Y/N

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AFTER HEARING THAT I WAS THE GIRL FROM THE PROPHECY, all four boys rejoiced at the news.

But a pang of guilt hit me when I realized they foolishly believed my lies. I really didn't want to, but my selfishness got the better of me, and honestly—how hard could killing a Jabberwocky be? All I had to do was grab a sword and stick it at the creature, and I've got plenty of smuggled fencing training to make up for it.

But still...what if I was underestimating this whole thing?

That feeling washed away as soon as Louis invited me to his house for his daily tea party. I learned he had a very outlandish obsession for the beverage, and would profess it at exactly 3pm on the dot.

We had stumbled upon a beautiful forest clearing, rainbow streaks of light fluttering across the air and onto the aging, wooden table, while the clatter of clay teacups echoed through the branches and past my ears. The once-white table cloth was set slightly off kilter, while a boiling kettle whistled maniacally at the very center.

Louis dragged a velvet chair out from it's spot, gesturing for me to sit down.

"Daniel! Emma!" He said after I was settled, "she's here!"

I bit my lip, hanging my head slightly in disappointment. I had already met James, Oliver, Harry, and Louis, and now I had to remember two more names and faces. I was only social on occasion, and too many people introduced at once could lead to forgetfulness.

I was cut off by the sounds of running blasting towards where I sat in the forest.

"The prophecy girl?" An unfamiliar voice yelled.

It was followed by another. "Took her long enough!"

"Where is she?"

"Is she here for the party?"

My habit of guessing voices to faces was shattered once the two figures came bounding into view. The first name (Daniel) belonged to a boy with a beaming smile, tousled raven-hair, and bright blue eyes that were glued onto my face with excitement. He had two round mouse ears sticking out of the strands of his hair, making him seem like a half-woodland creature.

He probably was.

The second name (Emma) belonged to a girl, who was dressed in pastel-colors, her honey-brown hair falling in ringlets around her shoulders. Much pertained to Daniel's mouse ears, she had two rabbit ones jutted up out of interest. She looked like a picture-book drawing with that pearly smile.

"Daniel the Dormouse," Louis said quickly, plopping down in the chair beside me, "and Emma the March Hare."

"How do you do, miss girl," Daniel said, snatching my hand up and shaking it wildly, "we've been waiting ages for you to rescue us."

Emma grabbed my other hand, "ages, I tell you."

"You're much prettier than I expected."

"Yes, much prettier."

I could only manage an anxious chuckle, trying not to fall over with all the shaking currently taking up my arms, "t-thank you, I suppose."

Thankfully, Louis clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, swatting the two new friends away with his hand. They were banished to the far end of the table. That didn't discourage them from eyeing me happily as they nibbled on cakes and crumpets.

"Sorry about them," Louis said softly, snatching up the kettle and pouring a drink into the cup in front of me, "we've all been waiting for this day."

I bit my lip, "this day?"

"They day the prophecy spoke about," he clarified, this time beginning to sire the cup with a silver spoon.

"Oh. Right. The Prophecy."

I didn't say anything, just staring at him blankly. I could feel the prickle of guilt and regret starting to scratch at my neck. I shouldn't have done this, but now it was much too late, and oh, this place was much more wonderful than anything back home.

The people were so friendly, and they had parties, cakes, and no concept of time!

I didn't realize I had been frozen in thought, and the pushing of my cup on the table snapped me back to the present moment.

"Go on," Louis mused, nodding at the glass, "drink the tea, darling."

I blinked.

I was about to call him out for his term of endearment, but I decided against it after a split-second of thought. The dazed look he was giving me seemed to pick away at my usual hesitations. His bottom lip stuck out slightly, his eyes watering innocently, and I was....

...feeling something I shouldn't be feeling.

Go away you butterflies, I will stomp on you with the soles of my boots if you continue fluttering about like maniacs!

I could only muster a: "why should I?"

Louis' expression faltered, "are you saying you don't want to have tea with me?"

"No, I do want to have tea with you."

"Then have some tea."

Beginning to be flustered, I distracted myself by picking up the teacup and taking a large gulp out of the drink. Strange. It wasn't too hot, or too cold, and it had a flowery taste to it that tingled on the tip of my tongue like sparkles. Could tea ever taste sparkly?

My relations were thwarted by the boy's voice again.

"You're a curious one," he noted, reclining into the seat of his velvety chair. He had one arm resting on the wide of it, and his legs crossed against each other lazily. "You pretend you're all tough, but you break so easily when I give you that look."

I'm sorry, what?

I widened my eyes, "what look?"

"This one, obviously."

He stuck out his bottom lip slightly, furrowing his brows and putting on that dazed expression with watery eyes. Dang it. I didn't realize he was simply messing with me when he pulled that face. Brilliant. Now I look like I was so easily wrapped around his fingers.

"I don't break," I frowned, turning back to my glass, "I was only doing it out of pity."

This time Louis didn't respond, letting the dormouse cut him off (although, like Harry Styles, the boy looked nothing like his name—except for the ears).

Daniel gave me a sheepish smile, "it's okay, you can admit it."

"Admit what?" I frowned.

"Everyone loves Louis," he explained, waving around a cake in his hands, "he's something of a bachelor around Wonderland, so if you do find him attractive, it's completely understandable."

Emma piped in, "completely understandable!"

Um, well, now I need a good save. This was beginning to look rather embarrassing on my part, and I wasn't going to let Louis bask in all these compliments so easily. Speaking of basking, he was glancing at me smugly at this present moment.

"I do not find him attractive," I said quickly, denying it all, "why would you think that?"

Louis was now sipping his tea in amusement.

"Don't get so defensive," Emma giggled, "we're just pointing out the obvious."

"Obvious what?"

"That there's not a single person that can resist Louis' charm! Even if you do at the present, you probably won't in the future."

What was this, a dating show? The bachelor? The bachelorette? Why was Daniel fawning over Louis' attractive qualities (I mean not attractive qualities, haha, of course) and professing it so bluntly towards me like it was common knowledge.

Well, maybe it was common knowledge.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I felt Louis lean out of his seat, his hand grasping the armrest of my chair. His mouth was now centimeters away from me, but I refused to turn my head.

"I don't care if you fall for me," he hummed, his breath tickling my neck, "but just so you know..."

I squirmed uncomfortably, "know what?"

"I don't date."

God, I'm so embarrassed.

I was also slightly disappointed, although I definitely won't admit it, because I actually did find him incredibly captivating. There was something about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on. His wavy brown hair, his hazel eyes, the shadows of his cheekbones, and the arrowed shape of his lips—they somehow made him both ethereal and charming.

But like he said, he doesn't date.

And neither do I.

"Don't be so full of yourself, Partridge," I scoffed, lifting my teacup to my mouth, "I don't fall for people so easily."

Louis leaned back into his chair, but surprisingly, he didn't seem hurt at all. Instead, he seemed amused to say the very least, his eyes glistening with a devious thought. It was like he took my words as an offer—or maybe a challenge.

"Good," he smiled, snapping his fingers, "that was a test."

Emma and Daniel both let out a breath of relief, muttering things like 'thank god she passed' or 'didn't expect that', and it made me furrow my brows in confusion. The forest had somehow dulled to a quiet, the bird calls and howls dwindling away to apparent silence.

"A test?" I frowned.

"Yes, a test."

"What for?"

"Had to see where your priorities lie," Louis explained, picking up a spoon and twirling it gracefully in between his fingers, "you're here to slay the Jabberwocky, and we were worried you'd get distracted by silly things like appeal."

Oh.

I was wondering why they were all pressing me about the boy so intensely.

Now it all made sense, and I was glad I didn't give in to the pressure, or the flirtatious actions the boy would put on display. It was clear he was only doing it to be sure I was telling the truth about the prophecy, and...

I barely managed to pass.

But somehow I couldn't shake the odd memory of having his face right next to mine, his voice lowered until it was almost gravely and thick. Someone call 911, I'm dying over here.

"You'll be staying with me for the time being, " Louis said abruptly, "tomorrow we start training."

I was still zoning out mindlessly. "Training?" I mumbled.

"So you can kill the Jabberwocky, obviously."

"Jabberflocky..."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, right, sorry," I said sheepishly, snapping out of my daydream, "kill the Jabberwocky, yes."

Louis knew I wasn't paying attention, and the corner of his mouth twitched in curiosity, "unless you're already an expert at killing magical beasts, hm?"

Nope, I was not.

"Training it is, then," I nodded hastily, downing another gulp of my tea nervously.

Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself.

Louis got out of his chair, setting down his spoon and waving his two friends off. Tea time had apparently ended.

"Let's go," he said, holding out his hand, "I'll give you a tour of the house."