A/N: This chapter starts akin to the movie, but I play a little bit of rearrangement and in that lies a large conflict change from the movie and entire scene (and character age) shift.
Alice marveled as the Chronosphere continued through the crashing waves of the past. A moment of time flashed before her, revealing her recent incident with Humpty Dumpty, the egg struggling for balance as he rolled over the edge of the table.
Impossible, Alice thought awestruck. Pushing the lever forward she noticed that the Oraculum before her began to spin more rapidly. Slowing the Chronosphere, Alice read the words above small freeze frames of events carefully.
Faldifel, Kaledek, Limirck…these are the days of the past. Which meant that Horuvendush Day was, "Dead ahead," Alice said to herself, pushing the second lever to send the spherical ship over the crashing waves.
A familiar face in one of the bubbling flashbacks paused her in her journeys; the image of the Hatter on Rebek day, the day when he had discovered the paper hat he treasured while playing in the Tulgey Woods with Bayard and Mally. Steering her ship over to the swelling memory Alice frowned, a pang hit her heart as she watched her friend's demeanor change as he cradled the hat in his hand.
"Tarrant," Alice knew it was a memory and he would not be able to hear her, but she spoke all the same. "Don't worry, Tarrant, I'll save you and your family." She vowed, resolve renewing in her heart as she was reminded of who she was risking danger for.
Accelerating the Chronosphere, Alice directed the ship to duck below the wave and continue forward (or perhaps was it backward?) into the past. Her only dilemma being that time did not work the same way in Underland as it did in her world. Eight years had passed for her in her time of being a child and her nineteenth year, but when she had fallen down the rabbit hole, it appeared time had moved more slowly. Maybe half the time had passed. But she had spent several days and nights in Underland only to find that when she climbed out of the rabbit hole that it had been maybe three quarters of an hour. There was no telling, then, whether Horuvendush Day was twenty years in the past or a mere eight. She would need to rely on the Oraculum as her compass.
Meanwhile, in the Castle of Eternity, Time stood with Iracebeth and Wilkins on the balcony. The three had recovered from the startle Alice had given them by racing the Chronosphere toward the trio, but she had disappeared into the Oceans of Time before reaching them.
Iracebeth stood at his side, having remained quiet since the little kindergartener had disappeared. "Alice?" She finally spoke, her voice tight, a low warning. "The Alice," she turned her head, her thin eyebrows arching as her glance turned into a glare. "Slayer of my Jabber-baby-wocky?"
Time realized now that he should have recognized the girl before. In his defense he hadn't asked her name, hadn't cared really, much more important things were at hand such as ruling all of Time and Eternity, but perhaps he should have been suspicious of a blonde haired interloper who had made such precocious requests. He cowed as Iracebeth stepped towards him, her anger just alighting.
"The reason I have been banished from my kingdom?"
Ah yes, the story he had heard too many times for his liking. So it was her, maybe he should have been more conscientious as to who crawled into his castle. "That Alice?" He tried to quell her fury by suggesting that, indeed, he did not know it had been that Alice.
"Idiot!" Iracebeth screamed inches from his face. Time winced, both from the volume of the scolding and from the spittle flying from her mouth. Iracebeth turned from him as if commanding the entire castle, "I WANT HER HEAD!" She stormed off, her heels clacking on the marble.
As endearing as Iracebeth could be, she was overwhelmingly childish to a fault. Time contemplated going after her, trying to stop her, but as he turned to move a jolt came from his neck, a burning sensation radiating from his heart. He ripped open his cloak to see that the time piece on his chest was beginning to crack, several panels losing all of their glass.
"Are you alright, sir?" Wilkins, his ever faithfully and entirely irritating companion hurried to his side, clutching metal hands. His eyebrows crossing with worry.
No, no, Time was very much not alright. And neither was the Grand Clock. Meaning the entirety of Underland was also doomed.
"It has begun," Time heaved, his heart's burning made his breathing labored. He tried to ignore the pain, looking over the balcony to the dais where the Chronosphere once floated. The glowing electricity of the gear below was beginning to extinguish; the Grand Clock was slowly losing power. "Without the Chronosphere the Grand Clock will break down," Time explained to his butler, "Time myself will stop, and all in Underland will perish!"
"Did you say— PERISH?" Wilkin's steamed.
Now was not the moment to lose calm, Time thought morosely. He loathed to say it, but he would need to leave Wilkins at the helm of the castle while he would go off to get that yellow haired nuisance. "Wilkins, you must keep the Grand Clock ticking." Time charged his servant.
"Me?" Wilkin's balked, mechanical eyes widening as he was given the task of keeping Underland running. "I said that out-loud, didn't I?" He mused, the back of his head steaming in embarrassment. "I mean, of course, sir."
Time knew he could count on the Second to perform as good a job as he, though he would never say the sentiment aloud. He grinned darkly as Wilkins saluted him. When he had secured the Second's agreement, he turned back to the heart of the Grand Clock, detailing his own plan.
"And I? I must find the kindergartener." The word left a bad taste in his mouth; he would be as irate with Alice as Iracebeth had been when he caught hold of her.
But this was much more than a dispute over a kingdom. This was upsetting the balance of an entire universe for one man.
In his heart, Time hoped that this Tarrant Hightopp was worth it.
Elsewhere, Mirana and the small group of tightly knit friends were ascending the hill to the Hatter's house. He had not been seen or heard from for days and the White Queen couldn't shake the notion that something was dreadfully wrong in there. Especially after Alice said Tarrant had declined in health since her visit. Mirana had persuaded the friends that it would be best to pay their dear Mad Hatter a visit. They hesitantly agreed if she would go with them. Bravely she led the charge, her stomach churning at the thought of what she might find.
The sun was setting between the mountains beyond, a picturesque sky boasted soft pinks and oranges and lilacs dancing among the clouds as the rays were quieting themselves for sleep. The house before them was swathed in soft yellows and blush pinks, adding to the breathtaking beauty of the end of the day.
As the small group climbed, a loud crash filled the sky and the earth began to shake. Looking up all watched as the sun quickly set, darkening the night sky where clouds whizzed overhead. The stars were whirling around them, flying impossibly fast through the night air.
"What's…what's happening?" McTwisp panicked, pulling his pocket watch from his jacket. The hands on the face were spinning around the clock, minutes and hours reduced to seconds.
"She must have the Chronosphere," Bayard noted as he looked down at the time piece in the rabbit's hand.
The sky settled into a beautiful morning sunrise, the night over in a mere heartbeat. The rays of the morning sun beat down on the group; Mirana inclined her head toward the sky, bringing her hands together before her body.
She closed her eyes, sending her invocations to the girl who was caught in the imponderable plan. "Take care, dear Alice," Mirana balled her hands, releasing an imaginary substance toward the sky. "All our hopes fly with you."
Alice continued her trek through the waters, frantically looking for the date that had changed everything. The waves were crashing with impossible force, their crest peaking too quickly for Alice to watch the glimpses of memory; she was left entirely reliant on the Oraculum compass before her.
The days were spinning just as swiftly, but her hand was at the ready when she saw the Jabberwocky come into sights. As soon as the creature came into view on the Oraculum, Alice pulled the lever back stopping the Chronosphere entirely.
"Horuvendush Day!" She exclaimed, sighting the wave ahead that was lit with roaring red fire and the shadow of a horrible creature. Alice pushed the ship forward, making great speed toward the memory.
When she was mere inches from entering the wave a bright light caught Alice off guard, a second ship smashing into the side of the Chronosphere, catapulting Alice away from the intended date and back into the Ocean of Time. Alice let out a blood curdling scream as she fought for control over the careening Chronosphere.
The days were flying rapidly as Alice took hold of the wheel in one hand and a lever in the other, slowing the rocking sphere and gaining control once again. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to estimate how off course she had been pushed.
"Aha!" A cry rang out behind her and Alice turned with a gasp to see that Time was on her heels. He had emerged from a wave riding a hand pump cart, much like the ones Alice had seen used on the expanding railways back in England.
"You!" He cried, pumping his small vessel furiously in order to catch up to Alice who looked on, too shocked by the sight of Time to react. "Give me back what is mine! Give it back…or there will be consequences!"
Shaking her head, Alice depressed the lever, shooting the Chronosphere forward and toward a rippling wave.
"Come back!" Time commanded.
Alice continued to ignore him.
She flew the ship under the crest of the wave, creating a small mist around her as the golden circumference band skirted the edge of the water. Time followed her under the crest, singing a jolly song of triumph as he continued to gain on her.
"You cannot win in a race against Time," he chuckled to himself. "I am inevitable!"
Alice raced forward all the same, undeterred by his threats. She leaned forward, putting her whole weight into depressing the lever, squinting her eyes to see into the bright light of the past which illuminated the water, the glare making it near impossible to see through the wave tunnel.
Time was quickly at her side, smiling villainously as he caught up to her spinning sphere. Alice let out a gasp of dismay and surprise when she spotted him, turning her head with determination to the horizon once more. A proud snicker from Time filled her ears before he slammed his cart into her, sending her Chronosphere bouncing toward the wave. She quickly turned the wheel, hoping to avoid shooting into the water and instead sharply changed the trajectory of the Chronosphere. She was flying out of control toward the memories before her. Hearing the wave crashing behind and a cry of alarm from Time, she knew that he had been knocked off her trail for a moment. She would be able to continue her quest for the past unhindered.
Once she finally landed.
Alice shut her eyes, fighting vomit as the sphere spun her at incomprehensible speeds. The Oraculum dinging as it spun through past days and events. It finally settled on one day, Fell Day, as Alice went headlong into the wave.
She was sent screaming through the air, only to crash into a pile of snow, shivering as the cold around her quickly seeped through her, once again, useless silks. She had been bucked from the Chronosphere, which had shrunk back to its original size, sitting atop the snow glittering prettily. Alice plucked it up, cradling the cold metal in the palm of her hand before tucking it the sphere into her pocket.
Alice shuddered as a cold wind picked up and she wrapped her arms about her body to try to keep herself warm. Looking down she found to her dismay that her costume had ripped, the pleating along her waist had ripped to her chest, revealing the bright crimson silk beneath the orchid purple. She noticed as she felt the tears that her sleeves were also ripped, the bell cuffs opening wider than had been originally intended. Sighing, but recognizing there was little she could do in the way of saving the shirt, she pressed on, sighting Witzend in the distance.
As she walked along the snowy path, the white powder crunching beneath her feet, she heard the bickering of small child voices ahead. Ducking behind a tree she caught sight of two familiar faces gathered around a small snowman.
Tweedles Dee and Dum were decorating the white creature with sticks and rocks, even placing an umbrella in the mix. She watched in amusement as Dee tried to place the snowman's likeness.
"He weally weminds me of someone," he mused, scratching his small chin. "I can't place who…"
"He looks a little bit like you bwother," Dum responded, his voice just a hair lower than his twin's.
Along the path bounded a young Bayard, Alice smiling as his likeness reminded him of several of his pups. He was chasing a small Chess, the kitten floating along clumsily through the air. Behind the rambunctious animals trumped a small red-headed boy, his cheeks pinked in the cold. He wore a handsome forest green velvet jacket, maroon trousers covered his legs. A messenger bag was slung across his shoulder which he clung to with his right hand and a handsome felt top hat graced his curly locks. All seemed to be on their way to Witzend. Alice grinned as she basked in the sight of her young friends, fighting the urge to hurry along on her way.
This clearly was not the Horuvendush Day, but perhaps she could find the Hightopps, if they were here, to warn them of the dangers that were to come. If she told them to be wary then they could avoid the tragedy all together or in the very least prepare themselves for the onslaught of the Red Queen.
Cheered on by her brilliant idea Alice set off on the snow stamped path to Witzend, passing dangerously close to her friends. None would recognize her, so she figured it wouldn't hurt to catch a closer glimpse.
"Nonsense!" Dee's voice echoed in the still winter air, Alice watching as he received a prodding from a wooden spoon in the hands of Dum. The spoon had once served as one of the snow-Tweedles' arms. "He's hideous," the boy grabbed hold of the umbrella serving as the other arm, twirling the now-weapon fancily, challenging his brother to a fight. "Looks more like you!"
Dum was all too happy to oblige. The two began to beat themselves with their new weapons, letting out short cries of astonishment and protest as they batted one another around. Alice ducked behind a tree to watch, not wanting to incite attention by standing on the road and gawking.
"Hey Tarrant! Tarrant!" Alice's head whirled as she caught sight of the owner of the name. The red headed boy bent over to watch the Cheshire cat who so eagerly called his name. Alice's eyes widened.
Of course, who else would this red headed boy be? she thought wildly, her cheeks blushing at seeing Tarrant at such a young age. Not that there was anything wrong with it. After all, he had met her when she was this young and impressionable. Shushing her reeling thoughts Alice strained to hear the conversation, wondering what her dear friend was like in his youth.
Tarrant watched as his small kitten friend spun in circles, flexing his paws as he readied himself to show off a new trick. "Now you see me," Chess' small voice proclaimed as he begun to spin, "Wait a moment…wait a moment!" He promised as he began to vanish, all that remained was his flicking tail. Tarrant seemed semi-impressed with the trick, the Tweedles were entirely confused by the cat's almost total invisibility.
"Where'd the cat go?" They exclaimed in their typical unison.
Only Bayard yipped as he intently watched the flicking tail of the feline. Jumping up he bit the tail playfully, inciting Chess back to the visible world, the cat grabbing his tail and patting it soothingly.
"Gotcha!" The hound exclaimed with a triumphant wag of his tail.
No longer entertained the Tweedles turned on each other, brandishing household weapons again, swinging them with cries of "Have at you!". It wasn't long until they swang too hard and the items cracked in half, leaving too very unhappy boys crying in the snow. Alice sighed at their predictable spat, hearing the chiming of the clock in the village and being reminded of her task.
Ducking from behind the tree she continued on the path with her head bowed, her hands sliding up and down her arms trying to warm the clammy skin.
"Hello!" A boy's voice called to her. Alice winced, turning to see young Tarrant approaching her with a wide smile on his chapped red lips. "You have a very nice head!" He exclaimed in total sincerity.
Alice knew that any regular child giving a compliment such as that might be seen as peculiar, but coming from a Hightopp she knew it to be a flattering. "Thank you," she answered, a smile gracing her face as she looked down at the boy.
"A nice head deserves a nice hat," Tarrant began, Alice brimming with amusement at his naïve salesman like approach. "That's what my father always says. He makes the best hats in Witzend!" His large green eyes lit up with pride as he watched her face. "Shall I get him to make you one?"
Alice thought about declining the offer before realizing that such a proposal was exactly what she needed. Young Tarrant asking his father meant that she would be able to talk to the Hightopps. She could easily deliver her message of warning and he'd have to listen if she was paying for a hat. Alice patted her pockets at the thought, realizing she only had a few pence on her, not sure if such currency could be used in Underland.
"I'm afraid I don't have any money," Alice wilted, but young Tarrant reached forward and took his hand in hers.
"He'll offer you credit; Father also believes that a good head should always have a magnificent hat. Such a head like yours goes to shame being bare."
Alice wrapped her fingers about his hand, shuddering at how warm it was compared to hers. He offered her a sympathetic smile, "We also have a fire in our workshop, so you'd be able to get warm."
Offering him a knowing smile Alice nodded her head in agreement. "Very well then…what did you say tour name was?" She feigned ignorance, not wanting to sound impolite by hinting she had been eavesdropping.
"Tarrant! Tarrant Hightopp!" He replied, a proud swell in his breast. "Shall I escort you to my Father's shop, then?" He dropped her hand and tilted his small elbow toward her. Alice smiled sweetly.
"It would be an honor, Mister Hightopp," she mused, wrapping her arm about his smaller one. Snow crunching under his merry gait, Tarrant led Alice down the lane and though the streets of Witzend.
Alice slipped a hand into her pocket to be sure she still had the Chronosphere on hand.
She noticed the streets were bustling with people as Tarrant led her down through the main square, her head turning as she further noted that the occupants weren't dressed in simple clothes but donned their courtly attire.
"What is with all the festivities?" Alice mused, looking around her at the rainbow of colors.
"Aren't you from around here?" Tarrant tilted his head up at her, his ginger brows twisting. She noticed he had a splay of freckles across his small nose.
"I'm afraid not," Alice answered. "I'm from…Umbridge." Alice figured the lie had worked once before.
Tarrant narrowed his green eyes as he looked up at her, a wry grin crossing his lips. Her heart beat as she took in his skeptical look, but just as quickly as he gazed at her suspiciously did he shrug his shoulders, watching the path before them again. "Never heard of it," he answered. "Anyway, it's Princess Iracebeth's debutante ball."
"Oh?" Alice looked toward the castle in the distance that was decorated in the finest of purples and crimsons. "How old is she now?"
"You're really not from around here," Tarrant answered, pulling her along as she paused to watch the castle in the distance. "She turned sixteen just last month. Witzend has been preparing for this stupid ball all year."
"Stupid ball?" Alice asked with a slight wrinkle of her nose, teasing him lightly.
"It's so she can meet some handsome prince and get married and all that," Tarrant answered her, rolling his large eyes.
"Doesn't Iracebeth have a sister?" Alice asked.
"I thought you didn't know anything about here," Tarrant mused, but carried on nonetheless. "Yes, her name is Mirana. She's only eleven, though."
"You seem like you're about her age," Alice offered.
"I'm ten," Tarrant answered.
"Well, perhaps you'll find her sister rather interesting when she has her debutante ball?"
"Yuck!" Tarrant made a face. "Don't get me wrong, Mirana is nice and all, but princesses are so boring," he rolled his eyes and Alice had to lift her hand to her mouth to hide her grin. "They have to follow rules and be prim and proper and do everything just right. It's hard enough doing what my father says and it's incredibly dull."
"And perhaps you'll meet a girl whose fallen down a rabbit hole several times," Alice offered instead.
"That sounds like a much more interesting type of person; after all, it isn't just regular people that fall down holes. It's the ones who have gone 'round the bend. Entirely bonkers!" He stopped suddenly a shop looming before the two of them; Alice slipped as she tried to avoid bumping into him.
"And you know what they say about those people," Alice muttered.
"All the best people are," Tarrant responded, having heard her. He pulled her up a few steps, giving her no time to respond as he pulled her through a teal colored door. A small bell chimed as they entered.
A man with flaming red hair stood at a table, his hands around the crown of a hat that he was gently applying steam to, his practiced fingers slowly bending the material as it softened. A passively amused grin crossed his face as he watched his son drag Alice through the door; she offered who she assumed to be Mr. Hightopp a smile.
He turned to the two and she noticed he wore a sensible brown suit with a white dress shirt beneath, a bland bowtie tucked in the collar. Aside from the red hair there was little commonality between the father and the son.
"Father look!" Tarrant exclaimed proudly. "A customer with a lovely head right here!"
Mr. Hightopp did not say a word, holding up a finger to his son to indicate it would be just a moment. Tarrant sighed, his countenance falling as he shrank at Alice's side. Alice was a bit disappointed that Mr. Hightopp wasn't more enthralled by his son trying to expand the family business, but remembered that her Tarrant had told her that he was a rather serious sort. The room fell into awkward silence as Mr. Hightopp placed the hat already in his hand down on the shop desk, turning in his own time to face his son and Alice.
In the meantime, Tarrant turned to look up at her with wide green eyes, trying his best to continue the family business. "What is the hat of your heart's desire, madam?" He mused, his eyes searching the sky as he began to invent suggestion. "Something…feathery?" He pulled a miniature squawking bird from his coat sleeve, Alice's smile spreading wide in amusement and amazement. He was not done with his tricks however, as he reached into his coat with his other hand while asking, "Something buttony?" Pulling out buttons of varying sizes and colors dangling from strings. Alice laughed at his endearing show-off-ness.
Mr. Hightopp stepped forward interrupting his son's fanciful show. Sliding measuring tape that he kept around his neck into his hands, he finally acknowledged Alice. "Good afternoon, Miss," his voice was even and calm, a far cry from the lilting lisping voice of the Tarrant she knew.
"Good afternoon, sir," she answered back, folding her hands before her waist. She watched as Tarrant quickly stepped out of the way so that his father could speak to her.
"The function of a hat," Mr. Hightopp began, and Alice realized this lesson was more for Tarrant than she. She bowed her head forward so that the older milliner could place the measuring tape about her crown. "Is to follow the proper dictum of society. Not to be fun," he pulled the tape from Alice's head, satisfied with his measurement and then looked down to his son pointedly.
Alice listened quietly, wondering how on earth the mad man she had come to grow so fond of came from such a stern man.
"I have something fun," Tarrant answered, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling forth a small item. Alice leaned over him to see what he had produced, a gasp emanating from her lips.
In his hands young Tarrant held the small blue hat with the same button and the same feather. She watched as he proudly presented it to his father.
Mr. Hightopp took the small hat from his son's hands, squinting his entire face to examine the small object. "What is it?" He turned the small creation over and over in his hands.
Tarrant wilted once more, his eager smile melting as he realized his father didn't recognize what he had most likely worked so hard on. "It's a hat!"
"Oh Tarrant," his father's voice was filled with weariness as his fingers pulled at the blue felt. "You've got in on backwards!" His large fingers began to pull it roughly, much to his son's dismay.
"Stop, you'll ruin it!" Tarrant's young voice was filled with tears and anguish as he stepped toward his father to try to grab the creation back. Alice watched on with sadness, feeling awkward and unable to say anything to intervene.
The tearing of paper and felt filled the room as Mr. Hightopp pulled the paper too hard, ripping the top. "Oh dear!" He cried, looking between the two pieces that lay in his hand. Alice gasped once more, her heart shattering as she watched the father carelessly toss the ruined gift aside. "Oh well, tomorrow I'll show you precisely how to make a proper hat!" He tossed the ruined hat into the trash bin right before his son's welling eyes.
Alice watched as he patted the boy on the shoulder before abruptly turning back to his work. Alice stood stock still, glancing out of the corner of her eye as she watched Tarrant's face fall, his mouth wrenching as his large green eyes filled with tears. Compassion filled her heart and she was going to reach out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but the opening of the door behind them startled the woman. Tarrant ran through the small workshop and straight to the stairs across the room, climbing them in twos as his soft sobs could be heard in his wake.
"Tarrant?" A lilting accented voice asked as the door opened. Alice turned to see a woman with flying red hair enter, her body was wrapped in an emerald green shawl. A basket handle was draped over her arm and Alice noticed it was filled with baked goods as she set it on the counter.
"You're too hard on him, Zanik," the woman scolded what Alice assumed was this woman's husband.
This is Tarrant's mother, she realized, her own green eyes widening as she took in the sight of the older woman before her.
"Hatting is a serious business," Zanik turned away from his work to address his wife, his voice filled with an oddly stoic passion. His wife seemed less pleased as she pulled her shawl from her shoulders, throwing them down on the table beside her basket, her gloves quickly following. "I can't have his frivolous ideas keep him from his true potential."
If only you knew, Alice wanted to shout that he was wrong, that Tarrant would be the best hatter there was, but instead she kept quiet, allowing the domestic to continue before her as she watched on stiffly.
"Now," he addressed Alice before his wife laid into him. The red headed woman turned, her green eyes widening in embarrassment as she beheld the customer she had walked on by, distracted by her distraught child. "Yes," Zanik hummed, taking a fine ladies' top hat in hands. "Yes, I think this hat will suit you perfectly,"
His wife quickly skirted the room, not wanting to involve herself in her husband's business. Alice wished she would stay, hoping that perhaps she would be receptive to what news Alice was going to deliver.
"Thank you ever so much, Mr. Hightopp," Alice ducked in a half bow. "But I'm afraid that I've come for a different purpose?"
"Oh?" The man asked.
The wife returned from the next room, a quizzical look on her sharper features.
"I'm afraid I have some bad news," Alice began, chewing her lip nervously.
"Does it have to do with cousin James?" The wife began, approaching Alice with wide eyes. "I always told him he should avoid the Outlands, one never knows what creatures are lurking out there, but he never does listen!"
"Tyva, please!" Zanik turned on his wife, a flash of annoyance crossing his phlegmatic features.
Tyva pressed closer, noticing the pinkness of Alice's flushed cheeks and bare hands. "Oh dear, have you been out in the cold in that silk costume? You must be freezing!"
Tyva stood before Alice and the younger woman was finally able to get a good look at Mrs. Hightopp. Her wild red curls were half tied back with a black lace polka dotted ribbon, but most of had fallen free over the course of the day, framing her long pale face like a mane. She a plain white undergown with a familiar tartan patterned overgown tucked over top and tied about her waist. A wide smile crossed her rosy cheeks as she ushered Alice deeper into her home.
"You must have a cup of tea…I'm sorry I didn't hear your name?" Tyva grabbed her about the arm, pulling her into the house.
"Alice," Alice answered, a patient grin crossing her face.
"Please, come in,"
Alice's mind harkened back to the crashing of the Castle of Eternity, her fingers brushing over the sphere in her pocket. "I'm afraid I can't stay long."
"Are you heading off to the young princess' ball?" The mother smiled warmly.
"You could say that," Alice conceded. Zanik had stepped away from his wife's sympathy, returning to the hat he had been interrupted from when Tarrant brought Alice into the house.
"Zanik, you're being rude!" Tyva scolded.
"I'm fast at work; you know that Elspeth is going to want to go to the ball this evening, which means you will be out late which means I will need to keep my eye on Tarrant and Rhys while you take Elspeth and Siobhan." The man's voice was lined with irritation.
"Such may be the case," Tyva answered her husband, rolling her eyes. "But I don't want to see Tare and Rhys down here hatting. And you know Tare will be honest with me," she pointed a finger at her husband in warning.
Alice smiled at the lilt in Tyva's voicing understanding that indeed Tarrant was Tyva's soon.
"I'm trying to teach my sons the family trade," Zanik replied with dispassionate emphasis.
"And you can do that every other day. Take them out to throw snowballs at one another, build a fort, go and buy them some sweets!" Tyva threw her hands in the air as she turned to Alice with an apologetic grin. "I hate to keep you from your journey, miss. I know you said you had news?"
"A cup of tea might be useful," Alice nodded her head, not sure of how to break the news so suddenly.
"Of course!" Tyva grinned, Zanik sighing in the background. "Come, I'll put the kettle on. I have some of the finest china and I never get much use from it."
Alice followed the woman as she passed her husband, she chatting gaily while her spouse ignored. Alice assumed this was regular business in the house. She nodded to Zanik as she passed his work bench.
"Good luck to you, my wife is a mad woman," Zanik whispered. "Especially when she's not had company in several."
Alice nodded her head, her spirits perking at the warning. At least she knew now where Tarrant came from.
A final glance back before being dragged into the next room made Alice's heart skip.
Thinking that all had their back turned, Zanik reached down into the trash to retrieve the ruined paper hat, admiring the crude handiwork more closely. With an impressed nod of his head, Zanik's thumb stroked the feather before he tucked the paper hat into his pocket.
Alice's eyes widened. He'd kept the hat. Alice watched with wide eyes. He had kept the hat because he was proud of his son.
She was about to say something, but Tyva yanking her into the kitchen stopped her with frozen words on her tongue.
"And so I told Mrs. Stainbottom that she could just hurry along with those scones, as I had a family to celebrate with this evening," Tyva chatted on as she poured Alice a stiff cup of tea. The blonde had not been able to get a word in edgewise with all the woman's chatting. "I'm sorry, m'dear, I get to talking and I'm just a ball of useless nonsense." She waved her hand as she took a seat across from Alice.
Alice glanced around the kitchen with a smile on her face, finding comfort in the organized chaos. Pots and pans lined walls, hung on pegs and nails. Ingredients were tossed about the counter, mismatched tea items peered out from behind see through cabinets. The room was filled with socks that were being darned, paintings that had been sketched by young artists, and several plates of cookies. "I hope you don't mind the mess," Tyva's cheeks pinked as she looked down to the worn Persian rug beneath their feet.
"Not at all," Alice shook her head. "It's…it's nice. It reminds me of someone I know who is very ill."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Tyva responded with genuine sincerity, her hand reaching out to caress Alice's gently.
"It's why I've come here today," Alice cleared her throat nervously. "You see…I'm from a different time."
Tyva cocked her head, her green eyes widening as she looked at the visitor curiously. Alice's gaze went to the piping hot tea before her, her fingers dancing about the lip. "I come from the future, where I know your son…Tarrant."
Tyva nodded her head, not stopping Alice, though her mouth was hanging slightly agape.
"And…well…in this future you don't know Tarrant because…well, you're dead." Alice flushed at her uncouthness.
"I see," Tyva nodded her head.
"And I came here because the reason your dead is because Iracebeth is going to go horribly mad and she's going to unleash a Jabberwocky on Mirana and it'll be in the midst of your family's village and a lot of people are going to be slain by the Jabberwocky and that means all of you. Only Tarrant will survive…and…well…he'll end up helping me one day as I return to Underland to slay the Jabberwocky. Except I won't remember Underland and he'll be the most patient with me, even risking his freedom and safety for me, and I will take back the crown for Mirana and Iracebeth will be banished and I'll go back home to England…to above…but I'll be brought back through a looking glass because your son will be sick because he'll think you are all alive." The words fell quickly from Alice's mouth, her eyes watching the steam from her tea curl. "And so…I came to warn you of the Frabjous Day, in the hopes that maybe you'll know about it and you'll be able to…live."
She looked up to Tyva who was listening in rapt silence. Her green eyes were wide and her cheeks were pallid, her pink mouth slightly agape. Alice winced as the lady watched her intently.
"You're mad, aren't you?" Tyva asked after a long pause.
"Bonkers, I'm afraid." Alice answered with a smile.
Zanik entered the kitchen and saw the look on his wife's face. "Whatever is it, Tyva? Bad news?"
"Alice here says she's from the future and insists that we are all to be slain on the Frabjous Day," Tyva explained to her husband.
"Is this true?" Zanik's brilliant blue eyes widened.
Alice ducked, "It's fewer words than is apt to explain, but in a nutshell, yes."
"Get out." Zanik's placid voice was filled with rage.
"Zanik!" Tyva scolded. The patriarch grabbed Alice about the arm tightly, pulling her roughly from the chair.
"I think your time here, Miss, has been long overspent," Zanik pulled her from the kitchen and through his workshop.
"Zanik!" Tyva hurried after the pair. "You cannot banish a fhàidh," she insisted.
"Oh no!" Zanik addressed his wife while pushing Alice towards the door. Tarrant and another boy who looked much like him only several years older were descending the stairs to investigate the ruckus. "There are too many fanciful stories in this house already! No wonder our children are obsessed with fleeting fancies."
Alice twisted under the grasp, her hands pushing against Zanik's. When the man had reached the door, he flew it open, depositing Alice onto the snow. "Good day, Miss." He nodded curtly before slamming the door in her face.
"Wait!" Alice stood, rushing to begin pounding on the door. "Wait, please! Mr. Hightopp! It's the Frabjous Day! You don't understand!"
She saw the interested faces of Tarrant and whom she assumed must be Rhys in the window next to the door before Zanik's hands pulled them away, shutting the curtains with gusto. He glared at her before doing so.
"Please!" Alice tried once more before abandoning the idea. There was no way he would listen to her ravings and she had already told Tyva who might listen.
Turning from the house dejectedly Alice decided it might be interesting to investigate Iracebeth's coming out ball while she was in this period of time. She began her long hike up the roads of Witzend to the castle just beyond, wishing that she had been able to drink some of the warm tea Tyva had made for her.
The ball was just beginning as Alice arrived, courtiers and well-dressed townsfolk lined the halls as they all waited for the princess.
Alice entered the grand foyer where the entering attendees were forming a semi-circle around the landing of an ornate set of stairs. The stairs descended from a second landing that married two spiraling staircases together, the next landing was the balcony that led to what Alice assumed was the palace occupant's private quarters. Pushing her way through the crowd Alice stood in the swell of the circle opposite the main landing.
Standing to the right of the stairs, just to the side of the bannister, was a regal looking woman. She had gorgeous golden hair that was plaited and wrapped in a pearl hairpiece, a twinkling silver crown decorated with diamonds and turquoise sat upon her head. Her warm long face was decorated with a kind smile and wide brown eyes. She was wearing a golden matron's gown, the high collar framing the back of her head prettily. A large pearl cross necklace graced her thin neck and Alice caught sight of a pretty stone sitting upon her right ring finger.
This must be the Queen, Alice quickly looked to the girl at her side. Mirana was a rather scrawny creature, her long thin arms cross before her flat chest. She donned a royal ball gown in the lightest shade of purple possible. Her lips were their usual hue, stained a deep purple, her dark eyes watching the room with disinterest. A long strand of pearls was looped twice about her neck, but still hung to just above the skirt-line of her waist. Her dark eyebrows rose in disinterest as she studied the room in obvious boredom, one finger twisting in her spiraling white hair. Her mother had a hand on her shoulder, beaming up the staircase proudly.
A rabbit appeared at the top of the stairs, looking oddly like McTwisp, but Alice knew it was not him, blowing a trumpet which quieted the entire room. Alice stumbled forward as the crowd surged behind her, the last minute occupants trying to squeeze into the room to watch the ceremony.
The rabbit scampered down the stairs quickly, taking his place at the base of the bannister opposite the queen and younger princess. The attention of the room went heavenward as a dashing man stepped out from the right hall, his tall body dressed in a pure white coat, gold embroidering about the lapels, shoulders, and cuffs designated him an important person. He wore black trousers and black shoes beneath. His square face was covered in a thick even black beard, his equally voluminous black hair brushed in waves over his stiff collar. His eyes were bright blue and as warm and kind as his queen's as he watched the girl take her place at the top of the stairs opposite him.
She had emerged from the left side of the staircase, primly and quietly. Iracebeth was lean, but not as lanky as Mirana. She still had a slight air of childhood about her, but her face was long and well defined. Her eyebrows were pencil thin and black as night even at this age, her entire head its proper size. Her eyes were as dark as her mother's as she smiled across at her father with painted red lips, still in the shape of a heart. Her eyebrows were bright blue against her white powder, her red hair pulled tightly against her head and tucked into a bun instead of shaped into a heart. She was simultaneously Iracebeth and not Iracebeth.
The woman wore a beautiful gown, its top a ruffling black, lacey sleeves graced her pale shoulders. Her bodice was covered in a beautiful gold brocade. Her outer skirts a beautiful crimson color, the underskirt peeking out from the front of the dress where the over-skirt split was a gold to match the bodice. She looked regal and enchanting as she lifted her long skirts lightly, her bustling bouncing as she descended the stairs to the next landing. Here she met her father, he bowed to her reverently before offering his elbow. Iracebeth took it with the haughty rise of her chin.
A girl of sixteen, budding and sure and beautiful, Alice smiled to herself, hardly accepting that this was the girl who would later blossom into a tyrant.
"I, King Oleron," the man placed his hand to his chest, indicating next to his wife at the base of the stairs, "Along with my wife, Queen Elsemere, present our daughter, Iracebeth of Witzend, Princess of the Castle Pasdeuxtris, as eligible to begin searching for a proper husband. A man who will take my place when I am taken by Time and who will support my daughter while she balances the demands of ruling a kingdom. Let only the worthy grace my beloved girl with their efforts." King Oleron paused as the crowd about Alice began to clap before descending the final staircase with Iracebeth on his arm.
Queen Elsemere enclosed her daughter in a hug, placing a kiss on her cheek much to the girl's disgust. Mirana looked positively dissatisfied as the attention swept to her sister.
Alice watched as Iracebeth made eye contact with a young courtier to her left; a boy who appeared to be about her age. He had dark shaggy hair and striking blue eyes and Alice could see the appeal a young man as such could have on an impressionable young lady. He watched Iracebeth for a brief moment before turning into the crowd, much to the girl's apparent dismay.
The crowd about Alice began to make their way into the great hall, pushing her alongside in the bustle. Reluctantly she allowed herself to be bounced along, the smells of enticing cuisines next door reminding Alice of how hungry she had become. She figured it would not hurt to have a meal and enjoy watching a dance or to. She herself did not enjoy her own season, but she had found the parties and gossip surrounding them fun in her younger days. There would be time to return the Chronosphere later. After all, she had all the time in the world in her pocket.
Alice was soon reminded that as much as she found the novelty of such events enjoyable, they grew quickly dull after about an hour of watching awkward young girls dance about with handsome young men, the joy lighting in their faces when asked by a boy they especially admired.
Alice had also spotted Tyva Hightopp entering with two redheaded girls at her side, Elspeth and Siobhan if Alice were to guess, and she knew that it would be a matter of time before she was sighted by Tyva who found her fascinating. Alice figured it would be best to avoid contact with a woman whose husband had thrown Alice out his doors hours earlier. Skirting alongside the edge of the hall Alice quickly made for the large ornate mother-of-pearl doors which led to the grand foyer and then out the front doors. She had nearly made it when a shriek filled the air.
All turned to see that an entire punch bowl had been upended and several tarts were scattered all about the floor. Mirana stood coolly behind the table where the punchbowl had been sitting, her dark eyes watching as the recipient of the unwelcomed shower stood before the table.
Alice burned in secondhand embarrassment as she instantly recognized the girl-turned-woman. Iracebeth's gorgeous debutante gown was ruined by the red liquid that was seeping quickly into the fine fabric. Angry tears filled her brown eyes as she glared at her sister with disdain.
"You did it on purpose!" Iracebeth screamed. Mirana blinked back, her big brown eyes reflecting innocence.
"I did not!" She retorted.
"You did so! It's because everyone is paying attention to me for once!" Iracebeth fumed. The ballroom fell silent as the girls began their row before the court.
Alice sympathized with both sisters until she saw one more witness to the tragedy. Standing beside Mirana behind the safety of the table was the dark haired blue eyed boy that Iracebeth had sent an amorous glance to earlier that evening. Alice had half hoped that he would dance with the debutante just to be cordial, but he had neglected the princess all evening. Stepping closer she saw a coy look on the younger princess' face.
Mirana did it to embarrass her sister, Alice thought despondently. And now the foolish girl has ruined the entire evening.
Alice watched as Elsemere and Oleron rushed to their daughter's side. "Iracebeth," Elsemere's voice was light and hushed.
"Please, play us a number to liven our spirit!" King Oleron looked to the fish band that provided a live orchestra in the corner. The creatures blinked clueless for a moment, before nodding their gaping maws in understanding, beginning the notes of a lively dance number.
Alice sidled closer to the scene that was continuing to grow as Mirana remained silent and Iracebeth raged. "Iracebeth, please, you must calm down. This is no way for a lady to behave."
"She spilled the punch and ruined this dress on purpose!" Iracebeth screamed, pointing an accusing finger at Mirana.
"Now sweetheart, why would Mira do something like that?" The king shook his head. Iracebeth looked pointedly at the boy at Mirana's side. He stepped away, quickly slipping into the crowd of revelers at the end of the table. The look of hurt that flashed across the abandoned princess' face was palpable.
"She is jealous of me!" Iracebeth answered. "She wanted to make me look like a fool!"
"Mirana," Queen Elsemere looked across the table to her youngest daughter, her dark eyes searching the girl's face. "Did you do this on purpose?"
"No," Mirana responded immediately, shaking her white locks. The smile that crept up at the edges of her face when her parents turned their backs told a different story.
"She's always doing this! Always lying! Because you believe her over me! It's the same thing with the tarts, it's the same thing with mother's earrings, it's the same thing with the spells!" Iracebeth raged. Her mother tried to putt a soothing hand on her daughter's arm, but Iracebeth ripped away.
She took off sprinting out of the room, her hands covering her face as tears of shame and heartbreak began. Alice froze as Iracebeth rushed by her, rustling her skirts as passed; Alice turned to glance back at the king and queen as they looked to each other before racing off after the princess. Inspired by their efforts and spurred by her own insatiable curiosity, Alice also gave chase.
The girl was quick, slipping through the doors and pushing past the growing number of guests to enter the foyer. Alice speed after her, following her as the girl sprinted outside the castle doors.
"If you don't wish to hear me, I don't wish to be princess anymore!" She cried dramatically.
Alice heard King Oleron and Queen Elsemere shout after their daughter, Elsemere gripping her skirts as she hurried after her eldest, Oleron struggling to run despite his improper footwear.
Iracebeth led the pursuers on a chase down the stairs that led up to the castle's front door, down the long walkway through the marble gates, and into the midst of Witzend. Alice watched as the girl slipped several times on the snow, catching her balance, narrowly escaping several potential face-plants into the slick cobblestone.
Hurrying through the streets, Iracebeth made straight for the square. Alice pushed past the townsfolk who had stayed home from the debutante ball, mostly older women and ineligible men, stumbling out of pubs and shops to see what the commotion was about. As Alice pushed through a rather large gathering of men lurching out of a bar, all stinking of a sweet alcohol as they swayed on their feet, she heard a squeal of pain.
Terror overtook her limbs as she pushed past to see the fallen princess laying at the base of a statue carved in the likeness of her father; the pale girl lay motionless in the snow. Alice nearly rushed to the girl's side to see if the child was still alive, but instead side stepped to allow the anxious parents hot on her tail to reach their daughter first. The crowd of bawdy men had immediately stepped to the side when they caught sight of the King and Queen of Underland hurrying through their midst.
"Iracebeth!" Her mother screamed, falling to her knees she hugged her limp child to her chest. "Oh Time, Iracebeth!" She cried.
"Is she...?" King Oleron reached out to touch the curve of his daughter's neck gently. He paused a moment before his blue eyes widened. "Doctor, we need a doctor!" He screamed, ripping the girl from her mother's arms.
Alice noticed the snow at the base of the sculpture was stained red, large drops plopped into the pure white powder as Oleron held his daughter's body. As he turned, looking for any sort of help Alice saw the source of all the blood.
A large gash split Iracebeth's head from her left hairline to her right cheek, the nasty slash cutting across an eyebrow and past her nose which lay crumpled on her face.
I must have done something, Alice panicked as she beheld a wound that would certainly permanently mar any being, Underlandian or not. Oh Time, what have I done?
Turning on her heels quickly to evade the scene she nearly knocked into another being behind her.
There stood Tarrant, his young face looking up to her kindly.
"Are you alright, Miss?" He asked.
"Please," Alice looked down at him imploringly. "I have to go,"
Tarrant nodded his head in understanding. "I heard what you told my mother tonight," he grabbed her hand, pausing her for a moment. Alice stopped, turning to place her hands on both sides of his round face.
"Don't forget it, Tarrant Hightopp, promise me that!" She begged.
"My mother says you're a fhàidh, but my father says it's all nonsense." He canted his head. Alice felt tears coming to her eyes.
"Perhaps it is," she agreed. "But I promise you what I tell you is true. Now, I need to go and make something right," Alice took his small hand in hers, squeezing it roughly.
"I hope I meet you again someday," he stepped towards her as if to follow.
"You will," she turned, sniffing away her tears.
Leaving him behind, Alice took the Chronosphere from her pocket, hurrying to the edge of town before rolling it forward, unleashing its full potential.
Hopping inside she quickly pulled the hanging chain, depressing the lever as she burst forward, once again being swallowed by the Ocean of Time.
The Chronosphere bounced along, hissing and sputtering, Alice desperately trying to fight for control as she headed back to the future. Have I ruined all of this? Her mind raced as she tried to steer the electric ball straight.
The days of the Oraculum began to spin quickly toward the future, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to remember the day she had just come from. Was it Relux? Or possibly Talida? The compass clicked at dizzying speeds as she shot forward.
Eyeing the memory clouds that flew by she spotted one that was a loop of a joyful looking Mirana in the hall of Marmoreal. Alice quickly shot into the bubble, hoping it was the day she left. She looked to the Oraculum before her.
Caviamour she noted as she neared the flashback
Her mind was reeling with the scene of an injured Iracebeth, her heart pounding as she realized that maybe the girl hadn't survived the encounter. I don't remember meddling, Alice worried, her eyes narrowing as she headed for the memory bubble. Perhaps I ruined everything by visiting the Hightopps. She had either chosen wrongly or had altered Time in way she would come to dread.
Unless…unless Iracebeth dying means that the Jabberwocky will not come to pass, a small hope welled in her chest as she pushed forward toward the swelling wave.
The Chronosphere burst through the memory with a jolt, but Alice was prepared for the jerk and held tightly to the band about the sphere's middle. She stayed upright, slowing the Chronosphere to avoid a crash landing, setting the sphere onto the dark grass under an unfamiliar night sky.
Stepping warily from the orb Alice turned to the castle with a sharp inhale. This was Marmoreal, not Witzend or Salazen Grum, and all looked well. Perhaps she had changed the future. Perhaps she had saved the Hightopps inadvertently.
Which means I won't be needed for the Frabjous Day, a passing idea shook Alice's core. Shaking the thought from her head she hoped that even if the Jabberwocky was stopped, her friends would still need her.
Would still know her.
Scooping down she picked up the sphere once more, tucking it away in her pocket.
She hoped that this Time she had chosen correctly.
A/N: Just a few things.
Yes, I know that Rhys and Siobhan and Elspeth were not the names of the characters standing in for Tarrant's (rather small?) family. But I'm sorry, I am not using stupid and meaningless names like Paloo and Pimlick and Bumalig which most of them have no name meanings, when names like Tyva, Tarrant, and Zanik have been chosen.
Fhàid, as best as I can tell, means prophetess in Scottish Gaelic. I have figured Tyva was from a Scottish-influenced clan in Underland and that is where she gets her light accent from in the movie and where Tarrant is influenced in both his angry brogue and his tartan.
I based the different aged Mirana/Iracebeth on one photo I found not long after the original movie. It can be found on my tumblr page (the-resplendent-furiosa) at (/) post (/) 7570589217 (/) story-inspiration-3-katemars-alice-in. I'll put a link for it in my profile page so you can find it more easily.
And sorry to all that hate that I'm adding a bit of a jilted-love angle to this story, but in my defense it was already hinted at in the original AiW 2010. Props to those of you who remember/identify it. (Hint, a certain Knave points it out).
As always, leave a comment and a like if you can. They're always appreciated. And my PM inbox is ALWAYS open and I do my best to reply ASAP. I love talking with my readers and sometimes I drop hints in PMs, so yeah. Hit. Me. Up.
Until next update!
Fairfarren
Lydia