Alice Spills the Tea - Beneath the Siren’s Crown

Alice’s spoon danced faster, the metallic rhythm echoing through the room like the ticking of a mad clock. Her eyes twinkled with dangerous glee as she leaned forward and whispered, “Tonight, we take a plunge into The Little Mermaid Reimagined - Of course.

But forget the tale of love and sacrifice you have been fed. Oh no, my darlings. This is a story of obsession, betrayal, and the dark, hungry depths of the sea.”

She set her cup down, the liquid swirling like murky ocean water. “Once upon a twisted time, there was a mermaid who was not an innocent, lovestruck maiden. She was a predator. A siren whose voice lured sailors to their doom. Her world beneath the waves was no paradise, but a realm of secrets and shadows.”

Alice’s fingers curled around the cup, her voice slipping lower. “Our little mermaid, let us call her Syrene, was obsessed with the surface world. Not for love, but for power. She craved what humans possessed. Fire. Steel. Dominion. From the shadows she watched them, plotting to merge her realm with theirs, dreaming of rising as queen of both sea and shore.”

Her grin widened. “And the prince? He was no hapless mortal. He was a hunter. A slayer of creatures from the deep, stalking merfolk and leaving wreckage in his wake. Syrene did not fall in love with him. She wanted to control him, to bind him with her magic and turn him into a weapon against his own kind.”

Alice’s eyes sparkled as she continued. “When Syrene went to the sea witch, it was not for legs to walk on land. It was for a curse. A spell that would make her voice so powerful no human could resist her commands. In return, the witch demanded not only her voice, but her heart. Syrene agreed, certain she could outwit the old hag.”

Her fingers drummed against the table. “But the witch was cleverer than she appeared. The curse twisted Syrene’s desires, and when she walked on land, her heart began to rot. With every step she grew more monstrous, her beauty nothing more than a fragile mask hiding the beast beneath.”

Alice leaned back, eyes wide with delight. “The prince, sensing her true nature, played along. He pretended to fall under her spell, led her to believe she had won, and betrayed her at the final moment. In her rage, Syrene unleashed the full force of her cursed voice, dragging the entire kingdom beneath the waves.”

She lifted her cup and took a slow sip. “Now the ruins of that kingdom rest on the ocean floor, haunted by the spirits of the drowned. Syrene, trapped between forms, roams the deep, her voice a ghostly wail that lures any passing ship toward the same watery grave.”

Alice’s laugh rang out, mad and triumphant. “So next time you hear the sweet little story of The Little Mermaid, remember this. It is not a tale of love. It is a warning. Beware the sea, and beware the sirens who sing beneath its waves.”

She set her cup down with a soft clink, eyes glinting. “And that, my darlings, is a tale worth wading in.”

- Alice, Queen of Ink & Lore

✒ Pip’s Editorial Note

Before anyone clutches their pearls or their ship’s railing, a reminder.

This is not Hans Christian Andersen. This is not folklore preserved in amber. What Alice serves here is a dramatic inversion, a performance steeped in siren lore, maritime superstition, and the older fear of the sea as a place that devours more than it gives.

Sirens, in classical tradition, were never gentle romantics. T hey were dangers with voices. Alice simply followed that thread and pulled hard.

So take this tale as cautionary theater, not canon. The teacups rattle louder when myths are turned upside down, and that is rather the point.

- Pip, Editorial Desk, Alice’s Mad Tea Party