Chapter 3:

Hatter's

The next morning…

They left the tented sanctuary at the ass-crack of dawn and hiked their way through the hills to Heart Country.

Tawny passed the tedious traveling time by having Alice describe her adventures in Wonderland, when she was a child and a more detailed one of her latest than what Will's quick synopsis had supplied.

She also learned the reason why Alice had been sent back to her father's. She had caught her brother-in-law cheating on her sister, and when she had tried to tell her, Alice's 'story' had been chalked up as another lie from an attention seeking child.

Tawny gave her friend a hug at this, but what she really wanted to do was let loose a string of curses on her behalf, especially when she learned of Bedlam.

When they arrived on Tweedle's front stoop, the Rabbit knocked. A woman in a powdered wig answered, took one look at the crowd of individuals awaiting entry and hastily slammed the door in their faces. Tawny was able to hear hissed anxious whispering on the other side, before another individual with a powdered wig (male and with a red lightning bolt tattoo) poked his head out.

Looking directly at Alice, he hissed, "Not here. The Mad Hatter's at sundown. Now go away before someone sees you."

His head disappeared, and the door was shut with a decided click.

"Well, I never…" protested Alice in disbelief.

"You are known as Red Queen sympathizers in a land that does not love her, so much as fears her," explained the Rabbit, leaving off the clearly understood 'so what did you expect?'

She certainly hadn't expected this kind of reaction, and neither must have Cyrus as he asked, "Even though it must be well known by now that she helped us defeat Jafar?"

"One good deed after years of neglect is not enough in most people's eyes," was the regretful reply.

Killian nudged her. When she looked at him, his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin as he teased, "They must not share your opinion about singular good deeds and roads of redemption, lass."

"Must not," she agreed with a grin of her own.

Understandably, no one was appreciative of their inside joke, and so it was only the two of them who were smiling as they trouped back out onto the road to Jefferson's old place, especially, since the Rabbit decided to part ways with them and head on home to his family.

As soon as he was out of earshot, she caught up to Alice and stated, "I couldn't help but notice that you never explained how you caught the Rabbit and stuffed him into your rucksack."

"Oh? I suppose, I didn't," Alice mused thoughtfully. "It seemed rather rude to while he was here and all."

"I thought so," she concurred. "Bad form and all, to talk about an abduction, while the victim is being so helpful."

Both Killian and Will snorted quietly at this remark. But Alice ignored it, saying, "Yes, well, the second time I came to Wonderland, I spotted him in the Queen's Wood in London, so I followed him down the Hole and trailed him to Hatter's, who was having a tea party. I was manhandled into attending it by Haigha and Dormouse, and Rabbit got away. Hatter promised to help me bag him, if I promised to take him with me to where I was going."

"Why did he want to go to your land?" she inquired. "He never would give me a straight answer."

It was Will who explained, interjecting, "His plan, and later ours, was to coerce him into taking us to the Forest, which he had adamantly been refusing to do, on account of the Curse, I suppose…But he got away from us after he returned Alice to her family."

'Hmmm…Stranded in Victorian England by the wily White Rabbit? No wonder he eyed Grace's stuffed bunny with such disgust…'

And so their conversation went as they made their way through the Tulgey Woods.

When they finally arrived at Hatter's, it was ironically tea time. Alice and Cyrus provided their repast, having picked up supplies at a pastry vendor's at the edge of town.

Resisting the urge to comment on the stacks and stacks of hats that littered the hovel ('Hoarder, much?' or 'Quite the fabric fetish our Jefferson has?' were her two favorites), Tawny asked, "So how is it that roughly 30 years later, you look not a year older, Alice? I didn't think the Curse's time-bubble extended beyond Storybrooke and the Forest."

Alice frowned in puzzlement and reluctantly admitted, "I don't know," before beseechingly looking at her more worldly experienced fiancé.

He kindly obliged, explaining, "As I understand it, not all the realms move at the same pace. And it's possible that when Rabbit went to get the Knave, his portal skimmed around this 'bubble' until after the Curse was broken."

She contemplated this for a moment and then mused, "So it's a timey-wimey-wibbly-wobbly thing?"

Everyone looked at her like she had gone hatters, except for Will, who groaned at the British pop culture reference, and for Cyrus. He looked at her with respect, saying, "I see you've met the Genie-of-the-Blue-Box."

She grinned widely, "Met? No. Heard of? Yes. Didn't know he was a genie. How fascinating. I always wondered if there was some truth to his fiction."

"He may not be a genie. In most of the stories I heard, he didn't seem to be confined by the normal genie laws of Three Wishes and a Master. So your versions may be more accurate," the former genie conceded. "What was he?"

Tawny never did get to answer that question, as the man they had all been waiting for had arrived, much to Will's relief, who upon seeing the man at the hovel's door had let out a muttered 'Oh thank god.'

"Tweedle, at your service," the impeccably dressed servant introduced himself with a bow.

"Tweedle? Are you the 'Dee' or 'Dum' brother?" she inquired, hoping he was the former if he was to be their reliable informant.

"It's just 'Tweedle'," Will explained, "Titles are more important in Wonderland than names."

"And who are you?" Tweedle inquired pointedly.

From over his shoulder, she could see Killian arch an eyebrow at her in anticipation of her reply. His interest was unsurprising. He had always been amused by her reluctance to share her name or any of her various aliases with strangers.

She was saved by Alice, who said, "She's a friend. She's here to help Anastasia."

"Well, I hope she can do a better job than my mistress's other so-called 'friends'," he sniffed. "I mean, letting my Queen get captured! Do you know what she has planned for her?"

Over Will's low growl, Alice softly pleaded, "No, we do not. We were hoping you could tell us."

"That – that head-happy harpy is going to hold her on trial!" he exclaimed, and in ever increasing agitation, he revealed, "She has let all of Red queendom know that they are welcome to come and bring their complaints before her on the Ides of Ianus, inviting nobles and commoners alike, and she will render her 'impartial' judgment!"

The distraught man looked at them all with hopelessness, obviously not taking very much encouragement from the Black Queen's claim of impartiality. When they did not immediately respond, he dramatically wrung his be-gloved hands, bemoaning, "Oh, my poor mistress! She'll be executed! And that monarch is so barbaric in her executions! Do you know how she does them?"

They all stared at him blankly, taken aback by his theatrics.

"Un-reversible beheadings."

~0~

After that hysterical disclosure, the man collapsed onto a pile of hats. Alice offered him a cup of tea, like any good Englishwoman would, and he gratefully accepted.

Once the overwrought servant had taken a few restorative sips, Lancelot inquired, sounding quite skeptical, "Un-reversible beheadings?"

"Er… yeah," Will answered, adjusting his collar nervously. Tawny noted this and wondered if he had had a close call of his own. Before she could ask, he continued with his explanation. "A 'civilized' beheading here is done with a blade that severs the head from the body, but does not kill you."

"Jefferson was beheaded that way by Cora," she interjected, "when she was here and then later 'reversed' it. It leaves a nasty scar."

"Ah, so that explains his fondness for neckwear, even in the height of summer," her pirate in the peanut gallery chimed in drolly.

It was a comment not appreciated by Tweedle, who cried immediately in outrage, "You jest? He jests! About neckwear! When my Queen's neck is practically on the chopping block!"

Killian rolled his eyes and blandly ordered, "Calm yourself. I understand this is a grave matter."

Tweedle looked at him suspiciously, clearly unsure if the poor choice of words was intentional one or not. She knew it was and shot him a filthy look before saying to Lancelot, "It's not the beheading I find unbelievable. It's the commoners being invited to try a noble. Or even the trial in general. Guinevere was not one to 'cater to the masses' as she would put it."

Lancelot said nothing to this, as he could not refute her remark at all, since both had been witnesses to more than one argument between king and queen on this and similar subjects.

~0~

Camelot

Private hall of king

Arthur threw himself tiredly into a chair in front of the fire, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly, giving Lancelot enough time to move his hand discreetly away from the back of Guinevere's neck.

Tanwen ignored this as best she could and signaled for Arthur's squire to fetch his king some mead. Guinevere was obviously not going to see to her husband's needs. She was too busy frowning in annoyance at him.

"Another long plaintiff day?"

Arthur nodded in response to his wife's barely sympathetic query.

"I don't understand why you insist on catering to the masses. That's what the lords and barons are for."

The king looked at his wife in disbelief, clearly dumbfounded at her lack of understanding. Finally, he asked exasperatedly, "And who would you suggest that they go to when the lords and barons are not doing their duty?"

Ignoring his question, she griped, "And I suppose you are going to have another one of your extensive 'investigation periods' and trials before you go gallivanting off on your next crusade? During which, you are going to stress yourself out on what is the most befitting punishment?"

Leaning back, he inquired, "And how would you meet out justice, my queen? If you have a better way, I am all ears."

There was a thread of sincere openness to his derisive invitation that Tanwen could detect. Perhaps, Guinevere did too, or else she was set on saying her piece, invitation or no. Either way, she jabbed her embroidering needle at him, as she dictated, "You are king. If you believe these nobles are not doing their job, take their land and titles or take their heads, and be done with it."

"Yes, I am king, but only because the nobles are willing to support me. If I start dispossessing or decapitating one of their own without sufficient evidence, it will be my head or your pretty one that we will have to worry about." Arthur flashed his wife a predatory grin, clearly enjoying making his wife uncomfortable with his ominous prediction.

Guinevere rubbed her neck nervously and then fiddled with her amber necklace, before snapping, "Well, we shall not have to be worrying about your handsome one, if you work yourself into an early grave or get killed in one of your foolish quests, now will we?"

Needless to say it went downhill from there.

~0~

Wonderland

Lancelot may have not been able to refute his lover's past Marie Antoinette tendencies, but he was still willing to be her champion. Defending her to the last, he finally suggested, "Perhaps, she has changed her philosophy with time and experience and distance from home."

"Mhmm…perhaps," was all she was willing to respond or commit to. To Tweedle, she asked, "What can you tell me of the Black Queen and her late husband?"

The manservant glanced back and forth between them, clearly suspicious of their relationship with the enemy of his mistress, but at Alice's soft, "Please, Tweedle," he calmed enough to fall into his role of gossipmonger.

"Well, I don't know much, but her people, the Black Clubs, have been singing her praises since their return to the Heartlands."

"Return?"

It was Will who explained, giving a quick synopsis, "Over a century ago, the Black Court and the White Court fought a war. The Whites won when the Reds chose to back them. The price for losing was the choice of death or banishment to the Fringes, where they would serve out the remainder of their days defending the Heartlands and Outlands from monster incursions. Most chose the latter."

Tweedle, looking not at all pleased by the interruption of historical trivia, waved his hand dismissively even as he added, "Yes, yes, with the caveat that the Courts of White and Red would send in replacements – excess sons of the noble houses and criminals and the like."

"Okay…I take it Arthur and Guinevere found their way to this lot…?" she asked hesitantly, trying to connect the dots.

Tweedle, full on scowling now, continued his narrative. "The Black Knight appeared with his golden lady in a boat on the shores of the Bitter Sea, injured to the point of death. They healed him – how is unknown as they all religiously keep silent on this detail – and give them shelter."

"Where upon he took up whatever was their cause instead of finding his way back to his people, who were being slaughtered by the hundreds by barbarians," interjected Lancelot scathingly.

Now there was a 'your guy is just as selfish as my girl' dig, if she ever heard one.

Tweedle shrugged, "I do not know of his motives. I do know that he quickly became much beloved by them, and that he was eventually selected to be an emissary on their behalf to the Heartland Courts, as none of them could return due to their oaths. He was to plea for more men, to remind them of their oaths, which they were neglecting. This was, of course, before my mistress became queen."

"Oh yeah, I remember hearing something about this in the Heart Court," declared Will thoughtfully, recalling aloud, "The Blacks were upset that they were not getting sufficient recruits, and that their ravens were being ignored by all the royals."

Cyrus added, "From what I remember, the Hearts had just seceded from the Red kingdom, and the Whites were gearing up for one or both to encroach on their territory, so none thought they had any man to spare."

"You knew about this?" Alice inquired, gazing at her fiancé in astonishment.

He shrugged, "I overheard a thing or two in the few taverns we stopped in when adventuring."

The two of them gazed at each other in sickening adoration as they both traipsed down memory lane, fondly recalling their past adventures. Good God, she hoped she and Killian weren't that nauseating.

Trying her best to ignore the pair, she asked, "You said 'was to plea'. Did he not?"

"No, he didn't, not to all the courts at least." Tweedle fixed her with a remorseful look as he stated, "The story goes that the Black Knight was returned to them. His head, and only his head, held in the bosom of his golden lady, who told the tale that the White King and Queen granted them audience and then chopped off his head and sent it back with her as their answer."

Tawny felt sucker punched. She couldn't breathe. Old wounds ruptured open. She had known that he had met his end, somewhere. She just…wasn't prepared for it. Not like that, anyways. It should have been on a battle field, not as the proverbial killed messenger…

"I take it, it was the 'un-reversible' kind of chopping?" she inquired as soon as she could draw breath.

"Yes," Tweedle replied. "When she recovered, the Widow then used his dishonorable death as a rallying cry to have the Blacks seek justice against their beloved Knight. They left the Fringes and invaded the White kingdom which was too focused on the Hearts and Reds to sufficiently defend themselves.

"The White King and Queen were executed for the crimes of oath-breaking and neglecting their duty to protect the people for the sake of retaining their own power, and the Widow was elected to become their Queen. In return she sent the defeated Whites and criminals back to the Fringes to protect the borders of the newly claimed Black queendom and pulled their protection from the Red and Heart borders, until they fulfilled their part of their oaths."

"Which is why the people blame Anastasia…" Alice mused aloud, before nervously glancing at Will.

"She'll have her beheaded too, won't she?" Will asked the room at large.

It was almost a rhetorical question. But, of course, the excitable manservant did not take it that way. Like a terrier, he yapped, "That's what I have been saying this whole time!"

Tawny, unable to bear the bickering or maintain her composure, hastily stood up and begged, "Excuse me," before dashing out of the house.

Once outside, she wrapped her arms around her middle as if she could hold herself together and tried to let the tears fall quietly. She mostly succeeded there, only making a few blubbering sniffs, as she gazed out into the darkening forest.

Killian, of course, followed her.

"Are you alright, lass?"

Although he was standing a few feet away, keeping a respectful distance, she felt as if he was right there, his low voice wrapping her in a cocoon of tender affection and concern. Rolling her eyes at her own sappy sentimentality, she sniffed and answered truthfully, "No, I'm not."

Turning to him, she stared into his beautiful blue eyes and said, "I always suspected that he was dead. The duty-bound royal arse wouldn't have abandoned his people otherwise. It's just…" she tightened her arms around herself. "It's different when you actually know, you know?"

"I know," he softly replied.

Taking a step towards him, she whispered pleadingly, "Hold me?"

His arms obligingly wrapped around her, and into her hair he whispered, "As you wish."

She took a deep breath and reveled in his warmth and in his comforting smell of leather, sea, and rum. Poor Lancelot. Unlike her, he did not have a partner to comfort him. Unlike her, the person he loves is a woman who chose to remain apart so that she could be queen, who chose power over love, again.

How the hell did she, Tawny, get so lucky as to have a man who chose love over all else in her life?

'You were set upon by three bear-trappers and he rescued you, and in return you volunteered to infiltrate the Evil Queen's domestic staff…'

At this thought, a plan began to form in her mind. She stayed in his embrace until it was more fleshed out, and he did not interrupt her with questions, just rubbed soothing circles up and down her back, even though he must have sensed the change in her mood.

Finally, she pushed herself away from him, just enough so she could lean up and give him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Better, love?"

"Much."

Before Killian could make a comment, suggestive or otherwise, they heard raised voices coming from the house. When they entered, it was to find Will and Tweedle still bickering. Over what, she did not take the time to find out. She simply intervened with a shouted, "Thank you, Tweedle."

That silenced them both. Will, to shoot her a dirty look, and the manservant, to look at her in bewilderment, so she elaborated, "For what you have told me has helped me to understand what we'll be walking into, when we try to rescue her."

"Oh? And how do you propose to do that?" he snidely challenged.

Un-phased by his rudeness, she smiled widely, "Do you have any friends in the service of the Black Court? One who might be willing to smuggle in an extra 'maid'?"