A/N : Hello! This is my first posted fanfic in a very long time, be kind. Rated M for future chapters. IracebethxOC.

This takes place sometime just after Iracebeth took the crown and control of Underland. She had always been jealous of the beautiful hats the people in the White Court wore, and demanded a hatter of her own as soon as she took power.

I was inspired to do this after dressing up as a rather dark and gothic Hatter this past Halloween, and after watching how happy she was in the movie to have hats made for her.

Forgive me for my long note! It will be shorter from now on. Please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of part of Tim Burton or Lewis Carroll's awesomesauce-ness. I do however, own the mysterious Hatter of the Red Court.

Reasons for Rising

It was another perfect day in the reign of the Red Queen. Iracebeth opened her eyes to the bleak sun shining through her window. Just how she liked it.

Getting out of bed, her toes curled in delight at the coldness of the floor. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror above her ornate redwood vanity, then sat. Today she would have a new hat.

"Send the hat man in!" she demanded.

The fish in the hall could be heard swishing down the hall, while his reply of "Yes, Majesty!" lingered. She resolved to manage her hair before he arrived.

Iracebeth took a handful of frizzy red hair and ripped her brush through it. The result was hair that stuck out with even more frizz. She tried three more times before turning red with anger, glowering at the image before her. Throwing the brush on the ground, she buried her face in her hands. (Well, she did her best to bury it. Her head WAS rather large.) She huffed in absolute outrage and pure frustration. Her sister's hair, that eerie white hair, that soft perfect hair, was never so difficult! She always looked prettier than Iracebeth's.

"Now, now. No need to be so upset," a silky voice said. Her head snapped up. She had forgotten her request for the hat maker. (She'd been forgetting several things lately. How had she not heard him come in? He was worse that that heinous grinning cat.. Whatever was wrong with her head?..) But she suddenly realized that he was rather close, closer than most people ever stood to her, even her doting Knave.

"Just relax," he said softly.

Slowly and calmly, he worked the brush he had retrieved from the floor into the red mass before him. Iracebeth was too shocked to move, let alone speak. No one had handled her with such care before. She was quite dumbfounded.

"What shall we do with your hair today, Majesty? It can do anything you wish it to do."

THAT was enough to break her haze, and she snorted at the absurdity. "No it Won't. It never does," she firmly stated.

"Just watch." With almost effortless strokes, her blinding red rat's nest had turned into delicate curls at the hands of her hatter. (HER hatter? Her mind really was Going..) He lightly pinned the curls into a flowing up-do, placing the brush in front her when he finished.

Iracebeth couldn't believe the sigh peering curiously back at her. She'd never looked so..beautiful.. She shook herself from the reverie. Of course she was beautiful, she was the Queen. Determinedly, she grabbed a make-up brush, stained blue from repeated use.

"I wonder, would Majesty allow me to apply her make-up, as well?" The voice had given her a start. Her eyes shot to the reflection of the man behind her, then hesitantly to the brush she was squeezing. She loosened her grip, unsure of what to do. He took it from her with one hand, turning her face towards him with the other. Iracebeth knew her eyes were full of emotions. Shock, disbelief, fear. She only hoped that he wouldn't see them, or be polite enough to disregard them.