Oraculum magnus et terribilis…

She felt the pull almost immediately, right after the Vorpal blade made quick work of the Jabberwock's head. As it bounced down the stairs, splattering its blood over the rocks, it called to her like a siren song. The blood, a sweet aroma, warm and inviting, calling and pleading for her attention. Mirana's head fell back and her mouth opened slightly as the sweet drops fell onto the sword, bathing and anointing it. It was finally complete, as was she.

Alice gasped and brought up the blade into the light. The thick blood of the Jabberwock slowly twisted and turned around its sheath, baptizing, sealing itself, not only into the sword, but into her, as well. She felt the blade's tug, pulling her into its song, its deep recesses towards a place where only one image was clear—an image of a woman in white. Alice moaned and then shook her head. The Vorpal sword was glowing.

Mirana grimaced as she watched the courtiers flit about the Banquet Hall, regretting the decision immediately. It was not what she wanted, but her subjects needed it, so she plastered her usual smile on her face and gracefully moved amongst her people, accepting and giving congratulations for a job well done.

Frabjous Day. The dreadful creature was dead, and Iracebeth and her foul crony were gone, hopefully to die an equally ghastly death sooner than later. Mirana paused in her thoughts and cringed, suppressing the sudden need to vomit. She excused herself from her ladies in waiting and went to her place at the head of the large banquet table, and sat down. She discarded the teapot and chose the carafe of wine instead, pouring a generous helping before settling down in the large throne-like chair.

Mirana sighed and looked to the far corner of the room where Underland's Champion—Alice Kingsleigh—was standing with a large group of people, all intent on gaining her favor. She did not know what to make of her Champion, as they had not spoken a word since arriving back at the castle. Her glance lingered, perhaps, noticing for the first time just how beautiful the young woman really was, and how absolutely guilty she felt in demanding that she stay, at least, for this—farce. The White Queen closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them she was pulled again to stare at the young woman, her thoughts scattered.

Alice felt a pull, an inner nudge, and slowly turned her body around, looking for the source of her sudden distraction. The room was humming with conversation, but she barely heard it. The sounds diminished altogether as her eyes fell onto the Queen, and became a prisoner to the deep russet stare. The young woman blinked, and turned away, swiftly, lest she be burned by the brightness before her. Alice looked down at the sword again, feeling it call to her.

Mirana looked away, unable to stand the frank stare of her Champion, and her sudden need to touch the Vorpal blade, and to feel its sticky sweetness. She paused again in her thoughts, as an almost indiscernible sensation began in her lower spine, and worked its way upward. She could no longer deny the growing connection. She suspected, though did not really know, how it happened. Her eyes darted to the young girl again, fluttering in time to a growing feeling just below her stomach. The White Queen lowered her head, not wanting this unexpected complication.

"Are you all right, your Majesty?"

Mirana glanced at the cat. "I'm not feeling like myself, if that's what you mean."

Chessur floated around her chair and landed on the table. "Yes, I'm a bit off, myself—Frabjous day, and all. Such a nasty business."

The monarch's shoulders slumped. "Atrocious, isn't it?"

The Cheshire cat turned his head, regarding the Queen. "Yes, it was." He busied himself with pouring a cup of tea.

The Queen tried to massage away the growing headache. "I am not well at all."

"Perhaps you ought to consult the Oraculum."

Mirana frowned. "For a headache?"

"No, Mirana, not for the headache. For that—the Vorpal sword."

So, Chessur knew. Mirana turned away from the cat. "I do not know to what you refer, Chessur." Her lie stuck in her throat, and she felt like vomiting again, a reasonable price to pay for what her manipulations had accomplished. Everything made sense, even the blood and its pull, its darkness—she anticipated how alluring it would be, the Vorpal sword, now that it was complete. She knew she was to pay a price for it, but she did not count on having to see another suffer along with her.

Alice's smile faltered, and she looked away from the young man who was trying to talk with her. Her mouth twitched, her confusion evident. She felt something unexpectedly, bittersweet and primal, and it overwhelmed her.

"Excuse me, Lady Alice?" The young noble tried to hold Alice's hand, but she pulled it away, as if stung by the contact. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The young woman looked down at her hand, feeling awkward. "I'm sorry, Lord Étienne, but I'm not in mood..." Her voice trailed off, as she did not know what she wasn't in the mood for.

The man nodded then turned away and left. The others who had witnessed the scene extended their apologies to Underland's Champion, and left her alone. Alice let out a ragged breath and looked down, noticing for the first time that she had put the Vorpal sword against the wall. The blade faded a bit, but began to glow again as she picked it up and looked at it. There was something about the way it seemed, as if it was connected to her in a physical way.

Mirana watched as her Champion looked at Vorpal blade, and a new flare of guilt pressed onto her. Alice Kingsleigh—she was, perhaps, the greatest casualty in Mirana's war, and the White Queen knew it. She knew what she must do but dreaded the idea. Had it been selfish of her to make sure Alice returned to Underland? Was there no one else in her realm that could have fulfilled the promise of the Oraculum? The choice had been heartrending. But she had seen the lunacy created by her sister's sinister rule. The Hatter—poor Tarrant—had been made insane, and would never recover. The March Hare was driven mad with the need to find perfection, only to lose it time and time again. There were others, countless others, who had flitted through her Court over the years and their scars remained on her heart.

"Alice Kingsleigh." Mirana rolled the name on her tongue in a whisper, with a quiet breath. The jolt almost lifted her from her seat. But she remained still as a fire burned at her core at the mere mention of her Champion's name. She did not expect this, nor did she really think that it was un-welcomed, either.

The Oraculum…

Alice watched as the Queen quietly excused herself from the celebration and left the banquet Hall. She frowned; it had been her wish to spend more of her time with the Queen and now she was gone. Alice watched the empty chair for a few minutes then sighed.

After politely sending away all the remaining potential suitors, she quietly left the room and wandered the dark quiet corridors of Marmoreal, only to find herself in the Throne room. She became aware that she still held the Vorpal sword; she paused before leaning the blade against the White Queen's throne.

"My condolences."

Alice didn't need look to recognize that voice. "About what, Chessur?"

"All those dreadful men and women, those courtiers. Bores—all of them."

Alice didn't answer, but continued to stare at blade, lost in thought.

The cat scrutinized the sword. "You did not clean off the blood."

Alice's mouth twitched as she pondered the Vorpal blade. "No, I didn't. I knew she would not have approved of that. This serves her well."

"What does, Alice?" Chessur landed on her shoulder and stretched.

"The perfection that is the Vorpal sword. Iracebeth never realized it was an imperfect object before it was used to slay the Jabberwock. It was useless to her and she never knew it." Alice picked it up and ran her hand over the blade, enjoying the feel of it. "It was deficient without this stain of victory—I think Absolem was trying to tell me about its properties, but didn't do a good job of it. Now the blood makes it complete. See how it shines?"

The cat looked at the sword and it was indeed glowing in a way that it never had before. "I see."

"It's just like her, you know."

"Like who?" Chessur floated near the sword.

Alice hesitated. 'Mir—I'm sorry, the White Queen."

"The sword?"

"They're not so very different, you know. Iracebeth and Mirana. The Red Queen was evil to the core, but she could also be vulnerable because her immorality left her completely alone, friendless. Our White Queen is both luminous and steely hard, just like this blade." Alice placed the sword against the White Queen's throne. "But her goodness has somewhat of a dark side. She fights it, but its there, nonetheless."

The Cheshire cat settled onto throne. "How do you know?"

The Champion continued to stare at the Vorpal sword, then reached out and touched it again. "I don't know. Something happened when the blade cut through the Jabberwock, when it came into contact with the blood—it felt like… it sang to me."

Chessur sniffed at the sword. "It spoke to you?"

But Alice was not listening, her eyes remained transfixed on the blade, and she appeared to be listening. "Her darkness, its not really an impediment like Iracebeth's vulnerability, it is a compliment to her. It makes her alive—sparklingly real, passionate—desirable." Alice blushed, not knowing where that particular thought came from. She removed her hand from the sword and shuddered, her breath somewhat labored. After awhile she offered Chessur a sad smile. "One cannot gaze too long at the sun."

The cat nodded and looked at Alice in a new light. "I'm afraid that I initially did not think much of you, dear girl. You never seemed to be the right Alice—until now."

"Why not?" asked Alice, her indignation showing.

The cat floated close. "Because I thought you did not understand the Queen. But it appears now that I might be wrong."

"You are wrong, stupid cat."

"She's in the verum locum, Alice." Cheshire grinned and slowly disappeared. "Your Queen awaits."

The White Queen stood before the Oraculum, which was lying rolled up on a large wooden table in the Verum Locum—an antechamber directly next to her large bedroom. The scroll was emitting a soft bluish light that seemed to float up and disappear into the white vaulted ceiling. Mirana tentatively reached out to touch it. But before her hand could touch it, it slowly unrolled itself and glowed slightly whiter.

"Show me." It was not quite a question, but not a command, either.

There was nothing, only the slight glow of the scroll. The White Queen could feel the call of the sword growing.

"Show me the Vorpal prophecy?"

The imagery appeared as gentle waves, receding only to come forth even clearer than the last. They darted back and forth creating a crooked time line of sorts. The White Queen could not make out any coherent timeline; then she realized that the images that she was seeing were of events that never took place, because she had forgotten about the implications of what would happen once the Vorpal blade came in contact with the blood of the Jabberwock. Finally one illustration stood out—one graphic image—Mirana and Alice.

The animated Queen was naked on her bed, straddling a perfect Alice, who was writhing beneath her and running her hands over the White Queen's hips.

The gasp was audible, but it did not come from the White Queen. Mirana whirled and found she was staring into the eyes of her Champion. But Alice tore her eyes from the Queen and her gaze fixed on the Oraculum, her eyes intent on the scene being displayed.

"Your Majesty?"

Mirana's hand covered her mouth, and she could barely speak. "Alice…"

Alice's breath was labored, as she could not turn from the love scene that was unfolding itself on the Oraculum. It was far from over, yet she finally turned to the White Queen—whose head was turned from her. "Mirana?"

"Alice, please go." It was barely a whisper.

Alice shook her head. "No."

The white haired woman finally faced her champion, and her desperation was evident. "Please let me explain."

"What is this—tell me!"

Mirana knew she could never lie to young woman before her. "It is the prophecy, the fulfillment of the Vorpal sword."

"What are you talking about?"

Mirana had to control an urge to slap the girl. "Don't you know? I know what killing the Jabberwock did to the sword. None of this was by accident, I made sure of it."

Alice frowned. "What did you do, your Majesty?"

The White Queen chuckled, but there was no mirth behind it. "A little bit of tinkering here… a minute bit of tinkering there."

The young blonde was on the edge. "What did you do? I want to know!"

"Didn't Absolem tell you that the Vorpal sword knew what it wanted? Don't you know by now? It wanted me! But he made sure that you believed it wanted the Jabberwock dead, just so you could destroy it. What a joy that was, releasing all of that lovely blood, binding me to it!"

"Absolem lied?" Alice was stunned.

"I knew your weakness from the beginning, Alice—your self-doubt. I knew you would run away at first." Mirana's tone was bitter. "I told him to lie!"

"And I was your reward, wasn't I? Is that what all of this is about?" Alice grabbed the Oraculum and threw it against the wall.

The White Queen blinked. "No, I never intended that. I only wanted all the madness to end for my people, even if it meant that I would be bound to that damned sword forever!"

"You expect me to believe you?"

Mirana wrung her hands, feeling defeated. "No, I don't blame you if you don't. But I never meant for you to be hurt by all of this. I had to find a way to release the blood of the Jabberwock, because my vows wouldn't allow me to do it."

Alice could feel the pull of the blade. "Is it doing the same thing to me? Is it binding me to it?"

"I'm afraid so. I could tell when I watched you in the Banquet Hall; I knew you were feeling the same thing I was. And then I knew you were its pawn, as well."

"Are you saying that I had no say in killing that monster? The sword was controlling me—the whole time?"

Mirana turned away from her Champion. "Yes."

Alice searched her heart, looking for any sign of subterfuge or impediment, but she found none. "I don't think so, your Majesty."

The White Queen turned her head. "What?"

"I know why I killed the Jabberwock, my Queen, and it wasn't because a bloody sword was telling me to do so."

"You can believe whatever you like, Alice."

"What are you saying? Are you so consumed with believing this little faerie tale of yours that you think I didn't know what I was doing?" The young Champion was angry. "I have my own mind and my own motivations, your Majesty!"

"Alice…"

"No, you listen to me! I did it for you! I always knew I did it for you!"

The Queen turned to face her Champion. "How can you know, for sure?"

Alice cringed at the hopeless look in Mirana's eyes. "I know I did it for you, Mirana. I knew from the very moment I met you that I would do anything for you. Because I—" Her voice faltered as she drew in a ragged breath.

The White Queen took a step closer to her Champion. "Because?"

"Because I love you! I've loved you all this time, ever since you spit into that bloody pishsalver!" The blonde wiped at her tears. "It wasn't that bloody sword, it was me! Only me!"

Mirana reeled from the admission, and openly wept. "But..."

"Don't you dare take this away from me! I did it for love, for you!"

And the world came crashing down around Alice. Her fear of facing her destiny was over, but a far more abject battle had just begun. A small sob was torn from the young woman's throat. "I did it for you, don't you know that? I did all of it for you, Mirana. And it was me, only me."

The Queen let out a raged breath. "You did, Alice?"

"Frabjous day, the Jabberwock, defeating Iracebeth…" Alice closed the distance until mere inches separated them. "For you, only for you." Without hesitation she reached up and pulled Mirana's head down and captured her lips. The kiss was hungry, and Alice groaned into it.

If the White Queen had any doubts they were instantly unwoven by the younger woman's need. Mirana threw caution to the wind and pulled Alice closer until she was flush against her body. Her body collided with the hard steel of the armor her Champion wore and it sent her mind reeling some more. "Alice, I need, please…"

And her Champion understood, she reached around to Mirana's back and began undoing the clasps of her dress, moaning into the older woman's mouth. The Queen found the straps to her Champion's breastplate and released them, sending the piece crashing to the cold marble floor.

Mirana threw her head back and Alice peppered kisses all along her throat, causing the older woman to wind her leg around her Champion's hips. Alice unbound the last of the clasps and unwound the ribbon at Mirana's back, freeing her from the dress.

A gasp. "Here, now… like this?"

Metal armor fell to the stone floor. "Take off everything."

"Get on the table."

Little grunts, then a long moan. "I love you."

Alice opened her eyes, trying to get her bearing. There was very little light in the room and she was uncomfortable, lying on a wooden table. She turned her head and saw Mirana beside her. In fact, Mirana was more than beside her, she was wrapped around her body, giving the blonde her only sense of warmth. "Mirana?"

"I'm not asleep." The Queen opened her eyes and offered Alice a small smile. "I think its morning."

Alice nodded, and continued to look at her Queen, her emotions raw and exposed. After a few long moments, she returned Mirana's small smile. "It's gone."

"What's go—" The Queen stopped and inhaled deeply, all her thought focused on one thing, the Vorpal blade. She tried to feel it, its hunger, but it was gone. "Oh, my."

Alice turned onto her side to face her Queen. "Do you feel it?"

The White Queen looked at her Champion as a few tears fell down her cheeks. "No, I don't. How—how did this happen?"

The young blonde sat up and brought her Queen with her. "Don't you know, Mirana? Quite possibly the one thing that the Vorpal sword never counted on."

The monarch wiped at her tears. "Alice, what do you mean?"

The Champion smiled, as her new understanding percolated deeply within. "You love me, don't you?"

The White Queen cried. "Yes, my sweet Alice. I've loved you from the start. Ever since you walked into my throne room, entirely too big for anything."

Alice held her Queen tightly. "Our love and devotion—we broke the sword's grip, Mirana. Our love conquered it and broke its hold on us. "

Mirana looked up and met her Champion's frank stare. "I'm free now—we're free, Alice."

"Yes, we are."

The two women looked at each other as if for the first time, with a new understanding. There were actions that needed to be talked about and forgiven, and getting to know one another would help start that cumbersome process. Both finally noticed that they were naked before the other.

Mirana swallowed as she eyed her Champion's breasts. "What… what would you like to do, Alice?"

"I could use a hot bath."

The White Queen smiled. "May I join you?"

Alice returned the smile. "I was kind of hoping that you would."

"And afterwards?" Mirana felt hopeful for the first time in days.

"I want to get to know you, Mirana. How about a walk?"

"How about Tulgey wood, where you slew the Jabberwock? I'll tell you everything, I promise."

Alice stroked her Queen's cheek. "I would like that."

The White Queen took her Champion's hand and kissed it. "I love you, Alice."

Alice grinned. "I love you, too."

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