The story of the Jabberwocky that was never told.

“The trial is set for tomorrow.” Particles of moonlight drifted in through the window, reflecting rather poorly around the tiny room that comprised the prison cell. But even with the shadows and intangible lighting it wasn’t difficult to read your face. Your eyes were red and your cheeks, streaked with grimy tears and the dust of the cell room. An unfamiliar, unsettling sight. In all of the twenty odd years that he had known you, Jin could not recall a single time when he had seen you in such a state of disarray. “The entire jury will be there, I think. And the Queen herself will be present.”

“As will I,” Jin said lowly. He watched as you took in a deep breath before giving him a little smile. A brave attempt, but one that did nothing to hide the quiver of your lips.

“Perhaps they’ll change their minds. The Queen may call off the execution.”

He nodded. “Yes, there’s still a chance. We mustn’t give up yet.” But the words were heavy, laying on his tongue with considerable more weight as lies than the truth. Because no matter how much he wanted to wish otherwise, there was only so long that he could ignore the cruel reality for. It was simply that neither of you possessed the courage to voice the actual truth: the execution would not be called off. Yes, the trial would proceed as planned, and perhaps the court would show some sympathy towards your case, but nothing would change the outcome that was all but set in stone.

If the Queen gave orders for a beheading, heads would surely fall.

You gave a sigh. Soft and shaky, like a fragile little tree branch trembling in the void of winter. You opened your mouth as if to say something, but changed your mind and silently reached out for him instead.

Immediately Jin lifted his own hand, grasping your slimmer digits in his hold. His knuckles grated uncomfortably into the bars, and it was then that he decided there was nothing he hated more than those unyielding, almost mocking iron rods. It would be so easy, to snap his fingers and magick the door away… But that, again, was wishful thinking on his part. Removing the door meant a chance for your freedom, but it also meant the guards would appear and kill not only you, but him as well. And he was useless to you dead. At the moment, this was the best- and only- option Jin could offer you. You on one side. Him on the other. Hands touching between the spaces of the heavily barred barrier.

The second his fingers touched yours, you closed your eyes shut. “We live in Wonderland,” you said after a moment of bleak silence. “Where the unthinkable happens and dreams and reality go hand-in-hand.”

“Where a surprise is waiting around every corner,” he finished for you. There was no need to question your sudden reflection. He knew exactly what you were getting at. “Where Time counts backwards and Life never quite goes the way you expect.”

“Never,” you echoed faintly.

Jin tightened his grasp on your hand. “The trial may not go as planned. Keep in mind, they have no evidence to convict you. In fact, I’m almost certain that they won’t.”

Without a word, you turned to look at him. The corners of your mouth lifted up again, soundlessly conveying all of the appreciation for his support you were able to muster. But beneath the gratitude, beneath the shadows of the torches leering from the musty walls, Jin saw a sight that agitated him more than the false bravado you had put on before: resignation. Despite your optimistic front, you did not believe that the trial would end kindly for you. The jury would jeer, the judges would shake their heads, and the Queen, as always, would be granted her savage wish.

Heads were going to roll.




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Being the ruler of a kingdom meant power, and power meant one was often subjected to attempts of assassination by those who wished to overthrow and seize the throne for themselves. Unfortunately- or fortunately, depending on whose perspective you were looking from- it was a common occurrence for the monarch of the Hearts. Just the Queen, not the King. Nobody minded the King. All he cared about was polishing his coin collection, and anyway, everybody knew that the real authority lay in the palm of the Red Queen.

Sometimes it came slyly as a poisoned dish. Others, in the much more conspicuous form of a dagger wielded by an overzealous rebel soldier. As the resident warlock of the palace, it automatically rested upon Jin to be that extra layer of protection. The magical guard and whatnot, bibbidi bobbidi boo. Of course, it hadn’t been included in the job description, but he and the Queen had reached an unspoken agreement: so long as he did his duty to help protect her, he was free to use the castle’s vast library and indulge in his study of the magick arts.

Oddly enough, soon after he had arrived at the castle, people began referring to him not as the Wizard or some other conventional title, but rather one that was as strange as it was uncommon: the Jabberwock. He had no idea why. When he’d first heard it, he had supposed it was because his magick was a language only understood by him, seen as gibberish by regular non-magic folk. But he couldn’t be certain; he rarely conversed with other people, so it wasn’t as though he could ask. The only person he maintained regular contact with was you, his childhood friend and castle scullery maid.

When Jin had told you of the name, you had been greatly amused. “It’s perfect for you,” you’d said, poking his cheek in a playful manner. “A fearsome name for a fearsome sorcerer. Tell me, O Great Jabberwocky, what mighty spells do you have for washing dirty dishes?” After that you’d continued to by calling him Jabberwocky. But he hadn’t minded. If it were anybody else, he would have become instantly irritated, but not with you. Being childhood friends gave you the license to about most things, anyway.

He would never mind, so long as it was with you.

News travelled fairly quickly throughout the kingdom (especially when it concerned the royal family), but it hadn’t been until after you were thrown in jail that Jin himself heard the story. The Queen almost drank from a poisoned goblet this morning, voices murmured along the corridors. The food taster is on his deathbed now. It was that scullery maid who did it. Vile, nasty little thing. Impudent brat. She’ll be executed long before the sun sets tonight, you’ll see.

Lies, lies, lies, all of it, Jin had wanted to fire back, but he’d been too stunned by the accusation to say anything. What reason did they have to believe you had attempted to poison the Queen? He knew without having to see you that you were innocent. Nastiness, impudence; you were by far kinder and more gracious than the rumours made you out to be. You were only here, you had told him once, to work hard and earn money to care for your sick mother. That was all. Somebody had set you up. You were innocent, and he believed that.

But now, looking at the scowls and displeased grimaces of those attending the trial, he wasn’t sure that anyone else did.

One judge, one accused, twelve jurors, and one hundred attending in total. The courtroom was generally small to begin with, but that day it felt even more crowded than usual. It seemed that the entire town was present, there to witness the downfall of the treacherous “impudent brat”. Of course, it had nothing to do with their loyalty to the Queen herself (if it even existed). It was what the Queen symbolized that made the whole affair so outrageous, because how dare a simple scullery maid act out against the monarchy?

“She won’t make it past the night,” the baker predicted on Jin’s right.

“Maybe not even past teatime,” the seamstress said behind him. “Though with the Queen’s temper, I’m not surprised.”

“Nor I. Did you hear about what she did to the castle chef last month? Had his head chopped right off, no chance for a hearing at all. Apparently the carrot soup he made for dinner was the wrong colour.”

“How positively frightful! I dread the day when she comes in for a dress fitting and I accidentally prick her with a needle. Though I suppose this execution ought to appease her bloodthirst for a while. Better that scullery lass than me!”

The last comment had Jin gritting his teeth, but he managed to stay stoic and silent on the bench. He felt too restless, a tense, hardwired ball of energy that was barely clinging onto the ends of his fraying nerves. The night had been a nightmare to get through. He’d barely slept a wink, only pacing in his room like a clockwork soldier. What could he do to get the execution called off? What could he do to save you from an unjust, gruesome death? But no matter how much he’d paced about, his mind had remained empty of answers.

What was the use in being a warlock if he couldn’t use his powers to save the person most precious to him?

From Jin’s spot in the middle of the gallery, he had a clear view of you sitting rigidly in the defendant’s box. In the midst of the courtroom that was filled with harsh murmuring and frosty stares, you looked extraordinarily fragile, as if the very whispers would break your skin and cause you to crumble to dust. He wanted badly to give you a reassuring nod, but you weren’t even looking up. Your head was bowed and your eyes were cast low, preventing him from seeing your expression.

The Queen, on the other hand, made it very obvious as to what her thoughts on the situation were.

“Order in the court!” she barked from her seat on the podium. Beside her the judge looked terrified, eyes darting nervously around the room almost as if searching for an escape route. Though he could hardly be blamed for his anxiety. The trial had barely begun yet the Queen looked furious already, and there was always a heavy price to pay when she was angry. “Order in the court!”

The whispers died down as everybody settled in their seats. Scowling, the Queen snapped another command, this time in the direction of the frightened judge.

“Well, get on with it! I haven’t got all day!”

“Err- yes, of course, your Majesty.” The judge shot up in his seat. He was a small man, both in stature and in presence. Even now as he stood and glanced from the gallery to the jury box, one could not help but gat