Ash remembered little about how she got back to the manor at Rock Turtle Cove. Hatta carried her part of the way, though she screamed and clawed at him to let her be, to leave her with Andy. He had restrained her until she had exhausted herself and her throat was worn raw. Her head pounded with the need to find Peter, to destroy him.
A muscle was twitching in Ash's eye. Her fingers kept tightening, imagining themselves around Peter's throat. Squeezing. Squeezing.
When they arrived at the mansion, her parents took one look at the blood and the dirt and the shredded gown and her dead eyes and ushered them all inside.
Her anger simmered beneath her skin. She looked at no one. Said nothing. Sent them all away. When finally she was alone in her bedroom, she knelt at the window and pleaded with Time until her lips were chapped and her tongue was too dry to go on. Surely he could turn back the clock. Surely he had dominion over her fate.
She would spare the Jabberwock this time, if only Andy would live.
She would let the beast have Mary Ann, if only Andy would live.
She would listen to Hatta's warnings. She would turn away from Mary Ann's cries and escape into the Looking Glass. This time, she would not look back, if only Andy would live.
She would do anything. Marry any king. Wear any crown. Give her heart to anyone who asked for it. She would serve Time himself if he would bring Andy back to her.
Her agony turned to fury when Time refused to answer her. There was no this time, no next time, no time at all.
No amount of bargaining made any difference.
Andy was gone.
At some point that night, Raven tapped at her windowsill. Ash sprang forward to open it – but he had only come to tell her that Peter had got away.
Ash fell on to the carpet, the pain knocking into her all over again.
Her rage split her open.
The night passed and she became a wild animal, raging and inexhaustible. When Abigail brought her tea, she threw the tray at the wall. When Mary Ann tried to draw a bath, she screamed and flailed. When her mother cried outside her bedroom door – too afraid to come inside – Ash snarled at her reflection and pretended not to hear her. She plotted Peter's demise. She swore on every grain of sand in the cove that she would avenge Andy's death.
It took almost two full days before she could cry and then, as if a levee had been broken, she couldn't stop.
Murderer, martyr, monarch, mad.
So far as she could tell, only one of the prophecies had come to pass.
Andy was martyred. Andy was dead. Andy.
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White Roses a.b
FanfictionI screamed loudly as the beast grabbed the poor Lion. I fell to my knees and cried. Andy ran over to my and knelt beside me. I looked at him and he whipped away my tears. "I'm so sorry, I put you in danger," he said quietly. I huffed and wiped my ch...
