UNDER HEAVEN. OVER HELL.

A Royally Large Lie

Guilt. There was the only word for it, and it might as well be written upon your forehead in black in. For everyone aside the King himself seemed to have a questioning look about you.

You didn't know when this lie had unravelled like a spool of thread, or why you didn't confess the truth between your falling through the wardrobe and now in your newly given chambers. But it was done now. And you were left to steep like a soggy tea bag in your own mistruth. The clothes you were given were fit for royalty, however you were not worthy of them. Each brush of the cloth – luxury cotton and smooth silk – was like a burning snare to your skin.

As you sat in front of the mirror at a vanity: Sanded smooth mahogany cured with varnish and accented in pure gold, you stared intently at the reflection of a liar. In these clothes you didn't recognise yourself. And if you'd had given yourself a moment to not lament you would have believed the lie yourself. Regal. Honoured.

You straightened at the rapping of small knuckles at your door.

"Come in." You called, not moving from your place, snared like narcissus to your own reflection, tilting your head to glance into your own eyes. Lips. Liars lips. Convinced if you'd open your mouth a forked serpent's tongue would slither out with more lies upon it. Crazier events had occurred this day.

"Your Majesty..." Reepicheep's voice rang soft and clear through the cold stone walled room. You glanced at his small stature through the reflection.

"Reepicheep." You smiled sadly in greeting.

"Dinner will shortly be served in the great hall. King Caspain requests you join us."

You fell silent, looking back to the liar in the looking glass, a mournful expression on your face.

"Is something wrong?" The mouse asked, taking a step past the threshold and walking to your side.

"No..." You lied, and he could tell. For he hopped up onto the vanity via a chest next to it and lifted your chin with his paw.

"I often see myself to be quite a good judge of character, and, if I may, something tells me this is not like you."

This led you to question who you truly were. And why it had such a pressing hold on your chest. Had you been back home, you would have no problem with lying to others. But here, having been shown such kindness and hospitality upon first meeting, you felt rather uncomfortable. Rather heavy hearted and muddle-minded.

"No. It isn't."

"Then tell me," Reepicheep continued, setting himself down upon the top of the vanity, "Who are you back in your world."

He watched as you pursed your lips in search of your answer. "A cynic. And not at all worth the status of just royalty." It was no lie, but through the mouse's lens it could be seen as a doubt of one's true honour. Not a confession to the lie itself.

"A cynic you say?" He mused rhetorically with a small chuckle, "If i may be so bold as to say, but surely you were given the title out of fate. For it does exist."

"I'm not entirely sure it does. If it did I would understand where I am. Why I'm here. And what I have to do to get back home."

It was here you thought mournfully so of Alice. Back in that large house. Alone. Wondering where you were. Was she pacing the halls? Scouring the grounds? From your window you had a taunting view of the woods you emerged from. Wondering if the wardrobe had appeared again once you left its shaded woodland. If the world beyond that you had left was moving on without you. And how far you would have to go to reach it again. It left a sorry ache within you and had you missing what you thought you once despised. It had turned you cold. Distant. But without it you felt even more lost than you once were. The meaning was new now under these terrifying circumstances. Hollow was its old feeling. Proven wrong by a land you laughed at in letters of reminiscence. How had those people found comfort in a world that you feared and wished to leave? They were mere children. You were a fully fledged adult and you had a hard time gripping onto this reality and believing still that it was in fact real and not a concussed dream.