Fic: Making of A Red Queen.
Title: Making of A Red Queen.
Fandom: Alice in Wonderland, 2010.
Disclaimer: Don't own the movie, nor the story, nor the characters.
Summary: A oneshot fic examining the Red Queen and how she came to be.
Author's Note: Slight SPOILERS for the film. I wrote this after seeing the movie. The Red Queen was the character I felt for the most.
When she was quite young, the Red Queen, known as Iracebeth then, looked in every way just like all other little girls. She was an only child for several years. In that time, she recalled how her mother would braid her red hair and provide her delicious tarts to eat.
“Beth,” her father called to her as he rode his horse toward the castle. “Iracebeth!”
Iracebeth went running, braids flying behind her, the white ribbons she wore in her hair flapping four feet beyond. Into her father’s arms she would go when he returned from his travels. Every time, he presented her with a single red flower, its petals coming together to form a heart.
In nine months time, Iracebeth came face to face with her sister. The child was perfect, a shock of white hair upon her head. A temper rose to Iracebeth’s face when she saw how her parents doted over the tiny baby.
With fists clenched and face as red as her hair, Iracebeth stormed from the castle and vowed to never return unless the baby was gone. She spent days in the woods of Underland, hiding when she heard her father’s men searching for her.
The longer Iracebeth brooded, the redder her face became. Steam began to emit from her ears until her anger had boiled up so much, her head began to grow in size. Unable to stop it, nor bothering to care, Iracebeth stomped around the forest floor, hmph-ing and haw-ing with each step.
“Beth.”
She turned quickly, her temper ebbing away at the sight of her father, alone.
“What has happened to you?”
He approached her and Iracebeth stared up at him. Her father examined her head carefully.
“We shall get a doctor.”
The doctors came and went. No one could understand how the child’s head had grown. With the growing of her head was the expanding of her temper and the anger that accompanied it. Her parents did not understand what overtook their older daughter and began to favor the younger one more.
Their youngest, with her large eyes and beautiful white-blonde hair, held their hearts in the palms of her hands. She was even tempered, graceful, and never spoke out like her sister. She remained calm, quiet, a friend to all, which only caused Iracebeth’s jealousy to burn brighter.
“We know which choice we must make.” Her mother’s voice was soft and serious.
“But she is the oldest,” her father contested.
“But she isn’t the right one to rule. If she was more like her sister, if she was less of an overbearing woman-”
“We’ll have to tell her. We can’t let it be a surprise.”
Iracebeth crept away from her parents’ bedroom door. She knew exactly what they were talking about. Her sister would receive the crown over herself. This was not to happen.
Cheeks reddened and anger bubbling deep inside, Iracebeth made her way to her quarters. Upon entrance to her room, she slammed her bedroom doors closed. She went toward her balcony and stepped out into the cool night.
She held up the scepter her father had made when she was first born. It was her birthright to come to the throne and they were taking that away from her. She looked out to the dark forest where her acquired minions were waiting.
If they were to take away her crown, she would take away their lives.
“Off with their heads,” she commanded loudly and watched the glimmer as her deck of soldier cards began their march.
She didn’t marry for love.
Once the dust settled after her parents’ demise, Iracebeth soon found that she had acted too late. It was already in the will that her sister was to take the throne. That only angered Iracebeth even more and she swore her head grew two sizes in one night.
When her temper had cooled, Iracebeth knew exactly where to go. After all, she had borrowed the the cards from someone, and she decided if she wanted to overthrow her sister, she needed help. He gave her the Jabberwocky and she gave him her hand and subsequently, the throne as well.
After overthrowing her sister, Iracebeth became the Red Queen alongside of her king. But the marriage was rocky and didn’t work well for her. She needed everything done her way and she wasn’t good with compromise. The king’s life was soon ended and she ruled alone.
It felt so good to be in power and with the power came the fear. She was feared by everyone and it finally gave her the sense that she belonged exactly where she was. The Red Queen hadn’t felt that way since she was child and the return of such feelings left a painful pit in her stomach, reminding her that despite her new acquired feelings, she was still missing something.
To make up for the lack, she became even more brutal. She demanded something from everyone. They were all there to serve her and her alone. Loyalties to anyone else, especially her sister, would be met with much disdain and violence.
Even though her days were busy with games of croquet and looking down upon those in her castle, the Red Queen would find herself lonely sometimes. She would sit on her balcony at night, a tray of tarts beside her and a bunch of heart shaped flowers in hand.
She would wonder, in that moment, about love and whether it was worth it. Of course not, she’d always decide because no one would ever love her with such a big head and a shady track record to follow. Love was much too complicated.
Her parents had loved her once, but they were never able to cool the burning jealousy within her until finally, her behavior was so out of hand that they, too, feared her. She preferred it that way, in the long run, because she knew that if there was fear, she had power.
Love was powerless. It was for the weak. Love was hard to maintain, to keep. But fear was easy.
If you killed enough, swore enough, yelled enough, there would always be fear. One can instill fear with a simple off with their head. But when it came to love... to being loved... well... she was sure it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
After all, she would rather be feared than loved. Fear brought power, but love? Love brought nothing but love. It was a feeling, an emotion, a word, she was sure she could do without. At least, she hoped to believe that was true.
Fandom: Alice in Wonderland, 2010.
Disclaimer: Don't own the movie, nor the story, nor the characters.
Summary: A oneshot fic examining the Red Queen and how she came to be.
Author's Note: Slight SPOILERS for the film. I wrote this after seeing the movie. The Red Queen was the character I felt for the most.
When she was quite young, the Red Queen, known as Iracebeth then, looked in every way just like all other little girls. She was an only child for several years. In that time, she recalled how her mother would braid her red hair and provide her delicious tarts to eat.
“Beth,” her father called to her as he rode his horse toward the castle. “Iracebeth!”
Iracebeth went running, braids flying behind her, the white ribbons she wore in her hair flapping four feet beyond. Into her father’s arms she would go when he returned from his travels. Every time, he presented her with a single red flower, its petals coming together to form a heart.
In nine months time, Iracebeth came face to face with her sister. The child was perfect, a shock of white hair upon her head. A temper rose to Iracebeth’s face when she saw how her parents doted over the tiny baby.
With fists clenched and face as red as her hair, Iracebeth stormed from the castle and vowed to never return unless the baby was gone. She spent days in the woods of Underland, hiding when she heard her father’s men searching for her.
The longer Iracebeth brooded, the redder her face became. Steam began to emit from her ears until her anger had boiled up so much, her head began to grow in size. Unable to stop it, nor bothering to care, Iracebeth stomped around the forest floor, hmph-ing and haw-ing with each step.
“Beth.”
She turned quickly, her temper ebbing away at the sight of her father, alone.
“What has happened to you?”
He approached her and Iracebeth stared up at him. Her father examined her head carefully.
“We shall get a doctor.”
The doctors came and went. No one could understand how the child’s head had grown. With the growing of her head was the expanding of her temper and the anger that accompanied it. Her parents did not understand what overtook their older daughter and began to favor the younger one more.
Their youngest, with her large eyes and beautiful white-blonde hair, held their hearts in the palms of her hands. She was even tempered, graceful, and never spoke out like her sister. She remained calm, quiet, a friend to all, which only caused Iracebeth’s jealousy to burn brighter.
“We know which choice we must make.” Her mother’s voice was soft and serious.
“But she is the oldest,” her father contested.
“But she isn’t the right one to rule. If she was more like her sister, if she was less of an overbearing woman-”
“We’ll have to tell her. We can’t let it be a surprise.”
Iracebeth crept away from her parents’ bedroom door. She knew exactly what they were talking about. Her sister would receive the crown over herself. This was not to happen.
Cheeks reddened and anger bubbling deep inside, Iracebeth made her way to her quarters. Upon entrance to her room, she slammed her bedroom doors closed. She went toward her balcony and stepped out into the cool night.
She held up the scepter her father had made when she was first born. It was her birthright to come to the throne and they were taking that away from her. She looked out to the dark forest where her acquired minions were waiting.
If they were to take away her crown, she would take away their lives.
“Off with their heads,” she commanded loudly and watched the glimmer as her deck of soldier cards began their march.
She didn’t marry for love.
Once the dust settled after her parents’ demise, Iracebeth soon found that she had acted too late. It was already in the will that her sister was to take the throne. That only angered Iracebeth even more and she swore her head grew two sizes in one night.
When her temper had cooled, Iracebeth knew exactly where to go. After all, she had borrowed the the cards from someone, and she decided if she wanted to overthrow her sister, she needed help. He gave her the Jabberwocky and she gave him her hand and subsequently, the throne as well.
After overthrowing her sister, Iracebeth became the Red Queen alongside of her king. But the marriage was rocky and didn’t work well for her. She needed everything done her way and she wasn’t good with compromise. The king’s life was soon ended and she ruled alone.
It felt so good to be in power and with the power came the fear. She was feared by everyone and it finally gave her the sense that she belonged exactly where she was. The Red Queen hadn’t felt that way since she was child and the return of such feelings left a painful pit in her stomach, reminding her that despite her new acquired feelings, she was still missing something.
To make up for the lack, she became even more brutal. She demanded something from everyone. They were all there to serve her and her alone. Loyalties to anyone else, especially her sister, would be met with much disdain and violence.
Even though her days were busy with games of croquet and looking down upon those in her castle, the Red Queen would find herself lonely sometimes. She would sit on her balcony at night, a tray of tarts beside her and a bunch of heart shaped flowers in hand.
She would wonder, in that moment, about love and whether it was worth it. Of course not, she’d always decide because no one would ever love her with such a big head and a shady track record to follow. Love was much too complicated.
Her parents had loved her once, but they were never able to cool the burning jealousy within her until finally, her behavior was so out of hand that they, too, feared her. She preferred it that way, in the long run, because she knew that if there was fear, she had power.
Love was powerless. It was for the weak. Love was hard to maintain, to keep. But fear was easy.
If you killed enough, swore enough, yelled enough, there would always be fear. One can instill fear with a simple off with their head. But when it came to love... to being loved... well... she was sure it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
After all, she would rather be feared than loved. Fear brought power, but love? Love brought nothing but love. It was a feeling, an emotion, a word, she was sure she could do without. At least, she hoped to believe that was true.