Author's Note: This chapter gave me a lot of trouble. Alice and I did not agree on how to handle her internal monologuing, or her reactions, or how to end this chapter. It was to the point where I had to walk away from this chapter and write the next one, just to clear my head so that I could try again. But now that it's been mercilessly written, rewritten, beta'd, edited, re-rewritten, re-beta'd, and re-edited, I'm much happier with it. Hope you enjoy!

Special Thanks: A million thanks to my amazing beta Ranguvar27 for beta'ing this chapter twice and giving me such helpful suggestions on how to improve it.

The winter sunlight could hardly be called warm, but at least it was determined today. It muscled its way through the thick cloud cover, bravely making its way through to illuminate the day.

Alice truly appreciated the sun's efforts. It had been a long, hard winter this year. Alice wasn't certain what had happened to make Winter so angry with Underland, but she had exacted her revenge with a vengeance. Blizzard upon ice storm upon bone-chilling cold upon breath-stealing wind; it seemed as though there hadn't been a day of peace. Alice was quite sure she hadn't seen Winter in a temper this bad since the year Regina was born.

Speaking of her daughter, Regina was home on one of her weekly visits. Regina didn't seem to be experiencing any undue effects of the cold today, and was currently outside with her father. Her Champion was out there somewhere too, but Alice kept her attention on her family. They were bundled in several layers of thick wool and warm furs; it was still bitterly cold, but they were taking advantage of the sunshine to get some fresh air. They had started out simply taking a walk, and somehow that had degenerated into a snowball war between Regina, Dafydd and the Fearail and Tarrant and Alice's personal guard, her Suits.

Normally, Alice would be right out there with them, yelling like a barbarian and throwing snowballs. However… She laid a hand on her stomach, closing her eyes and breathing slowly through the nausea. Blast the Flowers, in the Aboveground this likely only would have been a problem in the mornings, not at sporadic times during the day and night. In her current state she could barely walk, let alone sprint about. She didn't remember this being quite so difficult the last time around; had she been this sick with Regina?

When she and Tarrant were newly married, they had spent many a long hour spinning dreams about the family they meant to start. They had planned out grand adventures for their large brood; in those days they had longed for a dozen children, enough to fill the (soon to be rebuilt, hopefully) High House in Iplam.

But the months had passed, and Alice had failed to conceive— though not for lack of trying. At first, Tarrant had been jovial. We're still young, Raven, he'd croon, stroking her abdomen. We've plenty of Time. But as months turned into a year, then two, then three, it had become harder and harder to wait. For all of Alice's successes as a Queen, this triumph eluded her, and it was unendingly frustrating. Though Tarrant kept his spirits high, she knew how badly he wanted a child, and it killed Alice that she couldn't give him one.

In the fourth year of their barrenness, they had gone to Mirana for help. Perhaps there was something wrong with one of them, or maybe Abovegrounders and Underlandians couldn't cross-mate. Or, perhaps they were just in need of the White Queen's alchemy.

Mirana had combed through her massive library, consulted with Absolem and the Cheshire, tried tinctures and potions until she had exhausted the supplies in her kitchen. While she had found no significant biological differences between those Above and Below, neither could she find a reason why Alice and Tarrant hadn't conceived a child. And though she'd had high hopes for several of the potions she'd concocted, they had ultimately been fruitless. Over a year of Mirana's efforts and research, and still no baby.

It became a game between Alice and Tarrant to list reasons why they couldn't conceive; a bittersweet joke that made the disappointment easier to bear.

"Perhaps the Jabberwocky cursed its blood, to keep us from living on when it was killed," Tarrant mused.
"Maybe you Futterwackened too hard," Alice retorted.
"You think you're dreaming again, and you haven't dreamed the bairn in yet."
"The mercury affected more than your mind."
"She objects to your aversion of hats."
"He objects to that tea blend."

It was Tarrant who finally figured it out, after Alice sighed and said, Perhaps it simply isn't time. Time… Time… Of course! Of course it was Time! Tarrant couldn't have children, because Tarrant had no Time to give them. Time was frozen for him; he was trapped in tea-time, so he had no make-a-baby-time. He had spent a long and bitter night sitting awake and grieving that knowledge; never had he regretted his quarrel with Time more.

When Tarrant informed Alice of his shame the next morning, he had expected her to turn him out. If he couldn't even give her a child, what use was he as a King or as a husband?

Of course he should have figured that Alice would instead square her shoulders and clench her jaw, view this as a challenge to be conquered by the Champion.

Alice had never considered what she'd done to be a sacrifice. What was her Time worth, if it could be put to better purpose— given to their child? Alice would happily sacrifice as much Time as was needed, if that Time could be better used by her baby. Tarrant would do no less, were their situation reversed. So Alice had given her Time, and in exchange, during the seventh year of their marriage, she and Tarrant had been given Regina.

Regina would always be the accomplishment of which Alice was most proud. Now, more than ever, Alice thanked Underland every day for the miracle that was her daughter's life.

The thought that another little miracle was soon to enter her life was nearly overwhelming. She hadn't exactly meant to… alright, that was a complete lie. She had meant to. The thought had been at the forefront of her mind for months now; ever since Mirana had triumphantly announced that Crims had accepted Regina and that her daughter would someday be crowned Queen of Hearts. After all that lost time, the knowledge that Alice was going to lose her daughter again had been a bitter blow, and from that moment on, Alice had begun thinking… Well. Wishing, really. Perhaps she should have been more careful about this particular wish… at least until she and Tarrant had actually talked about the possibility of maybe, possibly…

Ah well, Alice shrugged to herself. It was too late to worry about it now. Zhithene had prophesized it, and it had come to pass. Her Time was already gone, already given. Alice might not be showing yet, but she knew the Truth.

She wondered what he or she would be like. Regina was so very much like her father; would this child be more like her? Or would he or she take after Alice's father, or perhaps a member of Tarrant's family…?

Stroking her still-flat-for-now stomach gently, Alice looked back out the window, her eyes seeking out her daughter and her husband. She'd have to tell them, she knew; it wasn't fair to keep this joy to herself. Truth be told, she wasn't sure why she hadn't told them the moment she suspected she might be with child. And she was going to tell them, she was. Just… She needed to conquer her own fears, first.

Not that she was afraid of telling! No, she knew Tarrant would be over the moon about having another child, the fact that Alice had sacrificed more Time notwithstanding. It was just… For all her success as Champion and Queen, Alice had done a rather terrible job of being a Mother. Regina had suffered enough because of Alice's choices; what if she did just as horrible a job with this baby? What if she irrevocably screwed up another child? Maybe she just wasn't meant to be a mother…

But it was a bit too late for that, she reflected ruefully. Soon, she would be bringing another child into the world. This time, she intended to keep it; she wouldn't allow another babe to be stolen from her arms. They'd been given a second chance, after that horrendous misadventure in the Outlands. Alice and Regina reconciled… Alice and Tarrant finally reunited… The queendom secure… And now they were to be blessed with an expanding family. It was a miracle, wasn't it? Something to rejoice in, to celebrate, to be so incredibly grateful for?

Yes, there was no question that she would tell her family their happy news. The only question was how to do it.

As soon as Alice thought that question to herself, she slapped herself for her foolishness. They were Hightopps; there was only one proper way to make this announcement.

When a snow-soaked, chilled to the bone Tarrant, Regina and Dafydd came back inside, they were greeted by Helbit, one of the Fish Pages.

"Her Majesty has ordered a tea spread for you," he announced. "If you'd like to change into dry clothes, it should be ready for you upon your return."

Half an hour later found the royal family seated around a tea table in their family parlor. Alice had insisted that Regina take the place closest to the fire, in an effort to ward off the cold that seemed to overtake her at unpredictable times. If her daughter wasn't as animated as she had been outside, Alice told herself that it was because she was tired from her exertions and not because Dafydd had left the room.

"Come sit down, you two, the tea's just finished steeping," Alice smiled.

Tarrant and Regina exchanged glances before turning similar skeptical, teasing looks on Alice.

"Teacup, did you mix this blend yourself?" Tarrant asked doubtfully, his eyes sparkling.
"I am not that bad," Alice defended herself, smiling.
"I don't know, Mama, you did manage to confuse tuckleberries with squidinash root," Regina chimed in.
"They look practically identical when they're ground!" Alice protested.
"But they smell nowhere near alike!" Regina retorted.
"That was ages ago," Alice said dismissively. "And anyways, the bottles weren't labeled."
"My mistake," Tarrant said, grinning.
"Hmph," Alice sniffed. "And in any case, no I did not blend this. I used one of Tarrant's pre-mixed batches. Not even I can mess up preparing a teapot."

Regina giggled, accepting her cup from Alice as Tarrant passed around the basket of scones.

"I have something to tell you," Alice said once they were all situated.
"Oh? What's that, Teacup?" Tarrant asked, taking her hand and fingering the pincushion ring he'd placed there so many years ago.
Alice cleared her throat, smiling nervously. "You have a teacup to hold your brew and a sugar cube to sweeten it… wouldn't you like a scone to enjoy along with it?"

Tarrant froze, staring at Alice for a long moment. Regina glanced between her parents; she may be half-Wonderlandian, but this conversation made no sense to her.

"I…" Tarrant drew a deep breath, and Alice's heart twisted to see the mingled joy and sadness in his eyes. "Alice, ye shooldnae hae-"
"Of course I should have," she cut him off, silencing him with a finger to his lips. "We've always wanted another."
"Och aye, but…" Tarrant shook his head and slid off the chair to his knees before her, his eyes swirling with emotions as he struggled to maintain control. "Alice, Ah cannae raise a bairn aloyn."
"Oh tush," she tsked. "You won't be alone, Tarrant. I've not given so much Time as all that."
Tarrant smiled then, though the sadness was still lurking in the corners of his mouth. "Ah wish Ah hud Time tae gie thes wee one," he murmured, stroking her stomach.
Regina's eyes widened as she stared at her parents. "You're expecting?"
Alice nodded, her smile blossoming. "Yes."

Regina leaned back in her chair, clearly stunned. Alice bit her lip, watching her daughter adjust to the news, but her attention was distracted by Tarrant leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her still-flat abdomen. She smiled as Tarrant wrapped his arms around her waist, laying his cheek against her stomach and whispering to their growing child. Oh, she had missed this. Her pregnancy with Regina hadn't been an easy one; the wee thing had never once ceased moving, and it had made Alice so nauseous. But Tarrant had always been so wonderful and supportive; searching the library for recipes she could stomach, rubbing soothing salves into her aching back and ribs. He was such a wonderful provider; she was so happy they got to do this again.

She glanced over at Regina, and was dismayed to see her daughter staring into her tea, her eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions.

"Tarrant, we need to celebrate," she said. "Could you please pull out that champagne we saved-?"
"From Regina!" he exclaimed. "Of course! Back in a tick!"

Alice smiled after her wonderfully daft husband as he Futterwackened his way down the hall. Maybe she wasn't the most accomplished mother, but this child had Tarrant for a father, and surely that balanced it out.

When he was safely out of earshot, Alice turned to the daughter she had so severely wronged and disappointed.

"Regina?" she tried.
"I'm so happy for you, Mama," Regina quickly said, leaping up to hug her.

Alice hated watching Regina lie, seeing her lock away her feelings and try to put on a brave face. Not for the first time, Alice thanked her lucky stars for the Hightopp eyes; it was impossible for a Hightopp to lie when their eyes always told the truth of their hearts.

"Regina," she repeated softly, in admonishment and encouragement.

For a moment, Alice wondered if Regina would give in and tell her the truth. They may have repaired their damaged relationship, but apart from that one confession about Dafydd that Alice wasn't even certain Regina remembered making, they weren't much for heartfelt discussions. That fell under Tarrant's purview, or— Alice gritted her teeth— Dafydd's. Should she perhaps call for the hulking Outlander? If anyone could wrangle a confession from Regina, it would be him. Even if Dafydd wasn't Alice's favorite person in the world, wasn't Regina's peace of mind more important?

"It's stupid," Regina said softly. "I don't want to spoil your happiness."
"I would never think anything you felt was stupid," Alice said, seizing her chance.
Regina sighed, leaning back in her seat. "I am happy for you," she began. "I know how much Da wanted another child. And having a little brother or sister… I think that would be wonderful. I always wanted siblings to play with."
"But?" Alice pressed gently.
"I can't help but feel I'm being replaced," she said quickly, with the air of someone who had to let it out before she convinced herself to keep quiet. "I mean… because you've had so little of me… You didn't get to be a mam, but now there's a baby and you can be… You can make up for what you lost, but I can't, and… I hate myself for thinking this, but I don't want you starting a new family just because you lost the first one."
"Oh, sweetheart," Alice sighed.

Alice wasn't a particularly physically affectionate person; that was the British in her. Stiff upper lip, and all that. But she didn't hesitate at all to pull her child into her arms, to press her as close to her heart as she physically could and try to get her even closer.

"It's not true," she said. "Yes, I regret that I didn't get to watch you grow up. I will always regret that, and nothing will ever replace what I lost. Another baby won't make up for the fact that I missed your childhood. Nothing and no one can ever replace what you mean to me, Regina. I have no interest in starting a new family. This baby is just an addition to what we've built, that's all."

At the sight of Regina's tears, Alice pulled her closer, resting her head on her daughter's and whispering comforting words.

"We'll protect this one, won't we?" Regina sniffed, hesitantly touching Alice's stomach. "We won't be broken apart again?"
"Never again," Alice vowed. "We won't lose each other, I promise."

Alice's confidence that everything would be alright lasted her through the rest of the evening, until she was sitting up in bed, resting a book on Tarrant's shoulder while he lay in her lap with his head on her stomach, whispering to the baby. She stared blankly at the words on the page, hardly blinking as her mind raced.

Now that her pregnancy had been spoken of, it felt more real, somehow. And if this was really happening to her, then there were things to plan for, to wish for, to fear.

What if she was too old to safely deliver the baby? Granted, she wasn't Aged any longer, but… If she were in the Above, she would be something like fifty-two now. Well past the age of safe childbearing; Fates, she could have been a grandmother at that age! What if, despite her frozen Aging, it was still unsafe for her to attempt to give birth? What if something happened to the baby?

What if the poor bairn was born Mad?

What standing would the child have in Witzend— would it be the new Crown Prince or Princess, or would he or she become Tarrant's heir in Tearmunn? Would their clan even accept the new baby as a legitimate heir, or would they push for Dafydd to remain Tarrant's heir (was Dafydd even still the tanaiste, or had that reverted to Regina again?)?

What would they do if Underland did indeed try to take another child from them?

What if Alice failed as a mother? What if her child ended up hating her for some mistake or misstep, as Regina had for so long?

There was a dull buzzing in her ears, which didn't register until the book was gently forced from her tight grip. She gasped, looking up to find Tarrant watching her, eyes dark with concern.

"Alice?"
"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, pressing her fingers to her temples. "What did you say?"
"Alice, what's wrong?" Tarrant asked, sitting cobbler-style opposite her and taking her hands in his.
Alice sighed, biting her lip as she looked down at their interlaced fingers. "Just… thinking. My thoughts took me on a merry chase."
"About the baby?" Tarrant prompted.
She nodded slowly. "I'm worried," she admitted. "I've never… I missed so much, with Regina," she said, her confession pouring from her lips. "I'm so afraid I don't know how to be a mother, not really. We only had Regina for a few months, and when she came home she was already grown. I don't think I know how to really be a mother."
Tarrant pressed a kiss to her hand. "I don't either, my Alice," he said softly. "I expect we'll have a lot to learn together."

She looked up at him, contemplating what he'd said. He was right, of course. If Alice had only had a few months to be a mother, Tarrant had only had the same amount of experience in being a father. It was comforting, to be reminded that she wasn't doing this alone.

"Together," she repeated softly. "You promise?"
"I swear it, Teacup," Tarrant nodded. "We'll get along just fine, you and I. Like we always have."
"Like we always will," she said, smiling faintly as they pressed their foreheads together.