As they walked, hand-in-hand once more, Alice felt the chill in her bones replaced with warmth. Her fingers flexed and curled around Tarrant's rough hands as she let out a light sigh of contentment. Away from the Terribly Sad Place of her friend's past, she felt suddenly lighter, happier.
So what if she couldn't recall this wondrous place right away? She had time yet to remember, time yet to explore and experience. She had a kind, funny, interesting gentleman as her escort and apparently many fine friends in the castle. The skies were warm and blue, the birds were singing, and the air was thick with the heavenly scent of... Cinnamon and roses. How delightfully curious!
The Hatter turned his head to smile bemusedly down at her as the blonde chuckled, then giggled, then gave a full-out laugh. "Have you just remembered a funny joke?"
Alice laughed. "No. I feel... giddy, suddenly. Happier. And more confident than ever that I shall regain my memories. How very strange."
Tarrant's smile was thin-lipped. "Not so strange. I used to feel that way too, after leaving that place."
Alice faltered, and the sunshine that seemed to have bubbled in her dampened. "No more?"
Tarrant's smile brightened just a shade, and had her own flooding back. "Oh, yes. I'm just used to it. You wouldn't remember the feeling."
"Why not?"
Tarrant began to swing their clasped hands gently between them. "The first time, because we were running for our lives with Stayne and his cronies on our heels. The second, well... I assume you wouldn't have felt it." His smile faded away into a thoughtful expression, a lift of the eyebrows. "You disappeared, gone away, Above, where I couldn't follow, to do your Alice things. You didn't leave the clearing, exactly. I don't think. Hmm." His grin was back, wild now, as he turned towards her to tap her nose with a thimbled finger. "A riddle to be answered with the return of your memories, so be quick about it. I do so love the answers to riddles."
Alice couldn't help the bubbly laughter that escaped her as they found their way onto the white cobbles of the road. "Just the answers, then? Not the riddles themselves?"
"Oh," He exclaimed. "The riddles themselves, of course. Nothing is so good for distracting or amusing oneself as a good, hard riddle. I can thsolve mosth any riddle," He lisped proudly, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin importantly. "I am, after all, a madman. And madmen are alwaysth masthersth of thsolving riddlesth."
Delighted, Alice squeezed his hand as it swung between them and giggled again. "Isn't there any riddle you can't solve?"
Tarrant grinned impishly. "Well... a few, aye. For instance: Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?"
It hit her, quite suddenly, quite alarmingly. It was quick, brutal as Hamish's hand across her face had been. Air whooshed into her lungs with one sharp gasp as her body tensed and froze, hand clamping around Tarrant's.
She was vaguely aware of the man touching her shoulder, her cheek, her arm, her other cheek. She could hear his voice, see his green eyes flecked with yellow as images flashed through her mind in blurs of color, noise, and emotion.
On the last one, she gasped again and reeled back from the painted man as tears welled in her eyes. "Oh Hatter..."
He stilled, quieted, and slowly drew his hand back, away from her. "Alice?" Her sudden change alarmed him, scared him. One moment, they'd been talking about riddles, the next she'd been staring blindly up at him while something akin to Horror flashed across her face. The milliner wanted to hold her, he realized. To hold her and soothe her. He didn't dare, though, and settled for squeezing her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of her wrist. "Alice? What's wrang? Ur ye alrecht? Teel me, please."
Alice blinked back the tears. "You were... I hurt you. I'm so sorry."
The terrible guilt he could see in her beautiful, expressive eyes made his heart ache. "Whit ur ye talkin' abit? Whit did ye rememb'r?"
She lifted her free hand, dug the heel in under her eyes. "Just... images. Just flashes, of you asking me that. And the last one, I asked you, and you said you hadn't a clue to the answer. But there was one, at night." She sniffled so miserably that Tarrant felt fresh hurt well inside him. "On a balcony, I think. And I think I hurt you terribly. Did I? I'm sorry."
The Hatter let out a single, weak, breathy laugh. "Alice..." He was suddenly pulling her closer, smiling down at the shock that colored her expression when he tugged her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as he'd dreamed of doing. She was stiff in his arms, against his chest, only at first. When her arms came tentatively up around his waist, he sighed and grinned. "You don't even know if you hurt me, and you're so sorry you're in tears?"
Alice pursed her lips, her face heating. "It's not... don't... take it so... like a joke."
Tarrant smiled as he held her back, held her at arm's length. "I'm not, I assure you Cricket. But it warms me more than you can imagine to know that some part of you would feel so sad over my own unfortunate feelings." She started to protest but was silenced by a finger against her pouting lips. "I did hurt," He continued, smiling gently down at her. "I did hurt, but... you did not hurt me. Not directly."
Alice frowned, and pulled her head back, away from his hand. "What do you mean?"
Tarrant shrugged, and released her arms. "You were hurting, and you were so sure it was all a dream." He smiled cheekily at her, and drew a guilty smirk from the girl. "You were so eager to be away, free of it all, back in your own world." That wasn't all. Not nearly all. But it was the simplest way, he reasoned. "I didn't want you to go. I... enjoy you."
Alice laughed, finally, her tears dried. "I enjoy you as well, Hatter." She released him and stepped away, arms outstretched as she turned a few times across the stony road. "I enjoy all of this. All of Underland, or Wonderland, or what have you. The colors, the creatures, the music." She stopped and sighed, frustration etched on her face. "I wish I remembered. I wish I could wake up from this dream, or be sure it was all real. One one hand I feel as though I'm drifting, floating down a river on a raft, half-drunk and delirious. On the other..." She tilted her head back, her frown aimed towards the sky as two of the strange, curious-looking fauna of the strange, curious world darted through the vibrant cobalt sky overhead. "On the other, I feel right. Secure. I feel as though this is right-" She lifted her arms again, palms-up in an encompassing gesture. "Being here, with you, with the others. I feel as though this is where I'm meant to be, even though something tugs at the same hand, holding me to the other half of my life." She brought her arms together, still palms-up, and bumped her wrists against one another. "Or perhaps the right feeling is that the two hands are pulling at one another." On a frustrated huff, she whirled away from him and glared at a tree. "I don't know. I feel that... though the ground I stand upon is shaky, dangerous, uncertain, I am safe. It's all very..."
"Aggravating?" Tarrant supplied quietly. "Annoying? Alarming? Angering? Aggrieving? Those are A words." His voice warmed, quickened, and his emerald eyes sparkled as he fell into the groove. "Or perhaps it's Disgusting, Distressing, Distasteful, Disconcerting, Discombobulating, Displeasi-"
"Hatter!" Her warning and concern were accompanied by a hand on his arm.
"Bothersome, vexing-" Tarrant shook his head and smiled. "I'm fine. Is it one of those?"
Alice smiled resignedly up at him. Such a strange, strange man. These odd little bouts were taxing and fascinating all at the same time. "Maybe, Hatter. Quite possibly, very probably." She squinted up at the sun, then turned to smile at Tarrant. "Isn't there a Tea Party we're supposed to attend?"
Tarrant slapped the heel of his palm against his forehead, the distress evident on his face as he grabbed Alice's hand and urged her into a quick jog. "Gracious me, I'd forgotten, what with all this emotional chit and chat. Hurry hurry hurry Alice! We mustn't be late to Tea!"
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It was a tea unlike any Alice had ever attended... as far as she knew. There had been a tea time in the Ascot household, certainly, but it had been sedate, silent, with the beastly Lady Ascot sniffing and glaring and the devilish Hamish unabashedly staring at her. The tea had been bitter, the cakes flaky and tasteless.
Underland's idea of a tea party was to invite over a hundred people from Snud to Quest and clear up to Witzend, and decorate the largest garden on the grounds with nearly as many mis-matched tables, which curved and looped and split and rejoined again to create a chaotic sort of order. Hardly any of the flatware or crockery matched, but it was all shined to gleaming. The linens were an explosion of clashing colors, but they were all freshly laundered. Dainty tea cups numbered in the hundreds and were stacked in precarious little towers that swayed and wobbled whenever someone bumped the tables. There were platters of yummy, moist cakes and cookies, bowls of succulent fruit that burst oh so pleasantly in the mouth. And there were streamers and balloons that drifted over head by magic, hung in trees or were draped over chairs and tables, and sometimes tangled in the extravagant do's of the party guests. The people themselves were the most colorful and interesting things to watch, though, Alice thought. There were two funny twin boys who called themselves the Tweedles and took her missing memory as some sort of wildly funny game. There was a talking bloodhound and his family. Bayard and Bielle were their names, and each had possession of a comfortable ottoman to sit on, with delicate porcelain bowls for their tea. There was the dodo in the waistcoat, who liked to wave his cane about and huff importantly. There was a giant who stood over thirty feet tall and sipped from a china cup that reminded Alice of a large bucket. All through the colorful, loud, cheery crowd were the pale, dark-eyed faces of the lords and ladies of The White Court. They were reserved and polite and smiled indulgently at the antics of their queen and her guests.
And such antics! Food was tossed as casually and frequently as though it were quite normal and acceptable, which Alice realized with a baffled little smile that it probably was. Mally and Thackery and the Tweedles and Bayard's pups were the worst of it, cackling madly each time a bit of scone or jam went sailing through the air and met its mark. And every few minutes, either by the handful or by the whole, the guests would stand and shout and scramble around to different seats with much nudging and shoving and great shrieks of laughter. Alice would feel her hand suddenly taken by the Hatter, and he, laughing wildly, eyes shining a brilliant emerald, would yank her to her feet and drag her up, down, and around the tables. Now matter how many times they changed seats, he would always pull her along and be sure she found a seat on his right-hand side.
"What fun this is!" She told him, eyes glittering with delight as she nibbled a tea cake filled with the most delicious berries.
Even Tarrant's outfit seemed to flush with joyful color at her words as he lifted one of the smaller plates and offered her another of the scones. "Fun? 'Tis naught but Tea Time laddie. You have tea in London."
Alice, still wearing her bemused smile, gestured around them. "Not a one like this." She mused. "I much prefer this to the stuffy, sophisticated teas I've had to suffer through up there. Can't remember any teas before those," She shrugged. "But I can't see how they could measure up to something like this. Are your tea parties always so..." She nibbled thoughtfully on the scone she had accepted from him. "Energetic?"
Tarrant nodded as he refreshed their tea, glancing up briefly at the sudden commotion he could hear in the distance. That great bloody beast, most likely, He thought with a dark flare of resentment. Terrorizing the Peonies. "If you'll believe it, this is one of the more mundane Teas I've hosted in some time." He made a tutting sound and shifted in his seat, laying one rough hand across his chest as he leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially in her ear. "Now, if you asthk me," He lisped to her. "It'sth becausthe of the Lordsth and Ladiesth of The White. Terribly dreary thosthe onesth are."
As Alice laughed in response and playfully batted at his arm, a Knight Piece strode into the midst of the party, and came to a halt behind Mirana's chair. Beside him, so short only those that were very tall and were looking, and those that were closest to the White Queen saw, trotted an aged badger in wire-rimmed glasses and a tweed jacket. The White Queen, chortling at a joke she'd just heard, leaned down with a smile to hear what the badger had to say.
Tarrant felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and straightened out of the giggles he'd been sharing with his Alice (For she was his, by the White. And no pompous little, woman-battering fool or a lack of memory would change that.) to look across the garden. He let his eyes land on Mirana's table, and then Mirana herself as the queen stood, hands gripping the edge of the table. She spoke tersely to the Knight Piece, then murmured what looked like apologies to her table mates.
And when she picked up her skirts to stride away from the table, her dark, worried gaze met his.
Alice frowned after the queen, her curiosity piqued as not one, but four other Chess Pieces gathered around Mirana, who glided across the garden and up the steps into the castle with her usual, ethereal grace.
The young woman turned to Tarrant, confusion in her eyes. "Whatever do you suppose happened, Hatter?"
The milliner puffed out his bottom lip and shrugged, shaking his head once to translate his own bafflement. "I've no idea. She looked worried though... I haven't seen her agitated like that since..." His lips pursed.
"Since what?" Alice prompted.
Tarrant shifted, coughed. "Ah..." She must remember on her own, that's what the Queen said. "N-...Nothing." He half-stood from his chair and looked around at his guests, battling with curiosity and the knowledge that it was indeed Tea Time, and one did not simply leave Tea Time. Reaching a decision, he pushed his chair back and held out a hand to Alice. "Shall we go see what has Her Majesty's feathers in a twist?"
Alice giggled and accepted the hand. "I do believe you've butchered two phrases with one blade."
He blinked as they edged away from the party. "Have I now?"
Alice's light giggle sounded again. "Yes. Perhaps you meant '-feathers ruffled' or '-in a bunch'. The other would be '-has her knickers in a twist.'" She quickened her pace to match that of the one set by his longer legs. "I believe it would be more of the first than the second or third. I do hope nothing too bad has happened." Worry colored her tone now.
Tarrant nodded, all grim seriousness as well. "Well... we shall see."
They jogged up the steps and saw Mirana the moment they entered the hall. Two more knights were supporting a wounded and ill-looking man as Mirana touched long, pale fingers to his pulse and tried to calm him.
As they approached the group, questions practically quivering on Tarrant's lips, the man caught sight of him and let out a terrible howl of fear.
He lifted a skeletal finger and jabbed it in the Hatter's direction, shrieking at the top of his lungs. "Him! Him! Murderer! MURDERER!" The man's eyes rolled up into his skull as he collapsed in a dead faint to the floor.
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What? WHAT? Hatter? Accused of murder? Insanity!
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