AN: Btw, for those who don't get it yet (NO SHOYS, I'M NOT PICKING ON YOU), the marble statues are the physical remnants of Stayne and Tarrant. At night, the two can inhabit said statues and interact with the living world. But only at night… Hence why the statues are left in different positions every morning. (PICK PICK PICK) So yeah… Almost word for word of what I explained to Shoys… (PICKY PICK PICKIDDY) Yes, I'm quite sane today… (HAW HAW, I LAUGH AT JOO FOR NOT GETTING IT!)
Tarrant stared up at his son with almost astonishment. "Iracebeth? Whatever do you what to find HER for?" Victor clenched his fists tightly at the thought of the woman, silently gritting his teeth together. "Very well…" the hatter grumbled, looking back down at the moonflower. Something began to stir within the elegant petals and what looked like liquid silver filled the base of the flower all the way up to the brim. Upon the silver was a kind of reflection into another scene. What looked like a bustling tavern…
The silver projected the scene unfolding within the tavern. A group of burly, drunk men sat at the bar, gulping down spirits. Behind the bar, polishing a cup with a rag, was a gorgeous, young-looking woman. Red hair cascaded down her shoulders and reached her waist. Her face, oddly pale, showed signs of what seemed to be regret. "Is that..?" Victor glanced at his now astonished father, the origin of the confused whisper. "That couldn't be Iracebeth… Could it?"
The ginger-haired woman brushed what looked like dust from her simple, black dress and fumbled with her necklace. What looked like a heart pendant turned out to be an eye patch. She'd apparently poked a hole in it and kept it on a chain. She traced the edges of the stiff, black cloth and sighed. "What's that you've got there?" one of the drunkards called to her. "Mind if I take a look?" His friends giggled amongst each other, knowing he wasn't interested in the pendant at all.
"Yeah! Get her drunk while you're at it!"
"Cop a feel!"
The whispers of the group helped fuel the drunkards confidence, meanwhile poor Iracebeth was backing away. "Come on! We won't bite!" he cried out, attempting to climb over the bar. One of the men in the group grabbing the former Queen's sleeve and tried to pull her closer. She screamed with fright, slapping his hand away, and tried to flee. However, she only found herself trapped.
"ASHIRA! MONTAGOU!"
As if on cue, two people burst out into the room from the kitchen door. A young looking boy, Montagou, and what seemed to be a sorceress, Ashira. Montagou cracked his knuckles and slinked over to the bar, his ghastly aura leaving the men breathless. "You know, it's good etiquette not to force a lady into something she refuses to do…" he growled. The men let go of Iracebeth and shuffled away from the boy, obviously terrified. The ginger woman shifted close to Montagou, gently hugging him.
"Thank you…" she whispered.
The drunk group began heading for the door as Montagou escorted Iracebeth to the back room. That's was Ashira stopped them. "Hold on. I'm not done with you guys yet…" The door mysteriously locked, causing the men to freeze up with fear. "You tried to violate our Queen. Such acts are filed as treason and assault." She hissed. "The punishments for both are death… according to the Queen…"
The scene then faded as the silvery liquid sank back into the moonflower's petals. The trio were dead silent for what seemed like forever. Tarrant turned to his son, a questioning look on his face. "Please tell me you're not going after her…" he asked. Victor shook his head. "Then why did you want to know where she is?"
"To tell the truth, I wish to end her myself…"
Tarrant scoffed. "Then you are going after her! Why'd you lie!" he hissed, hands on his hips. Stayne, whom was in between them, felt a bit nervous and worried that the Hatter would revert to his Scottish self. Such a sight was not at all pretty.
"You told me not to tell you…"
With that, Victor left the thicket, armor clinking as he did. Stayne glanced at Tarrant, whom was staring at the place their son had just been. Sighing, he followed after him…
Victor mounted Ilosovic's steed, not noticing how his father had followed. He tapped the horse's sides with his heels and, at a maintained trot, headed out of the graveyard. "Wait." The voice caused the horse to stop involuntary and turn around. Frustrated, Victor grit his teeth and looked down at his father's angelic figure. "I know your mother probably wouldn't like this, but…" The spirit sighed and glanced at the ground. "…I'd like to join you…"
The boy smiled and held his hand out for Stayne to take. The knave smirked. "No need…" he said, dismissing the action with a wave of his hand. "I have my own way of transportation…" With that, his great black wings unfurled and he leapt into the air, gaining altitude. Victor scoffed, jealous of his father's ability.
"Show off…" he whispered.
Turning, his kicked the horse's sides, causing them to have a sudden burst of speed. Together, father and son left the Hightopp village and headed for the outskirts of Underland…
AN: OH YES.
THEY'RE GOING FOR IT.
THEY'RE GONNA KICK SOME ASS.
OH YEAH.
JOY.
HAPPY TIME.
