“It’s quite a nice afternoon for a cup of tea, don’t you think?” said the Hatter to the Hare. “Quite a nice after noon indeed.”

The Hare, a brown creature who no one could figure out why the Hatter enjoyed being around, just nodded his head. See, the Hare had quite a temper and had been know to take the Queen’s line of ‘Off with Their Heads!’ to heart. But nonetheless, the Hatter stayed by his side. Sometimes, the creatures around Wonderland told tales of the Hare bringing home heads for the Hatter to use to make his hats. Though everyone knew the Hatter had been put out of business by the factory the Queen opened. No need for a handmade hat when you could make dozens a minute with a machine. A lot of rumors went around saying that the Queen drove him made, not the hats. Never the hats, many muttered, the hats don’t explain his madness.

Now it was told a long time ago that the Queen had a thing for the Hatter. Of course, they were both younger then, she was prettier and he more handsome and sane. She was also known as the Princess and her mother, the Queen of Diamonds, ruled the land with a kind hand. The Princess of Diamonds, off delivering the tarts she was famous for, came upon the Hatters shop and, having never met the man before, wandered into the shop. The hats that were hung on the walls were well crafted and beautifully decorated. She placed the basket on the counter and found herself standing in front of a mirror trying them on. She was startled when, in the mirror behind her, a man not too many years her senior, appeared with a kind smile. He caught her, and his hat, before they hit the ground.

“My Princess, what brings you here?” The Hatters voice was sweet and kind and sent the Princess’ world rocking. She had never heard such sweet music.

“Y-You know me?” She stuttered, rudely staring at him, though he didn’t seem to mind. He was beautiful, long curly locks of gold, eyes so blue the sky itself was envious. The Princesses heart was thumping in her chest and she felt faint.

But he just laughed a cheerful laugh and placed a hand delicately on her shoulder. “Of course, who doesn’t?” Now the Hatter, as beautiful as he was, felt like a sow’s ear next to the woman in front of him: her dark black hair cascading down her back, her dark eyes as deep as the night, a smile so warm it could melt butter. He swooned, but she was the Princess after all How rude of him.

That was how it was the first day they met. Once she met him, the Princess couldn’t have enough of him and they soon feel in love. But she was destined to marry the Prince of Hearts and the wedding day loomed near. The Hatter, knowing there was nothing he could do, but too addicted to the sweet Princess, was at a loss. He had to leave her for the better of the Kingdom. So, finally, he told her that while he loved her, her destiny was not with him and he sent her home. Every day, even after her marriage, she showed up at his door, begging to have him back. Finally, his weak heart gave in.

Their affair was no news to the people of Wonderland, but it was news to the Prince when he caught them together. The Prince came alone to the Hatters shop just as the sunset. The Hatter, already in his pajamas, was at the Princes’ call and followed him around the shop like an obedient puppy. The Prince turned on the Hatter and offered him a job as the Royal Hatter, creating the crowns they wore and other such business. But there was one condition: he was to never see the Princess again as anything but a royal servant. The Hatter, too wound up in the offer, accepted. The very next day, the Hatter sent the Queen home, telling her there was nothing for them. In her fury of being sent away from him, told him she never loved him, never needed him or his company then turned and stormed out of the hat shop and back to the castle.

The Hatter fell into a catatonic state, his shop remaining closed for days that turned into weeks. The Princess kept telling herself the lie of never loving the stupid Hatter and became cold and bitter as her mind accepted it as truth, her heart broken. Her mother died and she and her husband became the King and Queen of Hearts, though the Queen’s was only a title as she had no heart left in her silent, black hole of a chest.

The Hatter, on the other hand, left his shop one day and wandered, coming across a wonderful set up that seemed fit for a party. There the Hare and his pet Mouse were celebrating.

The years passed and the Hatter lost himself completely, as had the Queen.

“Quite a lovely day” the Mouse muttered from inside one of the many tea kettles. What a trio they really made. Suddenly the Hatter arose from his seat, a stubby finger shoved into the air, a determined look on his face.

“I want tarts!” he announced. “The unbirthday shall not continue without tarts!”

“Tarts, he says” the spout muttered in a dreamy, drunk voice. “Tarts for the Hatter, tarts from the Queen.”

The Hatter nodded. “Exactly what I planned! Tarts from the Queen!” Though as none of them knew, the Queen had quit making tarts and loathed tarts and anything else that had to do with the Hatter. Hence the hat making machine. The Hare jumped to his feet, grabbing the tea pot and marching with the Hatter in toe, to the castle. The Hatter wanted tarts and tarts he would get.

“We demand tarts from the Queen! Queen made tarts!” the Hare yelled as he walked down the street. The shops around him began closing and locking door and shutters; mothers pulled children in doorways and soon, there was no traffic to be seen.

“Tarts from the Queen!” The Hatter announced with his finger in the air again. The trio marched to the castle gates and pounded as hard as their fists could pound, making a ruckus and interrupting the Queens’ croquet game.

“Off with their heads!” She yelled into the air, and the words were heard all around the town. The Hare looked to the Hatter and the Hatter returned the look.

“Tarts” they said together with a confirming nod. The doors they stood at swung open and a deck of cards grabbed then, dragging them into the court and to the Queens feet.

“We demand tarts!” the Hare yelled, looking viscously at the Queen. She took a few steps back and gulped. She had come face to face with the only other creature to enjoy beheadings.

“Off with their heads!” She yelled, her voice cracking from fear. The King, who came to her knees, seconded the demand.

“Tarts” the Hatter muttered, snapping his fingers in dismay. The Queens face became livid when she heard the all too familiar voice. Her eyes welled up with what she thought was long dead emotion. She turned and fled the court, and thusly narrowly avoiding the commotion to get a hold of the Hare.

A few days later, the Hare sat munching on some store bought tarts as the Hatter ran his fingers thru the black hair of the head in front of him, a glorious cake shaped hat sitting next to him on the table. “Ah, such a lovely unbirthday!” He announced, setting the hat upon the wide eyed Queens head. “Isnt it my love?” He lifted the head and carried it into the house.