Chapter Two

"We are here, more and less, because of what took place on the Frabjous Day."

After relocating to the library, Mirana took in those seated before her. Tarrant occupied a large, comfortable armchair close to the flickering fire, while both Mally and Thackery sat at his feet. The broadsword sat leaning against one arm rest. McTwisp sat on an ottoman closer to the Queen herself. Mirana drifted over to a bookshelf and retrieved an antiquated tome. She opened it to a particular page and beckoned to the Hatter. "This concerns you, Tarrant. I'd very much like it if you would read this." The man in question got to his feet and crossed the floor to her, taking the dusty book from her hands. As he read, Mirana continued her story.

"There are many magicks that protect Underland, you all know this. It is why only a chosen few make it here..."

"Like Alice?" Mally asked. Mirana nodded.

"Like Alice... and why even fewer Underlanders venture up the rabbit hole."

"Or drink Jabberwocky blood?" McTwisp asked, his eyes flickering to the Hatter. Tarrant kept his eyes on the book, but thumbed the page a little more forcefully that he meant to. The White Queen caught the movement from the corner of her eye, but ignored it.

"Jabberwocky blood has... unusual properties. It takes you where you need to be. When I told Alice that the Jabberwocky blood would take her home if that is what she chose, I was partially correct. But - " at this point, the White Queen turned and faced her Hatter, " - I believe that she didn't wish to be home."

At this comment, Tarrant closed the book with care and met Mirana's level gaze. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You weren't speaking out of turn when you called her your Alice, Tarrant. You are the only one who has ever called her that. Of all her friends in Underland, she trusts you the most... cares about you the most. She was willing to risk herself to save you from Salazen Grum at the cost of diverting from her path."

"She... she thought I was important."

"But you are important, Hatter." The company looked at Mally, who was trying to dislodge one of Thackery's large feet from his left ear. The dormouse looked around at them all, as one who had hit upon a concept that should have been well known. "Well, he is! He mustered the resistance in the first place! Before Alice came back, it was Hatter who was saving Underland! That whippet of a girl only had to hang onto the Vorpal Sword!"

"Mally, please!" McTwisp implored as Tarrant's eyes darkened. Mirana laid a hand gently on the Hatter's shaking ones.

"Mallymkun is right. Alice only finished the battle, it was our own, dear Hatter who had been fighting it. But nevertheless, we needed Alice as much as she needed us... one of us in particular. One who believed in her when no-one else she met did." The White Queen took both of Tarrant's hands in her own and opened the book to the page he had been reading. "Tarrant, if you would."

The Mad Hatter cleared his throat and looked away from Mally and down at the passage. "It's... a record of one of the ancient magicks to protect Underlanders. This one speaks of the... the Song of Tears."

"Sing-song-merrily-merrily," Thackery chimed in, pulling his offending foot from his ear and executing a rather accomplished somersault, landing at Tarrant's feet. The Hatter's hands began to shake again.

"The song... the song is a last resort link to Underland, or one of it's peoples, should a resident find themselves in unendurable agony or misery. The song is supposedly only heard by the one who has the closest affinity with the one who made the call." All eyes fixed on Thackery, who went cross-eyed trying to look at himself.

"Such... such a pretty song..." he mumbled. Tarrant turned to Mirana, who in turn was watching the March Hare intently.

"Why can he hear it? He shouldn't be able to hear it at all! The magick doesn't work that way!"

"I think," Mirana replied in a half-aware murmur as she observed Thackery's absurd acrobatics that took him back to the fireplace, "that our dear March Hare might have a few answers of his own." She followed the tumbling lunatic until he crashed into a wall, reached out and righted him so he would understand what she was saying. "Thackery, this song you've been hearing..."

"Sing-song-singity-merrily," he giggled, pulling at his ears. Mirana smiled kindly at him and nodded.

"That's the one. You know that Alice is the one singing, don't you?"

"Such a pretty song... so sad, so sad. Can't find her Hatter and now she's going mad."

"Thackery, why can you hear the song?"

The question rang out in a resonating voice that caused the Hare to vibrate. Tarrant had never seen the Queen use this tone on anyone, even during the Red Queen's reign. Thackery sat up, his back straight and looked at Mirana, his head slightly to the side. "The Earwickets have been here since the beginning of Underland... since imagination first came to be. Families of rabbits came and went..." at this, he cast a rolling look at McTwisp, who found himself feeling guilty, "... but the Earwickets remained. Always here, always here. Listening to the world above and weaving the dreams. But sometimes, the nightmares got through. We needed help... the Hightopps sealed this place off to save us, what was left of us. Set us free. But there were Hightopps caught on the other side of the divide, calling for their clan. So they left a gap in the seal, the rabbit holes, to bring them home. But they were lost... lost in the Aboveland. So we helped them, as they once helped us, to write the Song... the Song that would bring a Hightopp home."

"But Alice isn't a Hightopp," Tarrant murmured. Thackery blinked at him.

"You claimed her as yours! The magick recognises her as a Hightopp! You made it possible for her to sing the song!"

"But why can you hear it?" The Hatter was screaming now, tears pouring down his face. Had he really brought this upon his Alice? The March Hare stood up, fury in his eyes.

"Because I'm the fail-safe! I can't leave Underland! I am smoke and mirrors to them! If there is not a living Hightopp to bring the lost home, the Earwickets must find a way!"

"Thackery," Mirana soothed, stroking his ears. At this gesture, the March Hare crumpled to the floor and began giggling.

"Sing-song-ding-dong..."

The White Queen stood up and faced Tarrant, who was mopping at his face with a clean, monogrammed handkerchief, the book closed and in one hand, as he continued muttering to himself. "It's my fault, it's all my fault, I should have never, never, never..."

"Tarrant."

"... ever have said anything, I should have just stayed away, shouldn't, shouldn't, shouldn't..."

"Tarrant!"

"... fine," he coughed, stuffing the cloth back into his pocket. Mirana moved to his side and wrapped his hands around the book.

"My dear, I want you to take the book with you. Read it, learn from it. It has been in the Marmoreal library for generations and I think it is high time a Hightopp took it back. There are tales within the pages that come from your own clan history and you should be the one to have it."

The Hatter tightened his grip on the book and pulled it against his chest. "I... I'll look it over, my lady."

"Tarrant, you must be the one who decides what to do next. I cannot force you to do anything against your will. But I know you won't disappoint me. I know you won't let Alice down."

The last of the Hightopps watched as the assembled group dispersed, following the White Queen from the room. He sighed, crossed to the chair he'd been sitting in and slumped down into it, pulling the book away from his chest for a moment to study the cover. A beautifully inlaid, ornate 'H' sat in the dusty leather. Long fingers gently caressed the crest as his eyes burned with unshed tears.

"Claimed as a Hightopp," he whispered to himself. When had she become his Alice? It seemed like so long ago. Maybe as a child... that laughing, beautiful little girl who smiled at him in wonder as he poured the tea and told her stories of the White Queen's court... or maybe as a woman, who looked at him in puzzlement as he dragged her across the table, stuffed her into a teapot and carried her by hat. When she had tried to rescue him? When she had been there for his return to Marmoreal? That night on the balcony? The Frabjous Day? When?

"Forever and always, of course."

He didn't look. He knew he couldn't. In the back of his troubled mind, he knew what this was... and his eyes squeezed shut. "You're not here."

"I'm very much here to you. Everywhere you look, everywhere you go... there's always something that reminds you, isn't there?"

"Go away. There's too much madness in this head for any more."

"Ah, but I'm always there, aren't I?"

"Precisely why you should go away. I don't need you cluttering up my mind."

"I'm practically the reason your mind is cluttered, aren't I?"

"No..."

"Don't lie to me, Tarrant. I can see inside your head. It's the reason why I know you can't open your eyes and look at me."

"I don't have to look at you. You're not there. You're just madness poured into a shadow of a dress that I remember."

"Then I'm real to you. You'll wake up and I'll disappear." A soft chuckle and Tarrant felt a coldness in his chest. "Isn't that a familiar line?"

"Stop taking her words and twisting them!"

"But I can, can't I?"

"Stop it!"

"Then look at me, Hatter. Look at me."

Tarrant gripped the book and forced himself to open his eyes. Misty though his vision was, he saw the girl standing in front of him; a frightening spectre in a blue dress and bedraggled blonde curls, face warped and twisted – as if someone has stirred it with a stick, like paint - with large cat's eyes of oaken-brown. The smile was feline; the small, pointed white fangs protruding from the mouth were digging into the lower lip and causing rivulets of blood to smear the face. "Do I surprise you?"

The Hatter scowled. "Every time. You never fail to sink to new lows."

The illusion sneered, then changed the tone of voice it used. When it spoke, Tarrant nearly howled in misery. "Dear Hatter, I'm lost... so lost. Find me... find me... find me..."

"Stop using her voice! I know you don't have to! Have some pity on me!"

The not-Alice sneered and took a step closer, relishing the reaction in Tarrant as he tried to climb up the back of the chair to get away. "You know I can't. You created me."

"It's not me, it's not me, it's not me," Tarrant sobbed, holding the book up like a shield. The not-Alice laughed coldly.

"You think your words are going to protect you, ancient and dusty? You don't even have the strength to face me yourself!"

The book lowered and the not-Alice found itself looking into toxic orange eyes. Eyebrows of a darker hue lowered and a snarl appeared below them. "Ye have no' the right tae take her form, ya beastie. I'll thank ye to no' tarnish her memory in my presence!"

Tiny fangs withdrew from the lip, curling into a cruel smile. "Ah, the Outlander will face me with his words, but the Hatter dare not. Fine. But you and I both know -" it was fading now, " - that I will be back." The vision disappeared, but the voice left a soft echo. "I'll see you again, Tarrant Hightopp."

The only sounds in the library after the incident were the merry crackling of the flames in the grate and the heart-wrenched sobbing of the Mad Hatter.

"Do you think he'll go through with it?"

Mallymkun watched as McTwisp sipped a cup of tea in the kitchen. The white rabbit carefully ignored the question, much to the dormouse's annoyance. She stuck her pin-sword into table and placed her hands on her hips. "I said..."

"I know what you said, Mally. I was just ignoring you."

"But why?"

"Because right now, I don't want to cast conjecture on the Hatter's mind."

"Then you think he won't go through with it?"

"I think that either way, it's got to be his choice and that given that choice, he won't let Alice suffer in misery. If he goes... up top, then he can end the song and rescue the Champion. Isn't that good for everyone?"

Mallymkun was silent for a moment as Nivens finished his tea and began nibbling on the small, square teacake he had left on a plate nearby. "I wouldn't go."

"Pardon?" The crumbs of the teacake flew from the rabbit's mouth as he tried to reply. "Wouldn't go where?"

"To Alice. I wouldn't save her."

"Mally!"

"I wouldn't!" She pulled the pin-sword out and swished it through the air, defeating an invisible foe. "If it was me, I wouldn't bother going! She can't sing that song forever, can she? She'll forget... and then the madness would stop."

"Did you stop and think that it might not be just the song driving the Hatter to distraction? Did it occur to you that he might actually, genuinely, miss her?" Mally fell into a quiet grump as McTwisp finished the cake and gave her a stern look. "I thought as much."

Mally stabbed the pin at a fallen crumb. "Stupid girl. Why'd that great lump have to go and get his heart all twisted up in his head?"

"I don't think he had much of a choice. Sometimes, when someone has the muchness that Alice does, it can make other people's muchness act in funny ways."

"How'd you mean?"

"Well, like your muchness making you want to keep Tarrant and Alice apart."

"It is not my muchness, thank you very much! It's common sense!"

"Mally," McTwisp sighed, wiping his face with a napkin, "you are the muchiest mouse I have ever had the misfortune of stumbling across. You are made up of a lot of muchness squished up very small. You can't help it, but you wouldn't be Mallymkun if you could. I'm certain the Hatter himself would tell you the same thing."

The dormouse drew herself up proudly. "Hatter wouldn't have to worry about me. I don't need to be saved!"

Nivens smiled tiredly and yawned. "That you don't, Mally. I'd hate to be the one on the wrong side of all that condensed muchness. The White Queen should think herself lucky to have had you on her side on the Frabjous Day."

Mally yawned herself and climbed onto the saucer to snuggle up to the still-warm teacup. "Most definitely. T'would have been a pity if I had fought for the Red Queen. Why, Bayard would have... would have..." her nose rested on her paws and within moments the indomitable dormouse was snoring lightly.

The moon hung high over Marmoreal as Mirana silently crept down the stairs that led into the grand castle, the Oraculum clutched in her hands. Gone was the elaborate dress, replaced with a white tunic and silvery pants paired with a set of ivory-coloured slippers. Staying in the shadows, she made her way into the garden, seeking consul with one of her most trusted advisors.

She found him, wings flattened against a leaf and head resting with his proboscis wrapped around a foreleg. The White Queen prodded the butterfly gently with the end of the Oraculum. "I'm sorry, old friend, for the late hour. But there are pressing matters to be attended to."

Absolem opened one eye and sighed. "This had better be an emergency, Mirana." His voice had a strange echo to it, since the transformation. Mirana had ventured a theory that it was due to sound-waves resonating in the proboscis, but all she had received in return was a glare from the old insect. She nodded, opening the compendium on the damp grass.

"I'm afraid it might be."

"You're afraid it might be? Child, be afraid if it is an emergency, not if it might be."

Mirana allowed herself a tiny smile. "Of course. Forgive my stupidity."

"Providing you hurry this meeting up so that I may return to my slumber, I shall. Butterflies are not nocturnal, you know."

"Look."

Absolem craned his head over the edge of the leaf and peered at it. Frowning, he lifted his head to look the Queen in the eye. "I have seen this day. I know of the events that take place. Why are you showing me this?"

"Because the beginning has changed," she hissed, pushing the left-hand-side of the scroll out across the lawn violently. Absolem fluttered into the air, then drifted down to take a look. His wings drooped as he beheld the images.

"This is impossible, even by Underland standards."

"This is why I came to you. What does it mean?"

"It can be interpreted in anyway. The Oraculum does not always show us exactly what is to happen."

The White Queen sighed and rerolled the oracle. "Maybe so, but I'm fairly certain that you can't die on one day and bring a champion home a few months later."

"No... that is strange."

"Then what do we make of it?"

The butterfly returned to his leaf and folded his forelegs pensively. "I will meditate on this. I trust you haven't told Tarrant what you have seen?"

"No. I've been informed that he suffered another of his... episodes in the library after we left tonight. Apparently it was quite violent."

"Mirana, you must know this; Tarrant's madness will continue to deepen if the Song lasts. It is already interfering with his Path, something that should never happen. Alice is tied up in this, whether she wants to be or not... and if that mad Hatter wants to have true peace of mind, he's going to have to find her himself."

"He'll go. He might argue with himself over it, but he'll never let Alice linger in misery. I gave him the book."

Absolem's eyes narrowed. "That book was meant to remain in the library, along with the rest. Just because you are Queen doesn't give you the right to go handing out books, especially ones like that."

"He'll need the full story, Absolem, if he's going to get the Champion back. If he goes up top, he'll need the words to protect himself."

Absolem stared off into the distance, a vague expression on his face. "Words to protect him... yes, he'll need those. Words to remember, words to fight with... to fight for. That's what they do, up there. They fight for words."

"You've seen this?"

"The last time I saw Alice in England, the land of her birth. I spent a few more days, observing the world she comes from."

"And?"

The wise butterfly fluttered his wings in amusement. "It is no wonder that the poor child was so confused and befuddled when she came to Underland. Such a topsy-turvy place and such strange customs!"

The Queen laughed softly, crossing her legs as she sat down. "Was... was Alice happy, do you think?"

Absolem executed a butterfly-shrug. "She seemed resolute, if nothing else. Her muchness is still with her, I believe."

"That's something to be thankful for, at the very least."

"I think that's the only thing keeping her going," Absolem said softly. Mirana tipped her head to the side.

"You really think it is that bad?"

"Pure conjecture, but I wouldn't be surprised if our Champion isn't suffering her own brand of madness, staying away so long."

"It's been nine months."

"Time moves strangely here. Up top, the peoples have reigned him in, shackled him into a purely linear motion. They lose him, make him up, waste him... and there is nothing he can do about it. The magic there is weak, unlike here."

"Perhaps the Hightopps were right in closing this place off," Mirana sighed, looking up at the stars. Absolem nodded.

"It is an old story, but nonetheless accurate."

"Were you there?"

"Child, I am old, but I am not yet that old. Time will eventually catch up to me, no doubt. The trick is to stay out of his way. He forgets things, occasionally. I'm rather hoping he'll forget me."

"Time finds us all in the end, Absolem."

The butterfly stretched out its wings and set them as flat as they would allow against the leaf. "This is so, but I would prefer to stay out of his mind for a little while longer. There is still much I have yet to see."

"As do we all," Mirana replied, standing up and tucking the Oraculum into the belt of her tunic. "Fairfarren, Absolem."

"Fairfarren, child. Do not trouble yourself – that Hatter of yours will find a way to rescue your Champion... one way or another."

Mirana bowed and hurried back towards the castle, more troubled than before. When she'd seen the Path that Tarrant was destined to walk, she had been terrified for his safety. There was no sense to it – why did the Hatter have to die in order to fulfill his destiny? How was he supposed to bring Alice home if he was dead? But it was all there, clear as daylight – the order was Tarrant's death, then his return to Marmoreal, hand in hand with Alice, beaming from ear to ear.

Then there was the nature of his death. The most strange part of the whole scenario. Ascending the stairs silently, she unrolled the scroll and stared at it in puzzlement. Tarrant was definitely standing near the entrance to the rabbit hole... but then suddenly split himself in two. One half crumpled to the ground, while the other disappeared from view. But there was no rousing the one that lay unconscious. He was dead.

It does not always show exactly what is to happen...

Perhaps the Oraculum has things out of order? Perhaps the death is wrong? The White Queen thought as she made her way to her private chambers. But she couldn't remember a recorded incident in the history of Underland when the oracle had been incorrect.

Still... even Absolem didn't know how to interpret the predicted death of the Hatter. Mirana arrived at her rooms and made her way inside. The royal chambers weren't overly opulent, but still managed to exude a sense of royalty. Crossing the room, she relaid the Oraculum on the lectern that had been especially crafted for it when it had been returned to Marmoreal.

Mirana stood for a moment, watching the scenes play out on the scroll in front of her. How could she do this? How could she ask this of him?

Because you are his Queen.

That was ridiculous. She couldn't force him.

He won't see it as forcing him.

True, but she would. Pushing him to his death? He'd have to know.

It will truly be his death if he doesn't go.

"May I be of assistance, your majesty?"

Mirana jumped slightly as Chessur appeared at her side. The cat peered around at the Oraculum. "Hmm, seems our mutual friend is in for a trying time."

"You know, the general public are not permitted within the Queen's quarters."

"Then again, I'm not a general public. I stay out of the conscripted services," Chessur quipped, floating on his back. "And a cat may look at a Queen. 'Tis an old honour extended to the earliest cats of Marmoreal and the Tulgey Wood."

"What for?"

"We drove the rats out of the castle. Tried to get the mice to leave, too. Less successful there."

Mirana smiled, thinking of Mallymkun. "I can imagine."

"I can, too. I was told the stories as a kitten. Such fun," Chessur purred, stretching and rolling over. He cast his glance back down to the Oraculum. "Are you going to tell him? Show him the Path?"

"I cannot deny him his destiny, Chess. That would be wrong."

"Also very dangerous. You can't really hope to fight Fate and win. For one thing, she's had more time to practice with a broadsword."

Mirana laughed and scratched under Chessur's chin. "I can't argue with that logic," she admitted, listening to the cat's contented purring. After a moment, she rerolled the scroll and sat down on the end of the bed. "What should I do?"

Chessur looked at her, a broad grin stretched across his face. "It seems to me, of late, that I have been doling out more than my fair share of friendly advice. But you are the Queen, so I shall answer your question. In your place, I would let Tarrant figure this out himself. What he needs, he already has. The Path for him to follow is already laid at his feet. He simply needs to take the first step."

"What about the Oraculum?"

"The Hatter has already faced death once before for his Alice. To him, this will be no different. We all have our own Paths to walk, my lady. Tarrant's seems to be a little more interesting than us mere bystanders."

"The Path we do not take is always the most interesting."

"Maybe so. But how will you know what your own Path is like unless you take it?"

Mirana watched the cat disappear into the night, leaving her with the very good advice. She couldn't stand in Tarrant's way. It wasn't her decision to make. Lying back on the bed, the White Queen stared up at the ceiling, her hands locked behind her head. Tomorrow, she thought sleepily. I'll tell Tarrant tomorrow.

Author's Notes:

Still don't own anything here. Reviews are appreciated, now that things are a little more concrete. I'd appreciate if you could check out the many wonderful fics by a friend, ninteennintytwo. I do hope I'm not boring you all.