Pain and the smell of blood were the first things to strike Tarrant's senses. A throbbing ache in his side was secondary to the bloodied clothes that covered Alice's pale and wilting form. She managed a small smile as he put his hand over the bloody wound on her shoulder. Mirana looked on helplessly without her kitchen full of supplies while others raged in the battle still, despite their wounded champion lying on the chessboard floor.
"I'm alright, Hatter, but I don't think I can fight anymore. I'm too weak to stand, let alone try to hold on to the sword long enough to finish the job. I've failed you all, especially you. I am very sorry," Alice whimpered. "Absalom was right to call me 'Almost Alice.'"
"Oh, but you are very much Alice. You are the only Alice for the job and we wouldn't have managed this much with only an 'Almost Alice' now could w? This simply won't do, we could still try to win against the Red Queen if we just give you a little extra help," Tarrant lisped. He tried to keep the horror off his own face as more and more of their own chess pieces began to fall. "Yes, just prop you up and you'll be good as new for a little while longer, yes?"
"Hatter, it's no use now. We have lost the war and Alice. We are now forced to bow to the Red Queen until the end of Underland," Mirana admitted sorrowfully while pain threaded through the edges of her voice. She reached out to brush the hair out of Alice's face but jumped back at the booming sound of Tarrant's voice.
"I will not bow to her now nor will I ever! You give in to easily while the battle still remains!" He spat, his green eyes spilling poison in her direction.
"The battle has been lost and so is she!" Mirana pulled Tarrant's attention back to Alice. Her eyes rolled back in her head as if in slow motion and her form began to evaporate beneath his hands. "It is done, Hatter. We must move on and do the best that we can." The wail he let out rivaled the noise of the fighters around them. Grabbing his sword at his feet, he dashed to the sea of red on the other side of the board and began to slash and hack at everything that he could reach. Gasping at the sudden pain in his back, Tarrant whipped around to face the Knave of Hearts directly.
"So sorry about that, but killing the enemy is the name of the game after all," he said, a smile stretched across his face. Tarrant fell with a crash, his breath burning in his lungs. His heart beat wildly in his chest until it couldn't keep pace with itself and finally gave up under its own strain.
Tarrant gasped as his eyes flew open to meet the darkness and warmth around him. He breathed deeply in an effort to regain some semblance of normalcy to his chaotic mind. Rain splattered against the roof above him as a body pushed against his chest tighter, looking for extra warmth. He carefully extended his hand to touch a mess of curly hair against his neck. He smiled gently to himself as he moved his hand to wrap around her waist.
"What's wrong, Tarrant? I heard you talking in your sleep again," Alice asked, groggy from her sudden wakefulness.
"Just a dream, love. Just a very bad dream," he soothed. Wrapping his arms around her tighter, he breathed in the scent of her hair and fell back to a more peaceful sleep. Eyes glowing, Chess slinked out of Tarrant's embrace.
"If only we could give her back to you forever," he cooed at the sleeping hat maker. "But for now, I give up my dignity for your fragile and fragmented mind."
