
"That you did. But, my dear, your reality is full of sickening madness just waiting to enthrall and rapture your mind," he said with a sardonic tone. "Every step of the way, I have watched you, ever since you were a child. Ever since the fire, I've been a shadow watching over you and helping you from that horrendous asylum to now."
"And that's why you came here. To save me, as you said."
"Third time's the charm, or so the saying goes. Yet Wonderland couldn't endure with a third. The damage has been done. To safeguard what's left of our Wonderland, I had to make sure that your world doesn't erode your mind again. Alice, Wonderland is a part of you. Just am I'm a part of it." Cheshire leaned forward and pointed at Alice. "And as much as we wish for it, we can't turn our home back to it once was."
"But you said—"Alice started, but Cheshire clasped her right hand with his.
His gaze was intense. "But perhaps we could build anew."
"What?"
Cheshire let of her hand to gently caress her cheek. "My sweet Alice, the future is unknown, but now you a chance of the life you yearn for. In time, Wonderland just might be able to be restored to the glorious garden it once was. Not the same, but wonderful nevertheless."
Alice smiled serenely at the thought of having tea parties with Mad Hatter and the others as she once did long ago. "I would like that. My family is gone, my childhood taken from me, and I'm not sure what's next. Wonderland is all I have left—well, that, and you."
"You'll always have me, Alice. I'm a part of you and as long as you wish, I'll stay here with you," Cheshire promised.
Alice's vision began to blur with tears. "Am I really not going mad? Until a while ago, you were just a mangy cat that part of my imagination, but now…"
"What is madness but a word as way to define one's reality? People dismiss Wonderland as mere figment of your 'mad' imagination, and yet to you, it's a place where you go to feel safe and to play. What one perceives to be madness may be another's state of happiness."
"If that's the case, wouldn't everybody be mad?" Alice laughed musically.
"Indeed. We're all mad here," Cheshire Cat grinned from ear to ear at the beautiful sound. He closed the distance and cupped Alice's face in both of his hands, their lips inches apart. The sun has disappeared from the sky. With only the lit lamps and the moon lighting them in the darkness, Cheshire's orbs seemed to glow stronger in the dark carriage. Alice felt warm, soft lips touched her own for a long moments, and then they were gone. Recoiling, Cheshire smiled at her and gazed at with tenderness and love that she hasn't felt in an eternity.
"Alice, my wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness."
For the first time in a long time, Alice knew that the words of comfort and affection were true. Although cats weren't known for their altruism, she knew Cheshire meant it. They made her feel safe and loved, and gave her hope that she can have a peaceful tea party again in Wonderland someday.
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A/N: Like I said in the beginning, this fic isn't my best work, but I hope you guys enjoyed it. Special thanks goes out to my sister and co-author, Hana13, for writing out the ending for me since I wasn't able to find a good way to it. To wrap this up, I want to address a few points about some of the stuff found in my story:
1.) Cheshire's last line is from André Breton, a French writer and poet, known as one of the founders for the Surrealism Movement in the 1900s. The quote came directly from his book, What is Surrealism? – Selected Writings.
2.) For those who may have noticed, Cheshire's human alias name is Kier, the same human name 13HoursInWonderland used in her own American McGee's Alice fics. I've obtained her permission when I began writing this fic to use it. Originally, I wanted to choose a different alias for Cheshire, and I've looked up numerous alternative names for it. The most important aspect of the name was that the initials started with a "K" and must have a meaning behind it, because I like names with meanings. So, I looked at naming websites and got results like Kieran, Keiran, Kier, Keir, Kiar, Kir, and Konrad, but none of them really stuck to me like Kier. So, I ended up using it. His surname, Kreiss, came from Noel Kreiss from Final Fantasy XIII-2, and I mostly picked it because I thought it sounded nice.
3.) In the story, I mentioned that Alice hates being touched, and that she never allowed children in the Houndsditch orphanage to never touch her. That is in-canon information taken directly from the game. In Madness Returns, after leaving Houndsditch in the beginning of the game, go down the road leading to the Whitechapel Market. Stop by the alley where the violin player is at and go down into it. There, you'll see several children talking and playing, along with one catatonic girl facing the wall and reciting Hush! Here Comes the Dream Man poem. Approach the trio of boys crouching down near the girl playing hopscotch, and you'll hear the following dialogue between them:
"She ever work?"
"Where's her plaque?"
"Too good for company?"
"She don't get close."
"Hates being touched."
"Who likes it, then?"
"Never slapped?"
"Spanked, more like."
I know Alice being touched is something used all time in the Mr. American McGee's Alice fics, but I just wanted to point it out.
4.) While I know a lot authors give Cheshire the ability to physically manifest himself in Alice's world (for the sake of story's purposes most of the time), Cheshire's ability to appear in Alice's world and being seen is something that's strongly implied in the series. For those who don't know, a few fans that bought the first game, American McGee's Alice, which was released in 2000, were given an exclusive supplement casebook detailing Alice's time at Rutledge Asylum, written in the perspective of Alice's doctor, Dr. Heironymous Q. "Harry" Wilson. The casebook is fully published on the American McGee's Alice Wikia. It's quite an interesting read, and it gives fans a better understanding of the horrors Alice went through during her time at Rutledge. Moreover, it gives readers rather strong hints about Cheshire's ability to manifest himself in Alice's world. In Dr. Wilson's casebook, he mentions an emaciated cat who seems to be stalking Alice and trying to claim her as his own "private property". Fans who are aware of the casebook chalk this up to simply be Cheshire's counterpart in Alice's world, and not the real Cheshire Cat himself—similarly to how Alice's rabbit doll is the White Rabbit's counterpart in her world.
However, I don't believe this theory to be true for good reasons. There are only two entries that mentioned the emaciated cat. I won't post them here since they're too long, and can be viewed on the wikia. For readers who are curious about the two entries mentioning the Cheshire Cat, the entries are the ones labeled November 11, 1864, and December 8, 1873. Additionally, fans were given another supplement called the Letter to George, in which Dr. Wilson wrote a letter to a colleague named George, as a reward for taking part in an ARG before the release of Alice: Madness Returns. The letter and its content can also be found on the wikia. In the fifth paragraph in the Letter to George and December 8, 1873 entry of Dr. Wilson's casebook, Dr. Wilson wrote about a cat whose "countenance can appear almost human" and "bore a remarkable similarity to the one depicted in the sketches", referring to the sketches Alice drawn in her time at Rutledge, one of which was the Cheshire Cat lounging in a tree. Therefore, the aforementioned cat can't simply be a counterpart of the Cheshire Cat in Alice's world, but the real thing himself.
5.) Finally, the reason why I decided to write this was, as I mentioned previously, was because I wanted to help promote Alice: Otherlands, and there was a terrible lack of Cheshire x Alice fics. I was inspired to write the fic after re-reading one of my favorite books, Girl with a Pearl Earring, an 1999 historical novel written by Tracy Chevalier. The idea struck me because the main character was also a maid like Alice was in Alice: Madness Returns, and their positions of being victims to the desire of men. Moreover, I got really inspired after reading the original script for one of the shorts in Otherlands, specifically the one featuring Richard Wagner. Unfortunately, the original script was scrapped sometime during the production and didn't make it into the final cut. However, the script can still be viewed on Kickstarter and it's part of the merchandise free for fans. The original script opened up with Alice working as a worker at the London's Royal Opera House in the West End, and the head janitor kind of sexually harassed her before Alice is thrown in Mr. Wagner's mind.
