No one knew why the Kingdom of the Knights decayed so much faster then anywhere else in Wonderland. The broken chess pieces were barely standing now, the few remaining walls and arches of the old palace slowly turning to dust.

Even to the lone inhabitant of the ruined world, decay came quickly. At 177 years of age, Charlie should still have been spry. Not a young man, for certain, but neither the shriveled, aged shell that could barely stand beneath the weight of the armor he refused to relinquish.

The last time they had visited, Alice had cried to see the knight that had followed them across Wonderland and battled the Queen's suits with an army of skeletons, looking so frail. He had tried to assure her that he was as fit as a butcher's dog, but his words rang hollow as he had, moments later lost his footing and it had taken both Hatter and Alice to help him to his feet again.

And Hatter's heart had ached for the toll that time was taking on his closest friend.

It wasn't that Hatter hadn't experienced decay of his own. Fourteen years spent in Alice's world had taken their toll on him. In Wonderland, fourteen years would barely have aged him at all. He would still be a roguishly handsome youth had he stayed. Instead, his dark hair was showing its first streaks of silver and deep lines had formed by his eyes. But he would not trade the life he was having with Alice for the hundred years or so he was giving up. He still loved her as much as he had the day he stepped through the glass to be with her. And now he had a family, two sons, the elder named for Alice's father, the younger named for the elderly knight.

But the toll of time had been Hatter's choice, the trade-off for his happiness. With Charlie it merely seemed an unstoppable force. As the kingdom continued to crumble, so did he.

...

Tall pine trees had grown over most of the chessboard, but the broken chess pieces towered over them, dwarfing them. As he had the first time, Hatter found himself staring up at them in awe. A bishop, a rook, a knight, all towers built of white stone, almost glowing in the sunlight. They had been a feat of engineering. At its prime, this city must have been an amazing sight.

But as Hatter stared toward the sky, a large drop of water fell, striking his cheek. As he reached to brush it away, it was joined by another, and another. Black clouds swirled in, and the wind began to pick up. Shadows fell across the chessboard, dulling the white stone to shades of gray, and the rain fell harder now.

Lightening lit up the sky, and the thunder practically shook the ground beneath him. He was soaked to the bone and shivering, but could not move.

Then the ground seemed to shake beneath his feet again, and another sound met his ears – a growing rumble, like a landslide. And as he watched in horror, the giant horse – the knight – began to crack. Large crevasses appeared up the side of the tower and spread through the carved face. Chunks of rock began to fall around him. And as the earth shuddered once more, the knight that had stood for so long, towering above the trees, broke apart and came crashing down on top of him.

…

Hatter jolted into a sitting position, gasping for air and trying desperately to slow his racing heart. It had been the third such dream in as many nights, and each one had left him feeling more and more unsettled. The bedsheets were tangled around him, leaving Alice half-uncovered beside him. She was shivering slightly, and he felt a twinge of guilt as he wrestled the sheets from underneath him and pulled them over her again. He lovingly reached over and brushed a strand of hair from her face, still relishing the feel of her skin against his fingertips.

He lovingly bestowed a kiss to her cheek before easing himself off of the bed and making his way up the hall. He poked open the door to his sons' room, and stood there for a long moment, watching his two young boys, sound asleep in their bunkbeds.

But he still couldn't shake the remnants of his dream, even as he continued up the hallway to the kitchen to make tea.

…

"Charlie!"

Alice jolted into a sitting position, struggling to breathe around the lump that was growing in her throat. She instinctively reached for Hatter, but his side of the bed was empty and cold, proof that she was not the only one with bad dreams that night.

But she could already hear his footsteps rushing up the hallway toward her, and within seconds she was enveloped in his arms, as the first painful sob tore from her chest.

It had been so vivid, so real. Charlie, her White Knight, looking so alive, so animated. So like he had in the days of her adventures in Wonderland. He was chattering nonsense about his latest invention. Then the wind had come, and before her eyes, he had faded, turned to dust and blown away, leaving only the empty shell of his armor, in pieces on the ground.

"Charlie," she whimpered again.

Hatter swallowed hard. She could feel it from where her head was tucked under his chin. She pulled back slightly and looked up at the man holding her. He was looking straight ahead, not down at her, but she could see the brightness of tears in his eyes.

She pulled out of his arms, and Hatter finally looked down at her, his eyes dark with misery. She struggled for a moment, not wanting to ask what she already knew.

"He's dying, isn't he?"

…

Their plans were made in an instant.

Carol had rushed over when she had heard the distraught tone in her daughter's voice. Though she had never met Charlie, she had certainly heard about him, and she readily agreed to watch the boys so that Alice could go.

And Hatter had scribbled a note and attached it to the "closed" sign on his door, stating that the tea shop would reopen tomorrow. Then he and Alice made their way to the shop's back storage, which had housed the portal since the demolition of the old warehouse.

They stood, looking at their reflections in the Looking Glass, as Alice pulled out a pendant from her jeans pocket. It had been a gift, a shard of the same stone as the Ring of Wonderland. It wasn't as powerful, but it could unlock the glass from their side and allow them passage through.

King Jack had been surprised to see them, and hadn't been able to resist a quip about how old Hatter was looking (he still being as fresh-faced as the day he took the throne), but when he was made to understand the nature of their visit, his tone changed and he immediately summoned a scarab.

…

The air felt different, heavy, as they walked through the ruined Kingdom. Everywhere they looked, the structures were disintegrating. The once-great city was turning to dust.

Alice fought against tears as she and Hatter walked in silence. This place, the one place in Wonderland that she had felt safe, was disappearing, fading before her eyes. Someday soon, there would be nothing left at all.

When they approached the camp, there was no fire burning. The perimeter alarm had been tripped, but the cage that held the crow was empty, swinging slightly despite the lack of breeze.

Charlie's hammock hung, unoccupied, between two trees, also swaying slightly in the still air, causing Hatter to wonder if they were too late after all.

It was Alice that found the White Knight. He was lying on the rusty old bed, the one Alice had slept in so many years ago, wearing full armor and holding his sword against his chest. His eyes were closed, and he was so still that Alice was afraid to approach, not wanting to find out that he was already dead.

Hatter's breath caught in his chest as he approached the bed. He swallowed hard, and blinked back against the tears forming in his dark eyes. Feeling suddenly timid, he reached out and gently touched Charlie's hand. It felt cool, but not the cold clamminess of death.

"Charlie?" His voice wavered slightly, and he swallowed hard again, before repeating, only louder, "Charlie?"

The old man's eyes fluttered open, and Alice made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"Just Alice," he managed. "Harbinger. You came."

Alice took his hand. "We came, Charlie."

Hatter brought Charlie a cup of water, and it seemed to revive him a bit.

They didn't know how long they sat at his side, retelling old stories and reminiscing old adventures. For a while it was the old Charlie they knew, strange and animated, but as evening came and the light began to fade, so did the White Knight.

Hatter assured him that they'd stay, and Alice told him that the boys sent their love to Uncle Charlie. And for a long while, they simply sat at his bedside, and Alice held his hand in silence. And as the silence stretched on, they wondered if Charlie had fallen asleep.

But his eyes opened once more and he gently squeezed Alice's hand. "Alice of Legend, it was meant to be." He smiled gently at her as the her eyes welled up. "Thank you." It was almost a whisper.

Alice leaned over and kissed Charlie on the cheek, then moved so that Hatter could come closer.

"Hatter."

Hatter swallowed hard as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Charlie never called him Hatter. "Don't you mean Harbinger?" he said with a mournful chuckle.

"You are the paladin now." Charlie smiled at him, then let his head fall back. He gazed up at the canopy of trees and stars above him.

"Time tolls for us all."

…

They buried his body at the foot of the throne he had forever guarded. The Red King had long since been given a proper burial, but Charlie had never relocated his camp from the throne room. It seemed only fitting that it be his grave marker.

They released the horses from their paddock, and led them out of the ruined city. Guinevere and Lancelot were too old to be ridden now, but they deserved the luxury of the rest of their lives being well treated in the king's stable.

As they passed, solemnly, beneath the shadows cast by the chess pieces in the early morning light, Hatter looked up at the giant horse, the knight. A large crack had split the tower from the base to nearly the horse's neck.

And as Hatter stared towards the sky, a large drop of water fell...

...