wanderamaranth | Possible Side Effects, Ch. 26 (Reply)

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

Rating: M, for Sexual Situations and Murderous Intentions.

I know that is has been way too long since I updated. (Hence my icon!) ;D I am here now, though, and that's what matters...right? Please let me know if you find any spelling errors/major issues, as once this was done I was too impatient to get it posted to send it to my betas like I told them I would...

"Is it done?"

The trees moaned softly to her, telling her the tale the fumblebees laden with wildflower pollen had brought to their blossoms. Yes, the treats she herself had prepared for Tarrant and Alice's tea had been served; it was only a matter of Time now deciding when they would ingest them.

Thanking the trees, she shut the kitchen window, seemingly unaffected by the news-until a quick glance about assured her that she was alone in the room (although one could never be really sure they were alone in Underland). Only then did she allow her hands to tremble and eyes shut tightly closed.

"May they both forgive me." A tear escaped her clenched eyes and slid down her face, warm and salty.

Mirana's eyes snapped open at the sensation. Brushing the tear from her face, she stared at it in amazement. The tear had a perfectly normal warm-wet shine. "How-?" Even as she started to ask herself the question, though, the small drop of moisture hardened and crystallized, tumbling from its perch.

Shoulders hunching, Mirana collapsed onto a kitchen stool, her face in her hands, shaking with dry sobs. Dry, for the tears she would have shed acted the same as all other tears she'd cried since accepting the mantle of White Queen. They froze inside of her, unable to escape-all except for that one that had somehow managed to escape.

"There had to have been another way." she sobbed, the ice in her throat half-choking the words. "I have been trying, you know I have-but I am so tired." In that moment, Mirana felt every one of her one hundred and fourteen years. "So tired of being the peaceful sheep that follows where the hook directs me!"

A small black tabby with a white splotch upon her breast (along with a few touches elsewhere) jumped upon the kitchen counter. It sat directly in front of the distraught Queen, tail lashing, waiting.

Are you done feeling sorry for yourself? The Cat asked, when Mirana finally lifted her head.

"I am sorry, I didn't know you were-"

Yes, you are sorry. Underland spoke the word sorry in a manner clearly indicating she didn't mean that she thought Mirana was apologetic. Do not snivel! I may look at you, Queen, and I am not well pleased with what I have seen thus far.

"You told me-"

I told you to secure a means of producing another child of Underland. I also told you to devise a way of keeping the Alice here where she belongs. A combination of those tasks I require is simply an admirable bit of multi-tasking, if I do say so myself, Mirana of Mamoreal. Yet even if Alice is to bear a human litter of two or three, those children will not be enough to fill the Crowns. Licking a paw daintily, Underland continued, All the vacant crowns must be filled, and yet you wallow here in delusions of self-pity, pining for things that were never to be yours!

A flash of dark anger crossed Mirana's face before it was carefully smoothed away. It still showed some strains of her dry crying (in a certain tenseness about her mouth and eyes) but when she spoke, her words were superficially cheery. "Who is to say that they are not for me? Should that not be-"

I say they are not for you, Mamoreal Queen, and my word is the LAW. Do you Doubt the words that Underland speaks? For a moment, less than the time it takes to blink an eye, Mirana saw Underland as the form it once preferred-as large as an ox, and as powerfully muscled as a wrestling bear-before it returned back to that which it was now, a common Above house cat wearing a large blue bow. She shivered, and shrank away from the kitchen counter, arms held at shoulder height from habit.

Do not make the same mistake Seanchan did, child. Underland chided the clearly cowed Queen.

"I shall endeavor not to." the White Queen quietly said, eyes sliding away from the Cat before her. There were no Saints here to preserve her, after all. "May I ask a question of you?" (Mirana being a polite young Underlandian, and knowing that in order to properly ask a question, you had to ask a different one first.)

Green eyes alit with amusement (as if the Cat already knew what it was she was going to ask!) the creature Alice called Dinah tilted her furry head to one side in a considering manner. You may, it finally said, making this sound like a great concession indeed.

"Why Alice?" Mirana asked, the pain around her heart throbbing with an unfamiliar heat. Then, sounding even more torn, "Why Tarrant?"

There was a long moment of silence, so long that Mirana was almost certain she wasn't going to receive an answer. Then, finally, the Cat spoke.

Alice is my Child. Underland said. She took in my form of fur and flesh and Loved me as I have not been Loved in far too long. Blinking solemnly, she added, and the Hatter Loves her in a similar manner as I do-desperately hungry for that which she is only all too willing to give. He has since he first clapped eyes upon her, in fact. Small Cat mouth twisting in a moue, she added, Though the carnal aspects of his regard only sprouted upon her third journey home.

Twitching her whiskers, the Dinah cat circled upon the countertop once, then lay down, curling into herself. Closing her eyes, she said, voice a tired sigh, The last Hightopp is whom she set her heart upon, the one her dreams whispered of, even then in her small child-form. I am a Guardian. It is in my very nature to protect…I would give her the opportunity to fulfill those dreams.

It was not the type of answer Mirana was expecting, in those brief seconds she had to even expect an answer at all. It was an answer, though, and one that the White Queen found difficult to argue with. To think, that Underland would have such a reason for its actions-!

Is that not reason enough? Underland said, answering the question the White Queen hadn't formed into words. Nuzzling a bit further into itself, the Cat opened one eye a mere slit, piercing Mirana with it's gaze. Love is not a means to an end, she of Marmoreal. It is the end.

As the Dinah-shaped Cat drifted away in wisps of broken teal fog, she said, dreamily, I shall be waiting for the fulfillment of the tasks you have begun in my Name, White Queen. By any means necessary.

Stayne leaned against a pillar just outside of the Queast gardens, his hand on his brow. He told himself that the only thing that ailed him was an aching head-but he knew better. Alice's Rejection, no matter how nicely done, still was a refusal of affection…something the Knave knew he craved with an almost unholy fervor.

"No luck, eh?"

Jerking in startlement, the Knave scanned the ground, looking for the source of the voice.

"Over here!" Snellum cheerfully called him, waving his tiny paws from a potted plant. (Potted due to the plant's preference, it must be said, and not because of anyone forcing it away from its outdoor home against its will.)

Stayne took the two steps needed to reach the plant, and Snellum in it. He held out his hand, palm side up, and the Mouse climbed atop it. Placing him upon his shoulder (as was becoming a Habit) so he didn't have to actually look at him to converse with him (in fact, it was almost like talking to oneself…a thought which Stayne had been delaying studying ever since he'd had it-that it, that he would feel more comfortable talking to himself than to another living creature) the Knave said, "Don't you need to be hiding from a Cat right now?"

Trembling, Snellum smacked Stayne's cheek. "I've told you not to mention C or D!" he wailed. "Even a mention of their breed will bring them running to us, and then where will we be? With me eaten, that's where, and you having only a sardonic disappearing C…C…Creature for company!"

"Would he be quiet?" drawled the Knave, to which Snellum huffed indignantly.

"If I didn't know that you were speaking to me this way because of what happened between you and Queen Alice, I'd be very upset."

Ilosovic frowned, the scars where his eye used to be puckering as he did so. "I do not know what you mean."

The teasing left Snellum's voice, and he patted a paw against the Knave's broad cheek in a comforting manner. "You don't have to pretend with me, Stayne." the Mouse said. "I saw." Quieter, he added, "I also saw that you let her go to him, instead."

"There is nothing for it, Snellum." Ilosovic said resignedly. "I have not the ability to make her desire my company more than his…my only recourse would be to kill him." He paused as if he was seriously considering this option. "No, I am weary of killing."

"Good to hear." the Mouse drawled. The Knave's shoulder bunched under his paws, causing Snellum to hastily amend, "No, I am serious, Ilosovic."

"It matters not." Having reached his destination, Stayne lifted his friend (and he'd hardly believed he'd ever have another one of those, aside from his horse Roderigo) and set him upon the ground. "I'm afraid that I have to leave you at the door, Mouse. I have an appointment that must be kept, and you were not invited."

"Not invited! By all the nerve! With the way you're acting, you think you were going to see the High Queen herself!"

Stayne didn't verbally reply, but instead raised a single brow, and stared at the Mouse significantly.

"Oh, tar and horse feathers! Your appointment is with the White Queen?"

A smirk and a nod of the Knave's head answered that question, and Snellum turned away, a small hrumph! Leaving his lips. "Fine. But if I'm eaten by an insatiably hungry invisible Cat, you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

"I think I can live with that horror." Stayne replied, opening the door and stepping inside the kitchen. He'd lived with worse.

Iracebeth sat in her kitchen, surrounded by tarts. Piles upon piles of them, stacked in some places fifteen high. She looked very small despite her oversized head (or perhaps because of it) in the black and white kitchen. Her shoulders shook, the tiny bones that should have never supported the weight of her head trembling. What disturbed the Knave the most though was how quietly she was crying-his loud and brash Queen of Hearts could not possibly be this hunched, broken creature, could she?

"Majesty?" he kneeled at her feet. Tragic eyes met his, the shame Iracebeth felt at getting caught crying clear.

"Stayne." she tried for even a thimble-full of her usual measure of decisiveness, failed miserably, and the word fell from her lips with a self-pitying, childish lisp that made him cringe.

"What makes me unloved?" she asked, voice low and careful. Needy. "My subjects fear me-I hear them whispering when they think I am unawares. Tertian has turned from everything I have ever given him." Brown eyes trace the tops of the pastries, their squim berry filling overflowing down the sides of their flaky crusts. They looked nothing at all like her normally perfect tarts, with cut-out shapes and delicately sugared edges.

"He has left me." she said, and Stayne stood, startled. Tertian had just been in the courtyard, playing croquet with a few courtiers, what was she-?

"Not in body. Not yet." Iracebeth laughed, and it was not a happy sound. "Yet all that I have given him he is now intent on giving my…" her voice gave a little hiccup, and she lisped, heavier than before, "my wittle sistwer. Just as all others before him have done. What is next, my children? The flesh of our flesh? No, I won't allow it. Guards are on their way to intercept him on the pitch even now. I do not know why I am surprised. All men betray. All lose hope."

Stayne took hold of Iracebeth's warm-almost hot-hands in his oversized grip. "I never will! I will do Anything for you, Majesty. Whatever you require." He kissed the backs of those hands, the declaration perhaps a bit more passionate than it should have been, but it made the Red Queen smile.

The smile was not one Ilosovic had ever seen before-but one that he would grow wearily sick of as their years together dragged on-a half-twist of her lips, signaling deviousness and plotting. Yet right then, in that moment, it was brand-new to the Knave, and unsettling.

"Anything, Stayne?" she pressed.

"Yes, Majesty! Anything!" More fervent kisses were pressed against her fingers. "I have Sworn myself to you!"

He may have been a Knave, but he'd longed to prove that he'd had the heart of a Knight, back then.

That wasn't to be; it wasn't what Iracebeth wanted of him.

"You have, haven't you?" she purred, finally looking at him as though she Saw him. After all this time in her loyal service, she'd finally acknowledged him, finally Seen him as male and not just a useful being, a part of his heart fluttered. She was such a fiery and passionate woman, and he'd only dreamed of one day being under her warm regard! She-

Iracebeth pressed her lips against his for the first time in a swift, domineering meeting of flesh that was as brutal as it was brief. Wanting to deepen and soften the kiss, Ilosovic reached out to hold her, but Iracebeth swatted his hands away as her teeth ripped his bottom lip. Splitting them with the force of her kiss, she took his blood in her mouth. That blood she kept there, careful not to swallow, as she pushed him away and spoke words he never thought he'd hear from his Queen.

"Ilosovic Stayne, True Named Knave of Hearts, he who is Bound to me, Iracebeth of Crims. I remind you of your Vow to me, and further Bind your loyalty to me, by the Blood of your Flesh. Your task is this: My children."

A terrible suspicion swirled in Stayne's gut, the throbbing there beating in time with his split lip. No, the Racie he knew wouldn't…

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, your Majesty."

Chin lifting, a demented glint in her eyes, the Red Queen asserted, "I think you do." Swallowing the blood down, she licked her lips, then said, "If the Executioner fails in his task, Stayne, it will be up to you. To kill the children."

A strange sense of vertigo overtook the Knave as he stepped into the kitchen to see Mirana leaning against her countertop, shaking with silent sobs. He licked his lips, tasting the dryness of the air in his mouth.

Clearing his throat, Ilosovic allowed Mirana a small moment to compose herself after she jumped and gave a small squeak of surprise.

"You sent me an Invitation, your Majesty?" he asked, pulling the Envelope out of his grey jerkin and setting it upon the marble counter.

"I did." Smiling, all traces of sadness vanishing from her features like a Cheshire Cat spotting a good bit of mischief. "I wished to discuss a few things with you."

"We have already Exchanged Words." Stayne said, stiffly. (What an awkward affair that had been! If not for Alice, he would have been forced to ask the Hatter for a ribbon to wrap his Words in, and he would not have liked doing that at all!)

"This is…not about Racie." the White Queen said softly, fingers twitching in the air, the smile wiped from her features.

"With all due respect, that is a Lie, and you know it, Mirana." the large man said, using the Queen's first name in a way he'd never dared before. "It's not even a White one. All we have ever talked of together had to do with Race, even if her name was not mentioned."

Swallowing with difficulty and touching her still-tender throat, she nodded. "Let us speak bluntly, then, Ilosovic."

Snorting in doubt, the Knave still nodded his consent. "Yes, lets."

Dark brows drawn low, she said, "We both have the unfortunate tendency to love where and how we should not. To strive for things we should not or…perhaps are not meant to have."

Angry, Stayne asked, "And what are those things, Mirana? Happiness? Affection? Hope?"

Nodding, Mirana agreed, "All of those things and more, at the expense of others."

Bile rose in the back of his throat, but he could not deny the High Queen's claims. Oils and dried herbs caught his attention, and his eye skipped over them, thinking that there was something very odd about the ingredients that had been set out…

"However, that does not always need to be the case. Perhaps, if we sought out those more like ourselves…?" she said, the question open ended. A large grin sprouted on her face, and she was blinking her eyes at him rapidly, as if she were preparing to swoon at him or some other ridiculous such nonsense. Abruptly she twirled over to a simmering pot, made an interested noise at whatever the contents thereof were doing, then slid back over to the counter to begin chopping bitter oranis root. During this entire operation she was humming. Humming!

Her sudden cheeriness set Stayne's teeth on edge, and he looked suspiciously from her to the potion ingredients spread out on the countertop. There were at least three different brews being created simultaneously, but there was something about the ingredients that didn't seem right. Then with the blinking of her eyes…

Oh, for the love of feathered knickers!

"What have you done?" Stayne snarled, stepping in close to Mirana. Hissing at the suspicious tone of voice (how could he know?), Mirana cut herself with the sharp edge of the knife, her blood welling thick and blue. A few drops dripped on the counter and into the closest potion, rendering it useless. Moving quickly, the Knave placed a long, blunt fingertip in one of the dribbles of her blood and stuck it in his mouth. His eyes widened as the Truth slammed into him (for Blood will Out). There was a hint of tears in the Queen's eyes, but she looked at him defiantly, chin lifted ever-so-slightly.

"What needed doing." she replied. Underland had been very specific. "You will not disturb them, Stayne!" she called after him, alarmed when he turned away from her and began charging in the direction of the Gardens. Mirana cursed the fact, not for the first time (though she was loathe to admit it) that she had not chosen the path of Dominion, as her sister had. If she had, she would have been able to stop him right in his tracks after he ingested that bit of herself; she would have been able to prevent him from…

Ruthlessly crushing that way of thinking, she gathered her skirts and hurried after him, having to forgo some of her usual delicacy in order to catch him up. He was already well out of the Kitchen, striding down the halls, three-quarters of the way to the Queast Wildflower gardens, before he was in her sights once more. The force of his determination (she had never realized how focused Stayne could be, when setting his mind to a task! It made her almost shudder, and not unpleasantly! That was a thought to be Examined at another time) buffeted her.

She had to hurry if she was to stop him from interrupting the conception she'd just worked so hard to ensure.

"You are certain this is the Path that needs to be taken?"

I am not certain of anything. You know me better than that by now, Absolem, than to expect me to speak in Absolutes, as you are wont to do.

"It seems well enough from our end." Cantarra ventured, black eyes nervously focused on the Cat before her. "Bifrost and Adelmund are even now winging towards the White Queen, and Deagmond is waiting for me to join him in the Queast gardens."

"This will not take much longer." Absolem assured the Magpie, blowing smoke-pipe in her general direction. "I simply wanted to make sure Underland knew what she was doing."

I resent that, the Cat looked down her stubby nose at the Butterfly, green gaze regal.

"Resent it all you wish, Diana, but that does not change the fact that the Alice seems to think that she is entitled to some measure of Free Will, and undoubtedly will not appreciate your efforts."

That is a risk I am willing to take.

They lay, side by side on the table, neither saying a word. Tarrant was too busy trying to catch his breath (bothersome thing, didn't seem to want to be caught!) and Alice was trying to remember her name after that mind-meltingly…wonderful and confusing and-she didn't even know the proper words for it!-experience with the Hatter.

A twitch of his hands (they did always seem to know what he wanted to do before he himself did!) had him lacing his fingers with hers, and Alice shivered from his touch, then rolled over, so she was pressed against his side. Their hands were still held together, and he began rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"What…" Alice finally said, breaking the hush that had fallen between them. (Hatter didn't mind that in the least; spiteful thing could stay broken, for all that he cared!) She faltered, and he turned his head to look at her, green eyes swimming with a peace she had never before seen in them. That peace gave her the courage to resurrect her query, the one that had died before it had fully left her lips. "What was this? Between us?" Reaching out with a trembling hand, she used her index finger to trace first his lower lip, then his upper. Tarrant closed his eyes and tilted his face towards her, hoping for more of her touch.

"Why do I now, that I've touched you once, want to keep doing so?" she said, softly, a slight trace of fear in her voice. "I'm…" she blushed violently, but the Hatter's eyes were still closed, so he couldn't see that- "I'm a bit sore…there…and when you put your fingers…" Alice swallowed hard, and Tarrant opened his eyes, staring at the blonde with a heart-stopping amount of emotion (satisfaction, lust, and a bit of nervousness…had she not liked that? It seemed that she had, from the…but then, perhaps her body had just been so inflamed at that point…?)

"I wasn't expecting that." Laughing, she admitted, "I wasn't expecting any of this, but when you touched me…I couldn't say no." At his alarmed look, (for Alice realized she had to say precisely what she meant-Hatter took everything she said so literally) she giggled slightly, and said, "I didn't want to say no."

"I'll not say that I…hadn't thought of this." Tarrant admitted, relaxing as she added the word 'want'. Absently twining a single curl around his finger, he gazed at them Joined as such (she wrapped around him, warm and golden…). The sight of her shiny hair around his battered digit was more beautiful than he could bear, so he unwound that curl and tried another. "I had hoped that…perhaps, someday…but it was a hope without an expectation that you would ever, that you would welcome such…"

"Shhh." Alice soothed him, and leaned down to kiss the tiny indentation in his chin. "Neither of us expected it, then." she said reasonably, "yet it has happened nonetheless. And I…"

Tarrant studied Alice, saw that she was hesitant to say something. "What is it, lad?" his lips twitched in acknowledgment of the mistake, but old habits do not easily fade, and she had been his wee lad before she had been anything else to him.

"Even now, as we lay here, and I am sore, and quite possibly b-bleeding…" she took a deep breath, "I want you to touch me again. Like that."

Thackery was right; the ladies really did appreciate when you served them the best butter. The Hatter conveniently ignored the fact that they had skipped the food-eating portion of the meeting in this rumination. He took no time to correct himself, either, for then Alice's hand was stealing up his waistcoat, was sliding inside, so her palm was warm and solid against his shirt, and then she was kissing him, tongue tentatively touching his.

He accepted her Invitation, and drew her tongue into his mouth, humming in the back of his throat (a traditional Underlandian butter-churning song) as he did so. The vibration caused Alice to quiver, and soon she was taking one of his wandering hands and placing it squarely on her backside. Obligingly, the Hatter squeezed.

"Like this, is it?" Kilt bunching about his hips, the Hatter rolled towards her, then rapidly changed his mind, and was just as quickly standing beside the table, hand outstretched. "C'mere, lass." he said, and Alice rose on shaky legs to meet him. Leading her towards a thicker patch of wildflowers, he laid her down upon the ground. Slowly, meticulously, he began to unfasten all the little bows that held her into her dress (very glad that she had worn one of his own design, so that he would know where all said bows even were) until finally it flowed from her shoulders with a hiss of swishing fabric. Alice trustingly lifted her hips (even as her face burned) so that he was able to ease it off of her lower half. "I didna take the proper time I should have to cherish ye, Alice, before." Swallowing, he said, "The fact that you even would want to again, with the way I simply took ye against-"

"What was it you said before, Hatter?" Alice interrupted him, fingers working on loosening his cravat. The undressing of herself seemed to embarrass her more than her actual nakedness, for she was bare beneath him without a single flush, yet when he'd been tugging the fabric free she had been Mortification itself. "Now is not the time for talking?"

Breath catching, the Hatter replied, "No, it's certainly not. So good of you to remind me, Alice, my dear." My dear was an old endearment between them, but now, using it like this, made him feel…made this seem…

"I love the way you say that." Alice sighed, finally unknotting the cravat. Her nimble fingers focused on unbuttoning his shirt, which was pushed away with a gentle slide. Her thumbs explored his nipples, rubbing over them in fascination, watching as they pebbled under her touch. "Just like mine." she murmured, and the Hatter would have argued that they certainly were not just like hers, but at that point she'd come to his Kilt.

The belt holding it to his person was unbuckled, the pleats falling out almost immediately, making the soft fabric into a sort of makeshift blanket.

They were both bare, together under the sun in the Queast garden, and suddenly struck inexplicably by Shyness. They'd already…and yet they lay there, he poised just above her, staring into each other's eyes, not saying a word.

Hatter broke the tension by leaning down and kissing her. He was ready for her again already (a fact which somewhat helped to alleviate his bruised male Pride over his less-than-satisfactory initial performance) and slipped into her waiting slickness with ease, making an odd little urghh! sound as he did so.

"Hatter!" Alice sighed, fingers gripping his shoulders. This time he went slower, teasingly shifting in and out of her, watching the expressions cross her face as he did so. Confusion, desire, blossoming passion and a bit of awe were all held there, and soon she was grasping his sides, rolling her hips in time with his motions.

"No, no!" he said, hardly believing those words came out of his mouth while they were-! "Too soon, much too soon!"

"Too soon for what?" Alice gasped, forgetting her own edict of silence.

Instead of answering, he actually slowed his pace, and almost completely withdrew, something that made Alice want to howl.

"No!" Alice found herself repeating Tarrant's cry. Trembling legs locked at the ankle behind his back, keeping him close to her. "Keep moving."

"I can't…Can't hold…"

His denial was belayed by the fact that he eased into her again. Hatter began whispering a litany of all the various types of Tea that had been served at the Party while waiting for her return-it would be better if he could manage to list them alphabetically, but by day would have to do, he guessed…but he needed to list something, anything to distract him so he did not disgrace himself again by not being everything she deserved from her first lover.

"Mint. Earl Grey. Lavender. Orange Spice. Black Spiced. Jasmine. Freckled Snapdragon. Blue Pekoe!"

Her feminine walls clamped down hard around him, causing Alice to shudder. Her mouth had been upon his shoulder when this happened, (lapping at a delicious syrup that had somehow splattered on him) and she involuntarily bit down hard enough to make him bleed. This being more than enough to tip him over the edge, he emptied himself inside of her a second time. Tears slipped down his face as he collapsed atop her.

"Hatta…Tarrant." Alice said, cupping his face in her hands. She kissed away his tears, tasting salt and an unexpected Sadness in them. "What is the matter?"

"I…don't wish for you to wake, this time." he said, more tears leaking down. He propped himself on his elbows just enough so he didn't crush her. "Please, keep dreaming. Stay here with me."

She kissed him this time, a gentle pressing of lips and a soft glide of her tongue, which he accepted tentatively, as if fearing a sudden movement would cause the moment to abruptly end. He was exhausted, body and mind wanting to slip off into sleep. They should get up, he thought muzzily, and retire to a bed to rest-but he was enjoying this moment, here out in what would now always be their garden, too much to suggest it.

He slid out of her, already missing the warmth of her embrace. Alice whimpered softly. "This is like no dream I've ever woken from, Hatter." she assured him, fingers reaching up to smooth his eyebrows. "It's better."

His response to such a declaration was to kiss her again, fiercely. How he loved-yes, he could Say it now!-loved this woman.

When they separated again, Tarrant was panting heavily. Alice was as well, as if he'd swallowed all of her breaths, or she'd forgotten how to do so altogether. Luckily she finally remembered, (or contrarily, he'd given her breath back) and she gave a great, shuddering gasp before slumping bonelessly to the ground.

"Will it always be this way?" she asked, as she experimentally tried to move legs that had all the solidity of Margaret's first (and last) attempt at raspberry jam-that is to say, none at all. "I wanting you almost as soon as we're parted?"

Again? Was his Alice (and oh how perfectly contentedly wondrously that sounded!) that pleased with him? Unable to keep the Grin from his face at this notion, the Hatter reached over and pulled the plaid up around their centers. Alice snuggled against his side, a small hum of contentment escaping her as they became closer. Slender fingers tripped haphazardly across his chest, occasionally stopping to play with the sparse orange hairs scattered about.

"And all her face was honey to my mouth,

And all her body pasture to mine eyes."

Burying her face against his shoulder, Alice tapped him lightly upon the chest in reproach. "Not Swinburne, please!" she cried, the words a bit muffled.

Ignoring her reproof, the Hatter continued reciting the poem, interspersing his words with small kisses to her face, neck, and hair, coupled with diminutive touches upon her breasts and down across her belly.

"The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,

The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,

The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs

And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire."

"Am I, Hatter?"

He tilted his head and saw that Alice now rested her chin upon the same shoulder she'd been hiding in (which was good, as the Hatter had not the energy at the moment for Sardines) . Tarrant knew what she was asking, but dissimilated anyways. "Are you what, my Alice?"

Blue eyes huge and staring at him with a perfectly individual Alice expression conveying desire, hope, and trepidation, the young woman raised a single hand to the Hatter's face and cupped his cheek. "Yours." she whispered. "Your soul's desire."

Licking his lips, Tarrant said, nuzzling against her skin, "Alice, I may safely say that there is nothing my soul desires more than-"

"CAKE!"

Both Tarrant and Alice startled, looking down at the Hatter's lips to see if they shouted such a thing. (This was a bit more difficult for the Hatter to try to do; it was making him cross-eyed, but he thought if his lips had ruined such an opportune moment for him to inform the Alice of the breadth and depth of his emotion than the least they deserved was a cross-eyed glare!) The cry came again, louder this time, and from a source that sounded as if it were quite close to them.

"CAKE!"

Tarrant sat upright, and the canopy the wildflowers that had formed over them (voyeuristic creatures!) parted, grumbling. Plaid pulled up to modestly cover her bosom, Alice joined him, a small hand resting on his shoulder. Each deduced without having to consult the other that an individual outside of their cozy duo had to have uttered the word. (For, with the second cry, the Hatter's lips had not been moving at all!)

An extremely sizable dark shape bounded towards them at an alarming rate-Stayne, Alice realized. The large man paused when he saw the destruction of the tea table, his eyebrows raised high.

The wildflowers surrounding Alice and Tarrant snickered, causing the Knave to turn in their direction. Upon spying them lying together-Alice now desperately trying to adjust the plaid so that it covered as much of their bodies as possible-his jaw dropped open, a bare squeak of sound escaping. Frosting and bits of crumbled pastries-even a few mashed fruit slices-decorated his Queen's hair. The Hatter was not much better off, with what appeared to be jam matting a largish clump of his frizz, and a long, sticky streak of some sort of syrup atop the shoulder opposite the one Alice was clinging to. Stayne said in a combination of disbelief and a trace of masculine Respect, "Did you even stop to say hello?"

Raising one of his extravagant brows, the Hatter curved towards Alice, who was turning several different shades of red (all of them lovely, as far as the Hatter was concerned) as she continued to attempt to preserve a semblance of modesty. "Did we say hello, Alice? I don't recall doing so, but then again, I've recently engaged in activities of a most pleasant kind, and my mind may be more filled with those recollections than such paltry things as hellos and goodbyes."

"Hatter!" she hissed, clearly mortified. It was one thing for Alice to reject Stayne with him having the abstract knowledge that she was on her way to a…rendezvous with Tarrant, and it was another altogether to have him towering over the pair of them while they were naked so he could shout about cake! There was only so much muchness she had, and this situation was rapidly using up her supply.

Alice's hiss at the Hatter seemed to recall Stayne from his glazed stare at the slight swell of the young woman's breasts under the plaid (where his eye had landed and had not wanted to stray from). He shook his head as Bayard does when Rain decides to pick on him, then said, urgently, "Have either of you eaten of the food that was here? Have you drank the tea?"

As he was saying this, Mirana skidded up behind him, and teetered precariously on her heels, having miscalculated exactly how much ice she needed to put on the bottom of her shoes to properly glide. Arms held high for balance were all that saved her from crashing into the tall man's back. The Queen steadied herself just in time, but her actions still caused the other three in the garden (not including the wildflowers, who didn't know quite what to do-their garden was hardly ever used, you see, and to have so much activity in such a short span of time was nearly overwhelming to the plants) to stare at her.

"Your Majesty." Tarrant said, unconsciously scooting a bit closer to Alice. She tightened her hand on his shoulder before sliding it down to wrap about his waist. Normally such an action in a public setting (putting an arm about a man's waist) would have been unthinkable, yet in this situation, Alice didn't see where it could make all that much difference. After all, she'd just been doing much more hugging his waist, a fact of which was quite obvious. To act as if it wasn't, to be prudish and distant from her lover, would have been ridiculous in the extreme.

Satisfaction lit Mirana's features as she took in their disordered state, mingled with a bit of something else that Alice couldn't properly identify.

"As you can see, Stayne, there is nothing here to be done." Mirana said, voice soft and lilting. "Let us leave them to enjoy their new accord."

"Nothing to be done?" the former Knave hissed, eye burning (with anger or with…something else that he did not shed, he couldn't say). "Do you mean to tell me that my intuition was wrong, and that you didn't douse all of their foodstuffs with Nookinom?"

Tarrant inhaled sharply. "What is it?" Alice asked him, looking from the infuriated Knave to the chin-held-at-a-righteous-angle Queen. The Knave was the one that answered her. "Your-Alice." (He stopped himself just in time from referring to her as Your Majesty) "Nookinom is an elixir to encourage desire and fertility. When taken by the female…participant, it increases the chances of conception exponentially."

Eyes wide, Alice turned to the White Queen. "I thought you told me that it was very difficult for Underlandian women to conceive." There were easily a half-dozen other questions Alice wanted to ask, but for one reason or another, that was the one that crowded out of her mouth first.

"Underlandian, yes." Mirana's dark eyes darted away from Alice's probing gaze, and focused on a bed of bemused Black-Eyed Susans, who blinked and waved at her. "But the potion is useless to women of Underlandian physiology."

"Underlandian…physiology?" Alice said, faintly. She had a feeling she knew where this was leading…

Black brows raised high, Mirana finally turned and looked into Alice's eyes once again. When she spoke, it was in the same tone as when she told her she'd expected a Champion already, that first night of their reacquaintence. Arch, and imperialistic. "Yes. It is specifically for human women."

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