A/N. I have no control over this fic anymore, so I'm going to go and hide under the pile of fabric and pins that's currently eating myself and j_merc alive.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.
Fashion Sense And Hiding Places
The untimely arrival of the Labyrinth's Champion in the flowerbeds of Marmoreal did not surprise the queen as much as it had poor, dear McTwisp, though she did wince slightly at the discontent murmurs about broken stems and battered petals.
This champion, the queen was quick to decide, was so very different from her own in just about every way, from her looks right down to the way she spoke, muttering to herself about washing machines and manhole covers. Mirana was not sure she wished to know what the Labyrinth's Champion was talking about as she took a moment to study the young woman's attire. She wore trousers. Such a thing was unheard of in Marmoreal or even in Crims, and made from a fabric the queen was unfamiliar with, yet she put the peculiarity to one side and smiled widely, interrupting Sarah's complaint filled monologue, "Greeting from Marmoreal, Champion of the Labyrinth."
Sarah raised a quizzical eyebrow as she averted her eyes from her dirty, grass stained clothing to the White Queen, thinking of the White Rabbit with the pocket watch, "Marmoreal? Don't remember that one in Carroll's books."
Mirana shook her head in confusion; it seemed all champions were at least a little peculiar and hazy when it came to the geography of the world, "Yes, this is Marmoreal and I am the queen here, Mirana, the poor white rabbit you startled was McTwisp and I do believe that this is yours." The Queen held out her hand, Sarah's ring sitting innocently in her palm. "I have been expecting you."
Staring at the old piece of costume jewellery it took Sarah a moment to recognise it as the one her mother had given her and she had consequently used to pay The Wiseman for his advice, no matter how kooky that advice had been and Sarah hesitated. She didn't know who this queen was and she was far more wary of gifts since running the Labyrinth and more so of them and the tricks of the Fae since she started her systematic decimation of the library.
"It is quite safe, only The Wiseman and I have had it; Jareth has not touched it, does not even know where it rests."
That caught Sarah's full and undivided attention, "You know the Goblin King?"
Mirana nodded and smiled a somewhat secret filled smile, "For many, many years. He is a good friend of a member of my court, a Hatter by the name of Tarrant Hightopp."
The look that crossed Sarah's face was one of disbelief and wonder. Somehow she had never thought of the king as having a friend, let alone one who was not at least a lord or lady.
Mirana laughed, a high, light sound, "Come now, you and I have much to speak of, do you like tea?"
"Actually I prefer coffee, thanks," Sarah replied instinctively. Then she saw the queen's spotless white dress and looked back down at her rather worse for wear jeans and t-shirt combination, remembering her earlier desire to get the dratted things clean before starting her research. "And a washing machine wouldn't go amiss either."
"…Washing machine?"
It was Sarah's turn to laugh, realising what a long shot it had been that a mystical land such as this would have such a common, modern day appliance, "Never mind, I've looked worse."
Alice had been asked by the little fox with the eye patch to remain where she was in the spacious guest room he had escorted her too. He had been awfully polite and this had not struck her as strange, calling her 'my lady', he reminded her of a rabbit she had once met, one with a waistcoat and pocket watch.
She thought about that image of a rabbit as she sat beside the large window. The window held no glass; it was just an open stone archway set into the wall, but the view was fantastically endless, full of tall hedges and walls, and the gentle breeze was refreshing. This was certainly a castle, but she did not think somehow that the fox was king.
"A castle should have a queen," she murmured to herself. "One all dressed in white with a brilliant smile and peculiar taste culinary ingredients."
It sounded very familiar and Alice frowned at the view from her window-ledge perch. She could not see what lay beyond the rolling hills that disappeared into the sun, either due east or west, but she wanted to know, somehow it seemed important.
She could hear voices drifting up from the floor below but could not make out the words. One voice she recognised as the fox, but the other sounded much more like a child who had not been allowed second helpings of desert.
Alice glanced at the open door and the hallway beyond it which could lead her to the source of these voices, "Surely it would not hurt to take a peek…"
She remembered being told once that curiosity killed the cat, but she was not a cat and she was also most certain that if said cat had evaporating skills then it could easily avoid such an untimely fate.
By the time she had thought the statement through, however, she had reached the door.
There was no one in the hallway, no guards or maids or anything, and she had made it this far already so it only stood to reason that she should complete her quest to find out what was going on, creeping on silent feet down the corridor towards the stairs and the muffled voices below.
The childlike one was making demands while the fox repeatedly apologised. The king was currently unable to meet her in person so would she be so kind as to wait, take a rest after her long journey in one of the guest rooms, perhaps?
"No," the 'she' snapped back. "I want to see the king now!"
Some part of Alice's mind filled the brief silence that followed before the fox's next apology with a shrill shriek of 'off with their heads!'
"Too late," Alice replied, "already lost them."
The feeling of a memory of the dream she could never quite remember was growing stronger as curiosity won out and she placed her hands on the stones wall, peering round the corner into the throne room.
The sight of a woman in what must have once been a fine red dress but now was tattered and dirty with an unusually large head in proportion to her body made Alice's eyes widen.
But, how could this be? Why was the Red Queen here? Alice glanced back at the stone wall beneath her palms, so very unfamiliar. For that matter, where was here?
Her eyes snapping back to the fox and the queen, she knew, somehow, that something was missing, something important. Her mind, however, refused to tell her what as the line between dreams and memories blurred. Either way she knew this scene before her spelt only one thing: trouble.
An almighty crash of thunder interrupted her thoughts as another figure appeared in the room.
The fox was evidently relieved, "Your Majesty!"
The King had arrived and even to Alice's eyes he looked strange with his dark clothing and wild hair. She could tell this man was dangerous as he smiled at his guest, ignoring the little fox completely. It was not a kind smile. "Ah, dear Iracebeth, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Jareth, that beastly sister of mine has stolen my crown and I want it back!"
"Oh? And what have such petty sibling squabbles have to do with myself?"
Iracebeth was growing angry and Alice knew she should leave but she remained, watching the scene unfold as the king crossed the room to his throne, throwing himself down on it and waiting with perfect disinterest for an answer.
"You will help me get it back!"
Jareth's smile never faltered, "And if I choose not to? I do have a kingdom to run, children to steal and goblins to kick, what time do I have for you?"
The fox was growing anxious, his good eye fixed worriedly on Alice's hiding place, but Alice shook her head: she would not run away, such an action would not be very muchly of her. Though she would admit she would prefer a safer hiding place, or perhaps a drink that would make her shrink. At that she did laugh, though not aloud, for it really was a rhyme.
"Else," Iracebeth's voice dropped to an almost icy temperature and Alice's laughter stopped dead. She had never heard that tone of voice before. "You shall meet the same fate as the last man to defy me."
It was then that Alice realised what was so wrong with the picture before her, what, or more who, it was that was missing: Ilosovic Stayne, the Knave that had been banished along with the Red Queen. The implications of Iracebeth's words were not something Alice wished to dwell on.
The King sighed and shook his head, muttering something about Outlands, water and insanity, and then something else about nails and coffins, before raising his head and voice again, "No, Iracebeth, I do not have time for your games; go home and play with your toys."
The Red Queen shrieked, the King closed his eyes and the fox drew a sword that was too small to harm anyone, let alone defend his tired monarch against the crazy woman.
Alice could see that and had made her move before thinking at all, her head filled with familiar words she did not know the meaning to, all bar the few she spoke with conviction and ease: "Downal with Bluddy Behg Hid!"
The Red Queen's attention was diverted, "You!"
Sir Didymus buried his sword in the Iracebeth's leg.
The Red Queen stopped for a moment and swayed on the spot before collapsing to the ground.
The old fox gave Alice a grin and told her in an overdramatic stage whisper: "Peaches, my lady, they make for a fine sleeping drought."
Jareth groaned, buried his face in his hands and wished he had never got up in the first place.
