The Cheshire Cat's grin widened as he looked down at the boy who had just experienced horrors unimaginable. Despite the chaos that had just unfolded, the Cheshire Cat's voice was gentle, almost soothing. "Tell me, kid—what's your name?"
0202 hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor as if searching for something lost in the depths of his mind. "I… I don't have one," he murmured, the weight of his forgotten past pressing down on him. "I don't remember."
The Cheshire Cat's smile softened, a rare moment of genuine emotion flickering across his face. "Hansel," he said suddenly, the name rolling off his tongue with surprising ease. "Hansel would be your name. Do you like it?"
The boy blinked, his eyes widening in surprise as the name resonated within him. "Hansel…" he repeated, testing the sound of it. Slowly, he nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on his lips. "Yes, I like it."
The Cheshire Cat's smile grew warmer, his eyes gleaming with a protective light. "Good," he said softly, more to himself than to Hansel. "I'm glad I could help." Internally, he made a vow—a silent promise that he would protect this boy, this Hansel, from the darkness that had tried to consume him.
As if on cue, an older woman entered the room, her presence bringing with it a sense of calm and warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold sterility of the lab Hansel had just left behind. Her kind eyes crinkled at the corners as she approached, a tray of freshly baked cookies in her hands.
"Would you like some cookies, dears?" she asked, her voice a soothing balm to Hansel's frayed nerves.
Hansel hesitated for a moment, the memory of the torture he had endured mere minutes ago still fresh in his mind. But the sight of the cookies, the smell of the chocolate chips melting slightly in the warm dough, was too tempting to resist. He reached out, taking one with a small, polite nod.
"Thank you, ma'am," he said quietly, forcing himself to act as though he hadn't been brutalized moments before. He took a bite, the sweetness of the cookie a stark contrast to the bitterness that lingered in his heart. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the simple pleasure, pretending, if only for a few seconds, that he was just a normal boy.
The Cheshire Cat watched him closely, his ever-present smile masking the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. He knew what Hansel was doing—knew the boy was trying to hold on to whatever semblance of normalcy he could find in this twisted world. And though it pained him to see such innocence forced into survival, it also strengthened his resolve.
Mrs. Claus, unaware of the depth of what had transpired, simply smiled at Hansel, her heartwarming presence filling the room with a sense of peace. "There's plenty more where that came from, dear. You're safe here."
Hansel nodded again, his eyes watering slightly as he took another bite of the cookie. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe those words, to hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a place where he was truly safe.
The Cheshire Cat, watching the exchange, couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness beneath his grin. He cursed internally, hating the curse that forced him to smile even when the situation called for anything but. Yet, as he looked at Hansel, savoring the cookie with a mix of caution and gratitude, he vowed to himself once more: no one would harm this boy again. Not as long as he was around.
In the vast and twisted expanse of this accursed world, there existed a deity, a being so powerful that even the Cheshire Cat—mischievous, cunning, and feared by many—harbored a deep, abiding terror in his heart. This entity was known as the Man in the Moon, an omnipotent force that watched over the world with cold, detached eyes, manipulating the fates of all who dwelled within his reach.
The Cheshire Cat despised him.
The thought of the Man in the Moon filled the Cheshire Cat with a loathing so intense it gnawed at his very soul, an emotion that clashed violently with the ever-present smile etched into his face. A smile that was not of his own making but rather a cruel, cosmic joke—a curse bestowed upon him by the Man in the Moon himself.
That cursed smile. No matter the pain he felt, no matter the darkness that clouded his thoughts, it remained, stretching his lips into a grin that mocked him every second of his existence. He had tried to rid himself of it, had tried to defy the will of the Man in the Moon, but all his efforts had been in vain. The smile remained, as inescapable as the very air he breathed.
The Cheshire Cat's hatred festered with every passing day, a toxic brew of bitterness and fury. He had killed those people—those wretched, pitiful souls who had crossed his path—but they deserved it. They had committed sins so vile that the world was better off without them. And yet, the Man in the Moon had branded him with this cursed smile, as if to mock the righteousness of his actions, as if to remind him that no matter what he did, he was forever bound to the will of a deity who viewed the world as nothing more than a twisted game.
He feared the Man in the Moon, yes, but his fear was born not from the power the deity wielded, but from the knowledge that the Man in the Moon could manipulate him so effortlessly, could twist his very existence into a cruel parody of joy. That smile, that damned smile, was the symbol of his subjugation, the mark of a being who, despite all his cunning and strength, could not escape the whims of a god.
As the Cheshire Cat watched over Hansel, his vow to protect the boy as solid as the stars that glittered in the night sky, he couldn't help but think of the Man in the Moon. He wondered if the deity was watching now, laughing at his futile attempts to carve out some semblance of justice in a world that was anything but just. The thought made his smile grow wider, but inside, it only deepened the darkness within him.
The Cheshire Cat's mind returned to those he had killed, to the blood that had stained his hands and the screams that had echoed in his ears. He did not regret it. They deserved what they got. Yet, he knew that the Man in the Moon would twist even this, would find some way to make his actions seem petty or meaningless.
He wouldn't give the Man in the Moon the satisfaction of knowing his true feelings. He would keep his silence, keep his secrets locked away in the recesses of his mind, where even the most powerful deity could not pry them free.
For now, the Cheshire Cat would play the role forced upon him. He would grin, laugh, and dance to the tune of the Man in the Moon. But deep within, where the darkness festered and grew, he would continue to plot, to scheme, and to nurture the hatred that burned in his chest—a hatred that one day, he hoped, would consume even the Man in the Moon himself.