Unsurprisingly, it was another tunnel. At the end of the tunnel Blaze found himself in a garden very similar to the first, so similar in fact that for a second he thought he had somehow come through the very same tunnel as he had when he’d first gotten to Wonderland.
But it was a different garden. For better or for worse, somehow Blaze had wound up in exactly the spot he hadn’t wanted to get to. But this was nothing new.
Bright fountains gurgled in the centre of neatly trimmed squares of rose bushes, and immaculately polished stones fit together to form a pathway through the garden. More rose bushes, coloured red and white, lined the path as it led Blaze towards a few figures obscured by shadows, who were fussing over a tree. He assumed they were gardeners, and hurried over to them.
“Excuse me?” he said, out of breath from a steep climb up a hill. The three figures turned to him, their skin shades of grey and black. Their eyes were crimson, but they didn't seem hostile. They seemed distressed. The tree itself looked to be covered with large white roses, as if they were growing directly on the tree. But that wouldn’t make sense, right? Wrong.
“It’s not what it looks like!” the first exclaimed, hiding what looked like a paintbrush behind their back.
“Oh,” said Blaze. “And, uh, what does it look like?” The other two Shadows glared at the first.
“It looks like nothing,” the second said harshly, speaking directly to Blaze. “Tell the Queen that we have everything under control. Wait, no, that sounds suspicious. Tell her that everything was planted exactly as she instructed and she doesn’t need to come to check.”
“I don’t--- I’m not reporting to Morganthe,” Blaze said hotly. “But I guess I am here to see her. Why are you painting those roses?”
“How did he know?” the first Shadow said under their breath to the third, cursing. The third just looked disappointed.
“These are white roses. The Queen wanted red. So we’re painting them,” the third filled him in.452Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLIfNq9VbUW
“That’s… so dumb it’s actually smart,” Blaze commemorated. The second Shadow regarded him with newfound interest.452Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡskB4jHCwbM
“You said you were here to see the Queen?” they asked.
Blaze answered, “Yeah, I am. Where is she?”
“On that hill over there.” The first Shadow pointed up at the crest of a nearby hill. Blaze followed their gaze, his eyes landing on an entourage of Shadows surrounding an imposing-looking woman who could only be Morganthe.
Morganthe was carrying a croquet mallet, her long black hair topped with a gleaming crown as she strode through a crowd of adoring subjects. Upon closer inspection, the subjects, all Shadows like the three standing next to Blaze, seemed more terrified than adoring, but whether Morganthe cared or even noticed was unclear.
The Queen had been making her way through a croquet course, but when she noticed Blaze and the three gardeners standing underneath the rose tree, she shoved the mallet at the nearest Shadow and retrieved a sceptre from another who had been carefully carrying it upon a velvety purple pillow. The group began to march down the hill towards Blaze with Morganthe at its head.
Alarmed, Blaze turned to ask what was going on to the three Shadows, but when he did he found all of them laying flat on the ground with their faces in the dirt, and quite still. He pondered if he should do the same, but decided not to as he did need to speak to the Queen and frankly didn’t fancy the idea of throwing himself to the ground before her.
The procession stopped before him, (and the Shadows on the ground) allowing Blaze to get a closer glimpse at the Shadows surrounding her. Most were holding various croquet supplies, but some, Blaze noted nervously, were carrying swords and other weapons. Guards, he guessed.
Uneasily, Blaze remembered what Luke had said about the Queen’s tendency to execute people, and inched backwards a step.
“Who are you?” Morganthe said, wrinkling her nose at him. Blaze raised an eyebrow incredulously.
“I’m Blaze,” he said, crossing his arms. One of the Shadows cleared their throat. “Uh, Your Majesty. I’m Blaze, Your Majesty.”
“And who are these?” She indicated the Shadows lying around the tree.
“How should I know?” Blaze countered.
The Queen’s face began to turn spectacular shades of red as she spluttered, gathering her voice to shout a rather loud, “Off with---” She was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a small figure. An extremely familiar figure, with pink hair and silver eyes.
“Your Majesty,” Amber said timidly, “He means no harm. How about a game of croquet, to soothe your nerves?” Blaze tried to catch her eyes, but she was very pointedly not looking at him, her attention focused on the Queen.
Someone handed Blaze a croquet mallet, although he didn’t know how to play so he had no clue what to do with it. He was struck by the sudden notion that Amber had just saved his life from an angry tyrant. He wasn’t sure what to do with this information, whether Amber was an ally or an enemy, whether she knew who he was and where he’d come from.
Also, he was extremely nervous about attempting to play a match with the Queen. On one hand, he didn’t know how to play, so Morganthe would win, and therefore he wouldn’t get his head cut off. But on the other hand, he didn’t know how to play, and therefore would get his head cut off.
Lost amongst his thoughts, it was several moments before he registered the whisper in his ear.
“Blaze. Hey. Hey!” And there was that grin again, floating next to him like a set of teeth on a string.
“What are you doing here?” he grumbled, as Ethan’s detached head materialised beside him.
“How are you getting on?” Ethan asked, ignoring his question. His black eyes momentarily flickered towards the group, who were watching Morganthe take a shot at a particularly tricky set of wickets. His gaze settled briefly on Amber before turning back to Blaze again.
“This is not what I had in mind when I said I’d ask for an audience with the Queen,” Blaze reluctantly answered. Ethan tilted his head slightly to one side, pretending to watch the game with disinterest even though Blaze could clearly see he was just watching the back of a certain rose-coloured head.
“I take it those three tea-drinking buffoons persuaded you to come here?”
“You know them?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Guest of honour!” Came a shrill call from the court. Blaze stiffened. All attention turned towards him.
“When did I become the guest of honour?” he muttered. Ethan laughed, which was rude.
Morganthe stopped in front of them, looking down at Ethan’s floating head with disdain. “And who might you be?” He stopped laughing.
“Mor--- Your Majesty, this is Ethan,” Blaze introduced them. The black-haired boy was glaring at Morganthe with unhinged disgust, the Queen regarding him similar to how one would look at a relative’s unpleasant dog that had to be tolerated for a week.
She started, “Well, I don’t like the look of him. But he may kiss my hand if he likes.”
“I’d rather not,” Ethan remarked. There was much commotion around the Queen.
“Oh, off with his head!” she decided, waving at Ethan. Blaze wished he had been smart enough to lay down on his face below the tree after all.
A Shadow stepped forward, volunteering their sword for the execution, which prompted the question of how to go about beheading someone who currently consisted of a head and just a head. It was at this point that Ethan began to suggest different methods of execution, all of which were thoroughly terrible ideas, and so, in the end, no one could figure it out. So Ethan kept his head. And only his head.
“Your Majesty!” Blaze shouted over the hubbub.
“What?” Morganthe snapped, waving an arm to silence the crowd.
“I appreciate you inviting me to play croquet, and I get that it’s a wonderful game, such a good game, and you are so excellent at it, but the matter is that I don’t know how to---” he cut himself off at Amber frantically gesturing for him to stop from behind the Queen. “I have a request to make. Disregard that last statement.”
“A request? All right, go on,” said Morganthe, smoothing her dress.
“It’s about some of my… acquaintances. Kimberly, Jake, and Luke. I’d like to ask they be freed, and although I’m not familiar with the legal system of this kingdom I do believe that the punishment they received is much worse than the crime they committed.” He took a deep breath.
“Who did you say? Kimberly? I don’t recall what she did. Why wasn’t she executed?” she considered. “You make a very good point, Blaze. Bring them here! And off with their heads!”
“What?” he said, instantly regretting ever opening his mouth. Amber now looked like she wanted to repeatedly slam her head against a tree.
“Well, now you’ve done it,” Ethan said sarcastically.
Several of the Shadows escorted poor Kim, Jake, and Luke into the court. Their expressions varied from confused to relieved to what looked like disappointed, but definitely not surprised.
“Right,” Morganthe said as the three lined up. Blaze tried desperately to appear as though he wasn’t there, but Kim caught sight of him and nudged the other two.
“Where’s the judge? Oh, yes, right over here, please,” she directed a pair of Shadows, who placed an ornate chair down. Seating herself in the chair, Morganthe swept her gaze over the trio.
“And what did you three do? Make it quick, we’ve your executions to attend next.” Kim’s eyes snapped onto Blaze’s, a look of bewilderment written on her face. Blaze noticed that the blue-haired girl was still holding a teacup in one hand and a lemon tart in the other.
“Is that my tart?” asked Morganthe, noticing at the same time as Blaze. “Have you stolen that tart?” Her voice quickly rose and octave as she became more and more worked up. That wasn’t even their original crime, but Blaze couldn’t decide whether that was for the better or worse.
“No, Your Majesty! This is my tart. I haven’t stolen anything. You imprisoned us at an eternal tea party, remember?” Kim tried to argue back, supported by encouraging nods from Jake and Luke. Morganthe looked unconvinced, staring at them as if she could see right through their lies.
The staring must have been making her nervous, as a second later Kim took a bite out of the teacup rather than the tart, and only noticed the difference when she turned to Jake to comment on how the lemon tarts were rather crunchy.
Morganthe started up another string of questioning, to which the three friends took turns trying to defend themselves, which led to more raised voices until the crowd of Shadows had joined in, shouting their opinions into the fray.
Blaze stood at the edge of the court, far away enough to be spared from the quickly escalating violence, but still close enough to witness the legendary moment Jake grabbed Kim’s teacup and chucked it into the crowd, then tried to fistfight the nearest Shadow.
Ethan was long gone, and Blaze was about to follow suit and make a run for it while everyone was distracted when Amber appeared at the edge of his vision. She was waving her arm, trying to catch his attention. He looked up, and she tossed a bright red croquet ball towards him. Catching it, he stared down at the ball and wondered what he was supposed to do with it. Amber continued to look at him like he was an idiot.
Turning, he nearly tripped on the mallet that he had discarded to watch… whatever the trial had become. Which made him realise that he actually was an idiot.
Dropping the ball to the ground, he scooped up the mallet. Hopefully, this wasn’t harder than it looked.
Blaze rolled it forward towards the middle of the court, where he could still hear very loud arguing and the occasional sound of glass shattering. He bent his knees, grasping the mallet in both hands, surveying his target. Angling his arms, aiming, swinging.
It was a straight shot. He saw it as if in slow motion, the moment the scarlet croquet ball made contact with the back of Morganthe’s head, cracking against her skull. Her crown fell to the ground, followed by her sceptre, followed by a very, very quiet,
“Off… with his head,” before she crumpled to the ground. No one but Amber and Blaze had figured out what had happened yet. Amber sprinted across the lawn, though she didn’t make it far before one of the Shadows realised what Blaze had done and why the Queen was passed out on the ground, bleeding from the head.
Blaze stumbled backwards as a swarm of Shadows wielding very sharp swords descended upon him, each dead set on avenging their Queen. He whipped around, tripping over a wicket, slipping to the ground, the world around him growing darker, and darker, and darker as the Shadows closed in, enveloping him in inky blackness, it was so dark.
And then he sat up in a shock, the images racing through his mind, but he wasn’t there anymore, he was nowhere but where he belonged, underneath the willow tree.
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