wanderamaranth | Possible Side Effects, Ch. 21 (Reply)

Summary: Jabberwocky blood is powerful, but has a short shelf life. Then, there are the possible side effects...

Rated: T
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Disclaimer: Don't own, please don't sue.

Alice sat for a long stretch of silence upon the ground within Jabber's now-empty field of battle. The faux Hightopp Hill had faded away, and she was now in a mostly-white expanse of space, broken only by the occasional grey swirl of fog. She stared at her hands, turning them over this way and that, as if disbelieving that the one she'd fought against had simply vanished.

"Where did he go?" she finally asked the Cheshire Cat.

Slinking up beside her, he laid his large furry head on her lap. "Away."

"I'm aware of that." Alice replied, eyeing him drolly. "Where to?"

"Do you really want to know?" he asked, and Alice thought about it for a moment before saying, "Not really, but I feel as if I must know. I'm the one that sent him on, you know. Seems only proper that I should know where the sending delivered him to."

"What an odd way of thinking." Chessur purred.

Sniffing, then wiping her nose off the back of her hand when sniffing was insufficient, Alice said, "That's your way of saying that you're not going to tell me, isn't it?"

"Absolem might be wrong about you. You don't seem that stupid to me."

Not pleased that the Cat wasn't answering her question about Jabber, she took the compliment from him for what it was, nonetheless, and in a manner Chessur would appreciate most: she held her tongue.

Finally, after what felt like a small eternity later (but was closer to just a few minutes) Alice stood and brushed herself off. "I need to get to Marmoreal." she said. Taking a deep breath, she appeared to center herself before opening her eyes and saying in a commanding tone, "I Perceive that I am within the White Queen's Great Hall right now!"

Nothing happened. She blinked at the still very much present whiteness, blinked again and rubbed her eyes vigorously. The result was still the same; she had not Perceived herself to Marmoreal at all.

"It's gone, you know."

Turning around to face a very amused Chess, Alice asked, "What is?"

"Tarrant's Perception. It lost it's hold on you, and therefore you illness did as well, when you completely and utterly banished Jabber's blood from your body. Good show, that, although now rather inconvenient."

"When I leave here I'll no longer be ill?"

Rising and performing a twirl in mid-air, Chessur said, "Physician, heal thyself, they say, and so you did!"

Reluctant to ask, but chucking her pride and doing so anyway, Alice asked, "Do you know how I get out of here?"

A flash of surprise darted across Chessur's face. "Why, you just walk out!" he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in both worlds.

"But I don't know which direction to go!" Alice said.

"I will find you once you're clear of Somewhere Else Altogether, Alice, and lead you to the Hatter." He dropped a wink, and Alice flushed. "But I must catch up with you. I'm not really here, you see?"

Puzzled, and not afraid to show it, Alice said, "You look very much present to me, Chessur."

"I may look present, that is true, but only my consciousness is really here. I evaporated it out and sent it on it's way. Dreams can be funny that way, you know. My body is still waiting for me in Marmoreal. I just need to pop over there, gather myself, and then find you once again, and we'll be on our way!"

Without a further word, explanation, or description of where he would find her once she was 'out', the Cat blinked out of sight.

"Ooh! That Cat!" Alice huffed. She looked to her left and to her right, but saw no differentiation between one part of the mist or another. Chessur did say this was a form of dreaming, Alice thought. Maybe pinching would help?

She gave herself a good pinch on her upper arm, and only received a sore spot and the threat of a bruise forming for her troubles.

"Well that didn't work." she said aloud, and in keeping with her fondness for talking to herself, continued with "If pinching doesn't work, then perhaps walking will. Forward seems like as good of an option as any." Taking her own advice for once, she began to walk.

In a much shorter amount of time than she believed it would take, Alice began to feel small rocks and pebbles under her feet, and to smell the fresh greenness of living things. Still, she wished the Cheshire Cat were with her, to at least sardonically inform her if, say, she was heading in the opposite direction of Marmoreal. Walking a bit further revealed dilapidated split-rail fencing and tangled vines. Soon she was clear of the mist completely, and Alice stopped to take stock of her surroundings.

A well-worn path stretched before her, just wide enough for two persons to walk side-by-side. Sparse scrub trees lined the pathway behind the previously noted split-rail fencing. Looking downward, Alice could see she was once again clad in her travel garments: the stained blue duster-jacket, the trouser pants, and the make-shift sling for her arm were all present.

"Never thought I'd be relieved to see a broken arm." she muttered, before shaking herself and walking further forward. Already she could tell what Chessur said was true, though: any lingering traces of illness were gone, vanished as if she'd never been sick.

She walked until she came to a barren crossroads, completely devoid of trees, fencing, or shrubbery. In the very center sat a road marker.

"Which way do I go?" Alice murmured, staring up at the weather-beaten and dilapidated sign-post. Once the directions upon it might have been clear, but now the paint was barely visible upon the slats, and several pointed straight downwards, which Alice was sure couldn't possibly be right at all.

"Oh, well! Isn't this all well and good? Another just stopping by, demanding directions from me, without ever so much as a 'by-your-leave'! Well, you can just forget it, young miss! I'll be giving you no directions, no how!" the Signpost said, startling Alice.

"Who said that?" Alice asked, looking left to right, as she hadn't realized yet the Sign itself was speaking to her.

"Me! Right in front of you!"

Alice swiveled her head, but still didn't see anyone.

"The Signpost, you blind chit!" it finally snapped, tired of Alice's dimness.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize-"

"They never do, or so they claim! Perhaps this will teach you to open your big blue eyes and show good manners to those around you!"

Peer as she might, Alice could see no mouth through which the Signpost might be speaking to her, nor eyes to see, nor yet ears to hear her; yet it appeared to do all three of those things just fine.

The mention of her eye color had her pausing as she thought-blue eyes? For the last little while, she'd gotten ever so used to everyone around her commenting on her green gaze! The Hatter's eyes, in her face! Yet now she only had her own, and it made her unaccountably sad.

"The only one I'll be able to practice my manners on will be you, if you don't give me directions!" Alice tried to reason with the Signpost, not allowing the emergence of her newly-blue again irises to distract her from her goal. It gave an injured sniff, but said nothing.

"You don't want someone as heathen as me around you for such a long time. For where am I to go, if I don't know the direction?"

Tartly, the Signpost retorted, "It doesn't matter to me, whichever way you go. Just get off my crossroads, dearie, before you end up calling someone nasty here. Last time it took the Rain three weeks to get the stains out of my dirt, and him complaining all the while!"

Looking down at her feet, Alice did see she was indeed in the center of the crossroads, and neatly stepped to one side. "Is that better?" she asked, no trace of sarcasm present.

"Much." Sighing in an abject manner, the Signpost asked Alice, "Do you ever feel as though there should be more to your life than just your duty?"

Started once more, Alice glanced about and said, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I should know better than to be philosophical with stupid human girls." the Signpost grumbled to itself, but continued on anyways with, "All day long, I direct others to these places. 'South to Snud', I say, or 'East to Queast'! Yet how do I really know that's where these roads lead? I've only ever been planted here. I've never gone down any of the roads myself!"

Wishing for Chessur once more, (for although he was a sardonic Cat, he was much less prone to fits of fancy than many other denizens of Underland, and would surely have her half-way to the Ha-to Marmoreal, by now!)

Cradling her broken arm against her side (and very briefly wishing she'd thought to Perceive her arm as whole while that ability was still in her possession! But she hadn'tthought of such a thing, as in Jabber's battlefield, her arm hadn't been broken at all!) Alice said, "And what Path would you take, if you able to travel down the road to Marmoreal?" she held her breath, almost certain such a simply gambit wouldn't work, but it seemed Luck was still smiling upon her.

"Why, I'd go straight down that there Ground Door, of course!" the Signpost said, as if Alice were very stupid indeed.

"Ground Door?" she asked, and watched as a Door materialized right underneath her feet, where before there was none. Suddenly the signs pointing straight downwards made perfect sense.

"Thank you, very much!" Alice enthused, grasping the handle and twisting it. The Door gave out from under her as the latch tumbled away, and she fell with a shriek (even though she should have been expecting such a thing).

The faint sounds of the Signpost bellowing after her could be heard until the Door shut itself, and Alice was still falling.

The corridor she hurtled down appeared as nothing so much as a pleasant hallway. Pleasant sitting-chairs and side-boards lined the walls, with the occasional portrait or framed landscape dotting the striped wallpaper. Looking upwards she could no longer see where the Door had been, and looking below afforded no clear indication of when the Bottom might come.

"This…" Alice gritted through her teeth, "is going to hurt." Wishing for the first time that she was wearing a skirt (that she could billow out to slow her rate of descent) she flung her good arm outwards, grasping towards a table-leg. She missed the legs on the first table, but on her second try snatched a chair-leg instead. Abruptly the downward falling stopped, and the blonde's breath whooshed out of her as she fell to the floor (the Proper floor, with tiles upon it and everything!), only by happenstance not landing on her broken limb.

Closing her eyes, she waited for the Room to right itself. Feeling nothing, she carefully opened her eyes and discovered she was indeed laying upon the floor, no longer hurtling down the endless hallway. Sitting up cautiously, and then standing when it appeared falling once more was no longer a danger, Alice once again took stock of her surroundings.

Everything appeared much as it had when she was flying past it. Serene portraits, elegant side-tables and well-appointed chairs sat against the striped walls at random intervals, with no doors or windows to be seen. How was she to escape this place, if there was no Door to exit from , no window to crawl through?

She carefully considered one of the paintings upon the walls, wondering if she would need to go through the canvas to the scene beneath; when she touched her fingers to it, though, all she felt was the coolness of the oils used to create it. Unexpected disappointment welled (for traveling via painting sounded like grand fun, even if she wasn't exactly sure what place it was that was depicted in said landscape) and she kicked the wall underneath where it hung, hard.

Plaster and lathe easily crumbled under the force of her blow, and the faintest sliver of sunlight poured in. Alice kicked the wall again, harder this time, and more plaster fell, revealing yet more sunlight.

Kicking the wall in earnest now, Alice soon had a hole formed large enough for her to wriggle through, if she was very careful of her arm. Sunshine and bird song were evident beyond, so she lay on her back and scooted through the hole, into the blinding afternoon light of the Tulgey Woods.

The former Lady Long Ears bowed low before Iracebeth, her pink-tinted white gown sweeping the floor. "Your Majesty." she said.

"Step forward." Iracebeth ordered, and the woman did so. "Do you have it?"

"I do indeed." Leaning down, she whispered into the former Red Queen's ear, and as she spoke, Iracebeth's smile grew wider and wider. Pulling a box out from where it was hidden in her voluminous skirts, Lady Long Ears presented it to Iracebeth was a small bow.

"Most excellent. When we succeed tonight I shall begin considerations on your Name." she declared, and Long Ears tittered appreciatively.

"You are too kind, Your Ladyship."

"I am never too kind!" Iracebeth roared, face apoplectically angry. "I am only ever just kind enough!"

Curtsying several times, Long Ears amended, "It is just as your Majesty says. Never too kind, just enough! Such is the depth of your wisdom!"

"Get out." Iracebeth waved her away, irritated. If she hadn't needed the woman, she would have never permitted her to keep her tiny, treacherous head, let alone be near her. Lies about the size of her ears, lies about Stayne and Um-Alice, she corrected herself-what else had Long Ears lied to her about over the years? Yet she was certain the woman was not lying about their preparations for the coming evening; she and Sausage Tree Man both had too much invested in the success of this venture.

They would see the night through, because if they didn't, and Mirana still wore the Crown, they would be Banished, and if they didn't, and Iracebeth regained her birthright, they'd be dead before the dawn. Yes, they were most motivated to see her happy, and she intended to keep it that way. Fear was, after all, the best way to keep Dominion Over Living Things.

Gathering her hated white skirts about her, Iracebeth rose from her dining-hall chair and strode towards her rooms. She had much to do to prepare for the rapidly approaching evening…her silver dress to don, blue heart to carefully paint on her lips…She must look her best, for it was not every day that the rightful Monarch of Underland reassumed her Crown from her upstart, treacherous little sister. She would not make the same mistake this day that she did during the Horunvendush Day, shackled as she was by sentiment. This day, she'd kill the betrayer herself, one way or another.

Making sure to do her toilette first, Iracebeth held off on examining the box's contents until the very last moment: she forced herself to powder her hair, dress, and apply properly dramatic cosmetics before reaching a steady hand out and opening the plain, battered lid.

Inside, nestled amongst surprisingly plush lining for such a non-descript exterior, sat a knife pistol. The main blades were hidden in the yellow horn handle, and she flicked them free, studying them dispassionately. Even with the longest blade free, the entire weapon was only seventeen centimeters long. She snapped the blades back, satisfied they were sharp enough for her purpose. Checking, she saw it was indeed loaded, and that another cartridge had been placed in the handle compartment should she have need of it. She slid it into the front pocket of her skirt, sewn in for this exact purpose, and studied her reflection in the mirror. No unsightly bulges, no hint of what was concealed there. Perfect.

Patting the weapons hidden now in her skirts, Iracebeth murmured, "Soon, little sister. Soon."

"It's a tree." Stayne didn't need to try to sound unimpressed. He was vastly and completely Not Amused with where Snellum and the two horses had led him and Geoffrey.

"'Course it's a Tree." Snellum snorted. "Couldn't very well be called a Tree Door if it was in the side of a House, could it?" Nodding towards the trunk (as he had already done twice before) he said, "Go on. Knock on that knot there."

Folding his arms across his chest, Stayne lifted his chin and sniffed in an injured manner. "I will do no such thing." he declared. "I thought you knew the importance of finding our Queen, but now I've found that you've brought us all the way back here to play a game." His voice became more silky as he said, "Do you know what we used to do to Mice in Salazen Grum?"

Prior to meeting the Mouse, Geoffrey had not thought it possible to see a rodent blanch underneath it's fur, but he was quickly discovering a great many things were…well, not wrong exactly, but…off, from what he had perceived them to be like. The Knave, for instance, was not at all like what he'd heard of him. Sure, he was a bit overbearing at times, (like now) and had a tendency to be rather pompous, (which was slightly endearing, especially when that shallow cleft in his chin deepened when he was inordinately pleased with himself) but he was not unnecessarily cruel or demanding.

Thankful for once for his game-piece body and features (which could not accurately display emotions or telegraph one's thoughts, as he appeared to be quite blank all the time) as he thought of the Knave, Geoffrey stepped forward, putting himself between the large man and the disagreeable Mouse.

"I'll just knock on it, then!" he announced, and was right back to wishing he was able to form features upon his face, as he would have smiled reassuringly then. Instead he had to settle for squaring his shoulders in what he hoped was a dignified manner and rapping a no-nonsense staccato upon the bark.

With a creak and a man, a Door appeared before them, just wide enough for Paricia's girth to fit through, and just tall enough that Stayne could enter without having to duck down too much. Geoffrey was rewarded for his actions by the Knave's slightly slack-jawed expression before he snapped his mouth shut.

"I knew that was there." Stayne obviously lied, and all save Geoffrey snickered at him. He'd been feeling uneasy about returning to Marmoreal ever since he realized that was what he was going to have to do to heal Alice, and it had less to do with his Banishment than might be reasonably thought. It had been almost two decades since he'd stepped foot in Marmoreal, and the last time he'd been there, he hadn't exactly been welcomed with open arms. He doubted that Time and Circumstances would have changed that over-much, especially considering he did not have Queen Alice with him to smooth away any problems that were bound to occur.

"Of course you did!" Snellum said. "Just like you knew the stream Bablunbruk had turned into the river Bablunbruk, but didn't tell us, hmm?" The reference was to the river they had been unable to cross, and Geoffrey felt compelled to intervene once more.

"We are here now, yes? Let us enter the Room and then go to Marmoreal beyond. If what the Knave has said is true, my Queen may even now be under attack. I must assist in any way I am capable; I have sworn an Oath."

The horses whuffled their agreement, and without allowing any of the others present to protest, clomped into the Room of Doors. Stayne needed to duck his head rather quickly to avoid hitting it off the top of the Tree Door jam, and manfully fought the urge to smack Parick's head in reproach.

"Which Door now, Snellum?" he asked once they were inside. If he'd been inclined to speak them, Words would not have properly expressed how very much he did not want to continue on; yet for his Queen, and the sake of the Vows he had spoken before Underland itself, he felt he must press forward.

The Mouse hopped down from where he'd been perched atop of Parick's head and sat in the center of the Room, surveying each door carefully. Finally he stopped in front of one with a rounded top and an ornate handle. "This one." he said. "I'm certain of it."

"Let us not wait any longer, then." the dark-haired man replied, shooting a glance at Geoffrey. "As the Pawnsays, even now Marmoreal may be under attack. And if Mirana dies, who will help us find Queen Alice?"

It was with that dubious expression of concern that the Knave twisted the handle, opened the Door, and stepped into the realm of Marmoreal for the first time in nearly twenty years.

"Your Majesty? Lady Mirana?"

The Hatter gently shook his Queen's shoulder, and she moaned softly. "Is it Time?" she asked, voice a whisper.

"I am afraid so. Although he really should have more consideration for you, my Lady. After all, you just went through a terrible ordeal-I should know, I went through it myself! Yet here we are, with Time marching determinedly forward. Are you able to stand?"

"It is not a matter in which I have an option, friend. No, don't help me!" she said, weakly waving Hatter away when he stepped forward to assist her. "I will need to enter the Hall on my own, and receive Petitions on my own. This will be good practice!" A smile, tight but genuine, crossed her lips. "Thank you, Hatta."

Tarrant and Mally watched as the Queen carefully rose to her feet, teetering only briefly before steadying herself. Pride in his Monarch swelled in the Hatter's chest as he watched her practice walking about the room, working up to her usual graceful slide. Between meditating to speak to Underland and undergoing Chessur's special 'treatment' to purge them of Jabber's blood, he knew Mirana had to be exhausted; yet still she focused insisted on seeing her subjects that night, simply because she promised to do so.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty." he said impulsively, and she paused mid-step and turned a full-rotation to face him.

"Whatever for?" she asked, honestly puzzled. The light pink that usually ringed her eyes was a bit darker than usual, but still safely far away from fuchsia.

"For behaving the way I did, when you…made your suggestion. I realize now that you may have to do things which you find undesirable to ensure the welfare of Underland, and-"

"Oh, Tarrant." Mirana sighed. At this rate, the man would never realize that what she wanted from him and Alice was much more than the simple fulfillment of the demands of Underland. He had lost his own family in a horrendous manner; surely he should be able to see that she was asking him to build a new one with she and her Champion? "Would that I could have this conversation with you at another time? I really do need to prepare." Desperate for a way to distract him, she said, "Has Chessur returned yet?"

Darkness flickered across his face, and Mirana wished she could take back her words. "No." the Hatter said, and although the tone was low and mournful, it was not said with any trace of the brogue. The Badness was not present here. Carefully she stroked the side of his face, and he looked up at her, blinking, returning to attention from thoughts far away.

"She will return to us, Hatta." the White Queen soothed, the statement fully believed. She could not-would not!-allow herself to worry, or be distracted by Alice's fate tonight. The courtiers had been restless lately, and Mirana could not help but correlate their agitation with the sudden re-appearance of her sister. As much as she would like to believe that Iracebeth had completely changed during her brief Banishment, the Queen couldn't suppress the instinct that told her that a woman mad enough to kill her husband, to attempt to kill her own children (she couldn't suppress a shudder at such an abhorrent thing) would not so easily alter her way of thinking.

It would do none of them any good at all if Alice were to survive her battle with the Jabberwocky in Somewhere Else Altogether, only to return to Marmoreal and discover that Iracebeth once again sat on the throne of Underland. If that were to happen, and Iracebeth realized that Alice was now a Queen in her own right…Mirana shuddered again, more intensely this time.

"Are you certain you're up to this, Your Majesty?" Mally asked, small black eyes gleaming in concern.

"Yes." There was no hesitation in her voice. "I would consider it a personal favor if you would help me tidy my hair, however. I seem to have gotten it hopelessly tangled."

Despite her mixed feelings for Mirana's recent behavior, (and general loathing of beautification rituals) the Dormouse couldn't help but to be honored that the Queen was asking for her assistance. "Give me but a few minutes, your Highness, and your hair will be right as Rain again!"

A small smile stretched the Hatter's lips as he lisped, in an attempt at his usual playfulness, "Mally, don't be silly. Rain is hardly ever right; he's just terribly self-important!"

Reaching out with her dark-tipped fingers, Mirana gently grasped the Hatter's sleeve, and tugged his arm until he looked into her eyes. "She will come back to us, Hatta." she repeated, conviction clear. "You have to believe that. Please."

The Hatter's more yellow-than-green-at-the-moment eyes slid close, and he took a deep breath. "I shall endeavor to, Your Majesty." he promised.

"Good." she smiled back at him. "You wait here, friend, for word from Chessur. Hopefully Hall will not take long tonight."

"Chessur? Oh, Cheshire puss!"

Alice couldn't help the small thrill of wicked glee she got out of calling out for the Cat in such a manner. She vaguely recalled calling him as such as a little girl, and being terribly anxious that perhaps he wouldn't like such a name. Now, though, she simply enjoyed the fact that if he didn't like the same, it was bound to make him tetchy, which was amusing in and of itself. Either way, hopefully he would reappear soon, as while the Tulgey Woods were very pretty, she had no desire to wander about them aimlessly for hours on end.

Her calling was soon rewarded by a pair of bright eyes directly in front of her face, and Alice reflexively took a step back. This time it was Chessur's turn to be naughtily gleeful, if the snicker that erupted from his throat was any indication.

"I see you made it out just fine without me. Are you sure you really need a guide to Marmoreal?" he asked, allowing his head to form around his eyes.

"Need or not, I would appreciate one, if it's all the same to you." the blonde replied, a bit formally.

"Oh, alright." the Cat conceded. His head vanished, and reappeared several meters away, nearly invisible amongst the trees of the Woods. "Coming?" he inquired, and Alice hurried to trot after him.

They were mostly silent as they walked, with the silence only occasionally being broken by Chessur as he pondered their direction aloud, which did not reassure Alice in the least. It was around his third "Now where is that Tree?" that she'd decided she'd had enough, and asked him in a careful voice, "You wouldn't be…lost, would you?"

"Lost?" Chessur stopped abruptly and turned his head to face her. It sat on his body in the opposite manner than what heads really should sit (in Alice's opinion; Chessur's head thought it was placed just fine, thank you) and glared at her. "My dear girl, Cats do not getLost. First off, Lost involves too many twists and turns, and we prefer things to be as straightforward as possible. Cats prefer to be the most mysterious thing surrounding themselves! Secondly, one can hardly ever expect to be satisfied with the outcome of one's journey if they allow themselves to associate with Lost, and finally…" his diatribe slowed suddenly as he focused on a Tree directly behind her, and his grin became positively carnivorous.

"There it is!" he exclaimed, separating his body in half and allowing each side to float past Alice, before reforming at the base of a Tree that looked exceptionally like any other Tree in the Woods. "If you would, knock three time on the knot, there."

Bemused, Alice walked to the Tree and did so. The bark didn't feel especially pleasant on her knuckles, but she suppressed her complaints when a Door suddenly creaked open, and she was able to spy the Room of Doors on the other side. "Is that-?" she asked, but was already entering without waiting for a response.

"Canton. Lady Remun. Good to see you this evening." Mirana sparkled at the two courtiers immediately to her left as she entered the room. She curtseyed to the waiting occupants in the Great Hall, and they all bowed low before her. She'd tried explaining to her Court on more than one occasion how she disliked the whole bowing nonsense, but they seemed very much attached to their little ritual, so she eventually stopped pressing them to give it up.

A quick glance about the Hall didn't reveal Iracebeth's presence to the Queen, and she tried to pacify herself with the thought that perhaps she just hadn't seen her yet (although it would be quite hard to miss an individual with a cranium that pronounced, she knew). An uneasy feeling tickled the back of her throat, but she quashed it viciously. (Perhaps it was concern for Alice making her feel this way? But no, it did not have that Flavor to it…)

Surreptitiously icing the bottom of her shoes, Mirana glided to her throne at the end of the Hall, nodding her head and smiling all the while. She finally reached it, and had never been so glad to do so in all her life. (And that was saying much, as there had been many times that all Mirana wished to do was to get from the entrance to her dais as quickly as possible, in order to end the entire night as soon as Time would allow) Sinking down into the soft seat-cushion, she fought the sigh of relief that threatened to climb out of her throat and settled for smiling benignantly instead.

"Shall we begin?" she said, her command phrased as a question but understood for a order nonetheless.

The frog footmen nodded to her and hopped to their posts, each prepared to take notes on the proceedings. Just as Erbol was lifting his inked feather (Mirana dearly wished he'd taken her suggestion of penmanship lessons more to heart; his writing was atrocious to decipher) a loud bang resounded through the Hall, and there her missing sister stood, blazing red hair piled high and lips painted the most atrocious shade of blue.

At least two dozens of her nobles flanked the former Red Queen, and Mirana realized with a sinking dread what, exactly, her uneasy feelings had been trying to inform her. The banging noise had been from the slamming of the Hall doors shut, and the White Queen could hear the beginnings of distressed murmurs rising from her loyal courtiers.

"Yes, Mirana." her sister's high-pitched lisp was back, and the Queen forced back the tears that sprang up at hearing it. What a fool she had been, for even allowing herself to hope to think that Iracebeth was recovering from her Madness! And now here she was, prepared to pay for her foolish hopes the highest price possible. At least Tarrant has forgiven me, before I die, she thought, slightly regretting telling him that instead of attending Hall tonight, he should wait in her Rooms for word from Chessur. I would have liked to have at least seen Alice one more time, though.

Of her death she had no doubt; none of those present in her Hall were warriors bred, save a few that flanked Iracebeth; clearly they'd be of no assistance to her. She herself had Sworn to never harm a living creature and could therefore not lift a hand to defend herself. Calling out for assistance was out of the question; whom would hear her, in this Hall? Her sister had chosen her time and battleground well. Mirana swept those considerations away and focused her mind once more on Hatta and Alice. Her last thoughts would be of pleasanter times (however brief they may have been) with the ones she loved.

Yes, she could admit it to herself now, in a moment of terrified clarity. She didn't want a child born of Alice and the Hatter simply for the convenience of Underland, and she was not merely 'attached to' either one of them. She loved them, with a fierceness that clenched her heart and stole the breath from her lungs. It was more than the paltry attraction she felt for Tertian (or more accurately, for Tertian's sperm, back when she thought such a thing might do her any good) and deeper than the affection she felt for her many other friends and acquaintances.

Standing from her Throne on weak legs, Mirana took a deep breath, intending to spew the routine statements she believed her sister expected to hear, namely 'What is going on' and 'Why are you doing this' when Iracebeth smiled. The Words dried up in the Queen's throat at that smile.

"I believe now is an excellent time to begin." Iracebeth gloated, and pulled the knife pistol from her pocket, very much enjoying the fear in her sister's eyes as she pointed the barrel straight at her.

A/N: The knife pistol as described here was an actual weapon popular for self-defense in the Victorian period. The style of the particular model I, err...'borrowed' for this story was produced by Unwin and Rodgers, circa 1830 to the 1880's. Earlier models were actually percussion guns, but in 1861 cartridge style barrels became available. If anyone's interested, you can see a picture of one here. Although that particular one only has one blade, rest assured, there were many models not only with multiple blades, but with several other accessories as well, such as corkscrews and files. (Some modern collectors consider them to be the Swiss Army Knife of their time period.) Iracebeth's model is of the cartridge style.

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