7. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Alice
Hatter’s House-Present Time
M y eyelashes felt heavy as I struggled to focus. Dim light filtered through unfamiliar windows, casting strange patterns across a ceiling that curved and bent at impossible angles. For a moment, I thought I was still dreaming.
The events of yesterday crashed back into my consciousness—the fall, the impossible landing, the Hatter with his wild eyes recognizing me, claiming I'd presented as an Omega in this mad place.
I sat up slowly, wincing as my muscles protested. The bed beneath me was surprisingly comfortable, a patchwork of mismatched fabrics and pillows that somehow worked together perfectly. Like someone had assembled a nest specifically for me.
"You're awake." The Hatter's voice came from the doorway, low and careful.
I turned to find him leaning against the frame, his tall hat absent, revealing that mess of dark curls with threads of silver.
Without the hat, he looked both younger and older at the same time—more human, yet somehow more wild.
Those green eyes still glittered with barely contained madness, but there was something else there too. Relief, maybe. Or concern.
"How long was I asleep?" I asked, my voice rough with sleep.
"A full day and night," he replied, stepping into the room. "The transition is never gentle. Especially not for a returning Dreamer."
I glanced around the room, taking in details I'd missed before.
The walls were lined with bookshelves that bent and curved like living things.
Tiny glass bottles filled with colorful liquids sat among leather-bound volumes whose titles shifted when I tried to read them.
A teapot on the bedside table steamed gently, though I hadn't heard anyone enter.
"This is really happening," I whispered, half to myself. "I'm really back in Wonderland."
The Hatter moved closer, his steps light despite his height, and settled into a chair by the bedside that seemed to materialize just as he needed it.
"Indeed you are, little Alice." he said, his voice softening. "Though not quite the Wonderland you remember, I imagine."
I ran my fingers over the blankets, their textures both strange and oddly comforting. "It feels... darker. Hungrier." I looked up at him, searching his face. "And what did you mean about me presenting? I've been an Omega for years."
The Hatter poured tea from the steaming pot into a cup that didn't match the saucer beneath it. The liquid inside shifted colors as it settled—amber to violet to a deep midnight blue.
"In your world, perhaps," he said, offering me the cup. "But you haven’t been in Wonderland since you presented. Now that you are…” His voice trailed off as his eyes met mine, something ancient and knowing flickering behind them.
"Now that you are, Wonderland recognizes you differently.
It tastes your nature. And an Omega in Wonderland is. .. rare. Precious. Powerful."
I accepted the tea, feeling its warmth seep into my palms. The scent was unlike anything I'd ever encountered—wild herbs and something electric, like the air before a storm.
"But I don't feel powerful," I said, taking a tentative sip. The flavor bloomed across my tongue, sweet then sharp then impossibly complex. It cleared my head instantly. "I feel hunted."
The Hatter's smile was thin and sharp. "Often the same thing here, I'm afraid."
I set the cup down carefully, watching the liquid continue to shift colors. "Why are Omegas so rare here?" I asked, tugging the blankets closer around me. "And why does it matter so much?"
The Hatter’s fingers tapped a restless rhythm against his knee, “There was a plague about fifty years ago and the Omegas were the ones getting sick…now there aren’t many left.”
His eyes flashed a gold color before back to his green, “And now to have an Omega is an honor. To have one makes Alpha’s instincts calm…here and wonderland we are all a little more feral than what you are used to.”
I shivered at the word "feral," feeling its weight press down around me. It explained the hunger I'd sensed in the forest, the way those shadows had moved with such single-minded purpose.
"So I'm what—some kind of rare commodity?" I asked, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "A prize to be claimed?"
The Hatter's expression darkened. He leaned forward, the chair creaking beneath him.
"To many, yes. That is exactly what you are.
" His voice dropped lower. "The Red Queen would give half her kingdom to possess you.
The Duchess would lock you in a gilded cage.
Even the White Rabbit, for all his timidity, would try to stake a claim. "
I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the teacup. "And you? What do I represent to you?"
His eyes met mine, as he gave me a grin, “Well, you're my little Alice of course. Not someone I would try to claim as a mate. I would say more….a daughter.”
The Hatter's words hung in the air between us, settling over my skin like a familiar blanket. A daughter. Not a possession. Not a prize. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"Thank you," I said softly, not entirely sure what I was thanking him for—the protection, the honesty, or just the simple acknowledgment that I was more than my biology.
His smile softened at the edges. "You were always different, Alice.
Even as a child, you saw Wonderland for what it truly was—not just the madness and magic, but the heart beneath.
" His fingers tapped against his knee again, a nervous rhythm.
"You never tried to tame it or own it. You simply. .. belonged to it, in your way."
I sipped the strange tea again, letting its warmth spread through my chest. "So what happens now? You said I can't go home…” The thought of not going home did send a pain in my heart. Not being able to see those I love…but at the same time I never did feel like I belonged there.
"I'm sorry, little one," the Hatter said, his voice gentle but firm. "The door between worlds isn't meant to open twice. Not for Dreamers who've grown up. The magic... it binds differently now."
I stared into my teacup, watching the colors swirl like storm clouds. "But my life—my apartment, my friends...family" My voice caught.
"They'll wonder," the Hatter acknowledged, his voice gentle but unflinching. "They'll search. Eventually, they'll mourn."
A hard knot formed in my throat. I looked away, blinking rapidly at the strange, curved ceiling. "That's cruel."
"Wonderland often is," he said simply. "Beauty and cruelty, hand in hand. It's always been that way."
I clutched the teacup tighter, watching my knuckles turn white. "So I'm just... stuck here. Forever." The reality of it pressed down on me like a physical weight. No more college classes. No more apartment. No more lazy mornings with Mara bringing coffee and teasing me about my nest.
Mara. My chest ached at the thought of her waiting for a text that would never come. She had been my best friend, being there and understanding me more than anyone who thought I was weird.
"Not stuck," the Hatter corrected gently. "Returned. There's a difference."
I looked up at him, a spark of anger flaring in my chest. "Is there?
Because from where I'm sitting, it feels like I've been kidnapped by a world that decided it owns me.
" The Hatter didn't flinch at my tone. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, those wild green eyes studying me with something like approval.
"Good," he said, nodding as if my anger was something valuable. "That fire will serve you well here. Wonderland respects those who refuse to bow." I set the cup down with more force than necessary, the liquid inside rippling in indignant waves of purple and gold.
"So what happens now?" I asked, pushing tangled hair back from my face. "I just... exist here? Hiding from everyone who wants to claim me?"
The Hatter's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Not hiding, no. That would be a waste of your particular talents." He stood suddenly, moving to the window where he traced one long finger along the glass. It shimmered beneath his touch, like the surface of a pond disturbed by wind.
“You can build a life here…I will help and make sure no one takes advantage of you.” Hatter told me, eyes narrowing.
"I suppose I don't have much choice," I said, running my fingers along the quilt's patchwork edge. Each square seemed to shift subtly beneath my touch, warming or cooling in response.
"There's always choice in Wonderland," the Hatter replied, turning back to face me. "It's just rarely the choices you expect."
I swallowed hard, trying to process everything. My old life—gone. My future—completely rewritten in the space of a day. And yet... some treacherous part of me whispered that maybe this was where I belonged all along. Maybe that's why nothing had ever quite fit before.
"I'll need clothes," I said finally, gesturing at my mud-stained jeans and torn sweater. "And to understand how things work here. The rules."
"Rules?" The Hatter's laughter faded into a crooked smile. "Oh my dear Alice, Wonderland has patterns, not rules. Currents rather than laws." He made a fluid gesture with his hand. "But yes, you'll need proper attire. Something that marks you as under my protection, at the very least."
He crossed to a wardrobe that seemed to grow from the wall itself, its wooden doors carved with spiraling patterns that moved when I wasn't looking directly at them.
When he pulled them open, the inside seemed much larger than should have been possible, filled with fabrics in colors I couldn't quite name.
"Your old clothes won't do," he said, rifling through the hanging garments. "They smell too much of your world. Too... ordinary. Wonderland responds to the extraordinary."
I slid my legs over the edge of the bed, testing my weight on shaky limbs. "I don't need anything fancy. Just practical."
The Hatter snorted, pulling out a dress that seemed to be woven from midnight and starlight. "Practicality is relative in Wonderland. What protects you in the Tulgey Wood would get you devoured in the Queen's garden."
I eyed the dress skeptically. It was beautiful, certainly—the fabric shifting like liquid shadow, with tiny pinpricks of light that winked and danced as it moved. But it looked like something from a fairy tale, not something I could actually wear.
"I can't fight in that," I pointed out.
The Hatter's eyebrows rose, his mouth curving into a pleased smile.
"Fighting already, are we? Good. I'd hoped your spirit hadn't been entirely tamed by that other world.
" He replaced the dress and pulled out something else— a set of garments unlike anything I'd seen before.
Soft leather pants in a deep forest green, a blouse of cream-colored fabric that seemed to flow like water, and a fitted jacket embroidered with silver thread in patterns that shifted as they caught the light.
"This will serve you better," he said, laying them across the foot of the bed. "The fabric is woven with protective charms. Not my work—I'm better with metals and mechanisms—but a gift from a friend who understands the importance of proper attire in Wonderland."
I reached out tentatively, running my fingers over the leather pants. They felt buttery soft, yet somehow I knew they would be far more durable than they appeared.
"Who made these?" I asked, examining the intricate silver stitching on the jacket.
"The Caterpillar," the Hatter replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Or rather, what he became. Metamorphosis suits him—he sees the world through many more eyes now."
"The Caterpillar..." I murmured, memories filtering back—smoke rings and riddles, cryptic words delivered with imperious disdain. "He's still around?"
"Changed, as we all are," the Hatter said, his fingers playing with a loose thread on his sleeve. "But yes. He remembers you fondly, in his way. Said you were the only Dreamer who ever answered his questions with questions of your own."
I smiled faintly, tracing the silvery embroidery that seemed to move beneath my fingertips like living things. "I was a stubborn child."
"And now a stubborn woman," the Hatter said, eyes crinkling with fondness. "The stubborn ones always find their way back to Wonderland."
I picked up the clothes, feeling their strange weight—heavier than they looked, yet somehow lighter than seemed possible. "I'll change then," I said, glancing around for somewhere private.
The Hatter nodded and moved toward the door. "I'll prepare some real breakfast. Tea is lovely, but you'll need proper sustenance." He paused at the threshold, half-turned. "Alice?"
"Yes?" I titled my head to the side in question.
"Welcome home." He slipped out, the door clicking softly behind him.
Alone, I let out a shuddering breath. Home. The word sat strangely in my chest—both right and wrong at once...but maybe I could find a place here where I felt like I really belonged.