Author's Note: Oh my good god. I literally added twenty pages of text to this chapter in the course of editing it. Twenty. The only scene that I didn't change was the last one. Everything else was either heavily edited or flat-out added months [no, seriously, months] after the original draft of this chapter was finished.
In many ways, I feel like I could have ended Book Two with this chapter; it ties up a lot of the story threads and sets things up really nicely for Book Three. However, there are two more chapters after this one, both somewhat epilogue-ish in tone, but still important.
Images: Remove all spaces.
Lily's gown [but obviously a little less color]: http:/ 26. media. tumblr. com/ tumblr_ lyy 9 gukErz 1 qatfdco 1_ 500. jpg
Regina's lounging dress [yes, it is stolen from one of Eowyn's gowns]: http:/ www. twinrosesdesigns. com/ eowyn_ inspired_ dream_ coat_ and_ gown. jpg
Regina's nightgown: http:/ mysterycreature. files. wordpress. com/ 2010/ 02/ nightgown. jpg? w= 460
Original Character Face Claim: The Doctor is portrayed by David Tennant. Noble is portrayed by Catherine Tate.
Disclaimer: Please see the end of this chapter for my disclaimers.
Special Thanks: A very special thank-you to Drachegirl14 for perfectly articulating the sentiment I've been trying to get across regarding Alice [but really, it's also very much an overarching theme of the entire series]: "It takes a breaking of the heart to repair a frozen-through one." That's exactly what I've been trying to convey through this entire book- sometimes, in order to fix something [or someone], you have to completely break it apart first. A million thanks for finding the perfect way to phrase that!
A million thanks to my brother Rob for helping me with Kalen and Lily's scene. He keeps protesting that he's not a writer, but he wrote Kalen's dialogue word for word. And I think it's beautiful.
Finally, many thanks to my wonderful beta Ranguvar27!
It wasn't the homecoming Regina had been expecting.
She had imagined a triumphant parade through the gates of the Cerulean Castle, smiling and waving to the members of the cheering Blue Court. She would have been relieved to be home, laughing and carefree upon her return. She had thought she'd be relieved to be rid of the Outlands, had imagined that her misadventure with the Nazari would be laughed away and quickly forgotten. Or, if not laughed away, at least it wouldn't have left much of an impression on her; just a small interruption in her week, more an inconvenience and an irritation than anything.
She hadn't thought it would be like this. She wasn't even returning to Berserka; she, her parents and Lily were riding to Marmoreal with all due haste while the new Hightopps set up a temporary camp around the Brae. The Blue Royals would be returning Lily to her mother, and Alice was hoping to procure some healing ointments for Regina's injured side. Regina hadn't imagined her homecoming like this; forcing herself to remain upright on Sora, knuckles white with pain as she grasped the reins, fighting nausea every moment. She hadn't counted on feeling like she was being crushed beneath the weight of her guilt, her grief, her disgust at everything that had happened and everything she had done.
She should be counting her blessings, focusing on the positives. There were certainly a lot of them. She was alive, when she had been sure she would die. Her family was safe. She and Alice- her mother- had reached a silent understanding, and might even be on the way to forging a true relationship. The Nazari had come under Tarrant's protection; the Hightopp clan had been resurrected. It was the happy ending Regina had been waiting for ever since she'd first landed in Underland.
And yet, Regina was horribly sad. She might even call the feelings in her heart betrayal. Where was Wonderland now, she wondered dully. Where was the fairy tale kingdom she had dreamt of her entire life, the perfect dream of charming madness with its whimsy and fancies? Where had it disappeared, and why had she been so rudely awakened from that dream to find herself in this stark, unforgiving, insane place? This was no wonderland. This was a nightmare.
She didn't even have the option of leaving. However tempting it might be to dream of leaving Underland, of choosing to return to dull, grey London with its logic and its rules, Regina knew she couldn't actually leave Underland. This place was half of her birthright, but more importantly, this was the heritage she had chosen. She had chosen to belong to Underland; she couldn't leave now, simply because her blinders had been ripped off and she had finally come face to face with the reality behind the naïve dream.
Sighing, Regina glanced around. Her parents rode ahead, and while she couldn't hear if they were speaking to each other, they seemed to be at peace. Lily was riding to her left. She didn't look much better than Regina felt, honestly. They hadn't talked yet, had yet to exchange any stories of their experiences in the Outlands. What toll had this misadventure taken on Lily? What had happened to make Lily look so pensive and unhappy? Granted, her unhappiness could be due to the fact that they were rapidly approaching Marmoreal. It didn't take a genius to realize that Lily had likely gone to the Outlands against her mother's orders. Mirana was a doting mother, but Lily was probably going to be in for the lecture of a lifetime.
Slowly, Regina's gaze drifted to the right; warily, as if she were probing a wound to determine the extent of the pain. Ah. Yes. It was still painful to glance over and see no one beside her.
She couldn't believe Dafydd was really gone. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say she didn't want to believe he was gone. She didn't want to believe that their relationship was over, that it could have ended so abruptly. She really didn't want to believe that he hated her. But the evidence was before her eyes; the simple fact that he wasn't riding to Marmoreal beside her was concrete proof. He wasn't here, and he would never be here again. He was gone. She was on her own.
She wondered where he was right now. Was he still raging through the Tulgey Wood, wandering among the trees while his Madness ate him alive? Had he returned to Iplam, to marvel in his new home? She hoped he was safe, wherever he was. She hoped that someone found him and eased him from his Madness. She closed her eyes as her heart lurched in pain again. He might hate her, but oh Fates, she didn't hate him, and she didn't want him hurt or lost or drowning in Madness.
Please, take care of him, she silently begged Underland.
It probably wasn't healthy, that she was still so focused on him when he had clearly renounced her. He wanted nothing to do with her; why did she still care about him? He seemed perfectly able to cast her off; why could she not rid herself of her feelings for him just as easily? Why could she not simply will herself out of love with him?
Love… when had that happened? When had her feelings for him turned to love? Fates, when had she even begun to have feelings for him? How could she have missed something that monumentally important? How could these feelings have taken root and grown so exponentially without her noticing it? How could she have been so blind?
Well, her blinders were off now, she thought ruefully; Dafydd had ripped them away quite effectively. She brought a hand up to her lips, gingerly touching them; they were still swollen and bruised, over twelve hours later. He had frightened her, with the Madness burning in his eyes and with the vicious, primal way he had kissed her. But it had been strangely thrilling, too; he had touched upon a hunger she hadn't even realized existed. He had been brutal, animalistic, almost possessive…
Why had he kissed her like that, if he hated her?
Admittedly, Regina didn't have much experience in the realm of physical affection. Well, it was more accurate to say she had no experience, outside of today. But surely if Dafydd truly hated her, he couldn't have kissed her like… like… like she was the air he breathed. He couldn't force breath-stealing passion into a kiss if he didn't feel it, could he?
Actually, now that she really thought about it… what did it matter how he kissed her? The simple fact was, he had kissed her. Twice. Thoroughly. One didn't kiss one's enemy. Kissing, as far as Regina knew, was the exclusive territory of love. Therefore, if Dafydd had kissed her, then logically that had to mean that he… that he felt… Goodness, she could hardly think the words in the privacy of her own mind! He couldn't actually… love her? But what other conclusion could she draw from his behavior?
Then again, there was that story that had gone around the drawing rooms of the ton last Season, of the daughter of a Lord who had believed a certain gentleman's declarations of love, and had allowed herself to be alone with him… Rumor had it she had been discreetly sent away when she was found to be in the family way. If it was possible that poor girl had been hoodwinked, could Regina be falling for the same charade?
Of course, she didn't see how it mattered now. Even if she'd been tricked into believing Dafydd, and even if she'd fallen in love with him, he was still gone. He had still rejected her. So either way, she was left on her own to deal with these baffling questions and this persistent ache in her heart.
Really, it was a relief when the traveling party reached the gates of the White Palace. Two blobs of white on the stairs resolved themselves into the figures of the White Queen and King. There was a large smile of relief and welcome on Mirana's face as she flitted down the stairs to greet them. Wearily, the Blue Royals and Lily dismounted, walking forward to greet the High Queen.
"Welcome home," she breathed, kissing both Alice and Regina on the foreheads. "Oh, welcome home. I was so worried for you."
"We're alright, Mira," Alice replied tiredly, finding a smile from somewhere.
Unfortunately, at that exact moment Regina swayed, groaning piteously as she leaned against Sora's side, clutching at her injured left side and gritting her teeth in pain. Tarrant was by her side in an instant, gently urging her to transfer her weight onto him. He held her carefully as she gasped for breath, then helped her walk forward, his face tightening in helpless anger as Regina's face went white with pain.
"I'm sorry to cut our reunion short, Majesty," Tarrant said apologetically. "But we're in need of your help."
"Of course," Mirana said quickly, hands fluttering. "I'm so sorry, Tarrant, I didn't realize. Of course, bring Regina inside. I'll be right there."
Tarrant nodded his thanks, quietly murmuring encouragement to Regina as he got her walking again. Kalen hurried after them, easily taking Regina's free arm over his shoulders and helping Tarrant steady her as they started up the stairs.
"Alice, if you'd like to have something to eat I can order tea brought to your rooms," Mirana offered.
"No thank you," Alice shook her head. "Not just now, I'd rather go with you to see after Regina."
"Of course," Mirana nodded, before sending a Look her daughter's way. "Lily, I'd like to see you in my study when I get back, please."
Lily concealed a wince, nodding silently. She stood back awkwardly, watching her family bustle off after Regina. Well… this was… unpleasant.
She wondered absently just how much trouble she might be in this time. She had probably worried her mother half to Death, disappearing as she had without a word. Lily stood by what she'd done; Regina had needed saving, and Lily didn't regret having tried. But she probably could have gone about it in a better way. A way, for example, that didn't give her mother a heart attack.
Knowing her mother would be occupied tending to Regina for a while, Lily made her way through the castle and to her own suite. She wished she had time for a full bath; she was filthy from days of dust and sweat in the Outlands, not to mention blood and sweat from the battle in Iplam. But she knew that if she wasn't in her mother's study by the time Mirana returned from the healers' wing, she would be in even deeper trouble. So instead of a bath, Lily contented herself with washing herself as well as she could with the basin of water in her bathroom. She called to her maid Dahlia to help her dress, trying to hide her displeased face at the voluminous skirts and restraining corset. She had gotten so used to her breeches over the last two days; to be trapped in a prison of panniers, petticoats and stomachers seemed like torture.
Lily stared at herself in the mirror when she was dressed. The clean, prim princess swathed in silk and lace… she hardly recognized herself. The past two days had been so terrifying, so infuriating, so full of emotional upheaval and desperate fights for her life, and yet none of that could be seen in this lovely, remote creature. She didn't know how to be this pristine, serene princess. Not when she knew that only moments ago she had been covered in blood and breeches, and it had felt like freedom. Could she go back to the polite world of Marmoreal, to the hushed murmurs and endless teas and sedate pace of walking, after she'd wielded a sword and strided along without skirts and rode hell for leather across two lands?
Troubled, Lily left her suite and began the journey across the palace into her mother's study. To her surprise, it wasn't Mirana who greeted her at the door, but Kalen. Lily looked up at her father, alarmed to see that there were new lines on his face, new threads of white in his black hair. Oh dear, had she done this to him?
"Come in, Lily," Kalen said, stepping back and ushering Lily inside.
Nervously fisting her hands in her skirts, Lily stepped into the study, trying not to flinch as Kalen shut the door behind her. Schooling her breath to calm, she walked through the study, frowning in curiosity at the pedestal that stood in the center of the room. Atop a plush pillow lay a green and blue sac, roughly the size of a chicken's egg. It lay basking in the glow of several candles. Now what in the world could that possibly be? What sort of experiment was her mother running? Kalen distracted Lily from her reverie however, motioning to the two couches on the far side of study. Swallowing hard, Lily sank onto one couch, staring blankly at the tea service that had been prepared.
"I'm glad to see you've made it home safely," Kalen began, seating himself opposite Lily.
"I… yes," Lily said, clearing her throat. "I did."
A painfully awkward silence fell as Kalen poured the tea. Lily picked at the embroidery on her gown, hating the silence. Wasn't her father going to lecture her? He wasn't really one for yelling at his children, but even if he started telling her how disappointed in her he was, that was preferable to this silence.
"I'm sorry," she blurted out, desperate to end the silence.
Kalen raised an eyebrow as he handed Lily her cup. "Do you know what you're apologizing for?"
Lily bit her lip, stirring her tea. What was she apologizing for? Running away to rescue Regina? Not at all. Leaving her gown in a heap on the floor and taking off in breeches? Not for that, either. Really, there was only one part of the past few days that she regretted.
"For worrying you?" she tried, not sure why her voice lifted into a question at the end.
Kalen sighed deeply, and she could see the disappointment painting itself across her face. "No."
Lily's face fell. He was rejecting her apology? Well… now what?
"Well…" she floundered."I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry for going after Gigi. I know Mother told me it wasn't my right to go, but I couldn't just sit here and do nothing!" she exclaimed in a rush.
Kalen raised his eyebrows at her over the rim of his teacup. "So instead you decided to put your mother and I in the same position that Alice and Tarrant were in, possibly worse."
"I… oh," Lily said blankly.
"They knew Regina was alive, and being held," Kalen elaborated, fixing Lily with an even gaze. "They knew and they were en route to save her. You disappeared, without a word or even a note. We didn't know if you were alive, dead, captured; we knew nothing. We didn't even have the option of looking into the Oraculum, because Absolem has Faded and the Oraculum was destroyed. There was no one en route to save you. We had no idea which way you went or to where. That is what you chose to do to your mother and me. That is why I'm upset, Lily."
Another apology crawled up Lily's throat, but it died on her tongue. Apologize? What good were her words in the face of what she had done? And the worst of it was, it had all been for nothing. She had had an adventure, but she hadn't saved Regina. It appeared that Regina had saved herself from the Outlands, and then Dafydd had saved her from his brother. The entire adventure could have taken place without Lily, and come to the same conclusion. The only thing Lily had managed to do was inspire Alice to keep going, and honestly? She was Alice of Legend, Alice the Champion. She probably would have talked herself back around to continuing her quest, given enough time. What had Lily accomplished?
Lily's eyes blurred with tears as she bowed her head under the weight of her guilt. She'd put her parents through exactly what Alice and Tarrant had been through, and it had all been for nothing. She was a failure, which was bad enough, but she was also a disappointment. She couldn't bear to think that she had disappointed her parents.
She would be better, she silently swore. She would accept the fact that she wasn't an adventurer, wasn't a Champion. She was a Princess, and she would be a good one. She would learn to curb her impulsiveness, stifle her automatic response to rush into danger. She would learn how to rule, and how to obey.
The instant her shoulders began to shake from her sobs, Kalen was there, wrapping his arms around Lily and holding her close. Through her tears, the hammer of guilt beat over her head again as she realized her father's hands were shaking with the emotions he was holding back.
"We love you, Lily," he told her, kissing the top of her head. "If you're dead set on something, talk to us. Make us listen. I'd rather know about and not like you doing something than not know at all."
Lily nodded silently, throwing her arms around her father as she cried onto his shoulder. Consumed in her grief though she was, she instantly jerked up when she heard the study door open. Before Mirana had even finished shutting the door behind her, Lily was running to her, throwing her arms around her mother.
"Oh Mother, I'm so sorry," she managed to gasp out between her tears.
Mirana stroked Lily's short curls and back gently, as she had when Lily was a child. "Please don't do that to us again, Lily," she said softly.
"I promise," Lily sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut.
"You understand you must be punished," Mirana began.
Lily nodded on her mother's shoulder, stifling a sigh. She hated being punished, like a child… Then again, she had behaved rather childishly. Maybe, for all her Aging, she still hadn't grown up.
Gently, Mirana withdrew from Lily, motioning for her to follow as Mirana floated over to the pedestal that had so puzzled Lily earlier. Sniffing, Lily rubbed her eyes free of tears as she followed her mother. She blinked down at the egg, wondering again what on earth it was.
"If you're so determined to be a Champion, then you will guard this," Mirana said, gently touching the egg. "You will keep it safe, and warm, until it hatches."
"I… yes, Mother," Lily said, subdued. "What is it?"
"It is an Egg," Mirana replied. "What may be inside the Egg, I cannot say. Regardless, it is your task to protect it. You will remain here, in the Study. You will take your meals here, do your studies here, and sleep here. You will be allowed to leave only to bathe and for your weapons training."
Lily's head jerked up in surprise. She had thought that her mother would immediately forbid Lily from ever touching a weapon again. But she was going to allow her to continue her training?
"Don't look so surprised," Kalen said mildly. "I taught you everything so that you could survive in any scenario. Of course, you seem to have forgotten the first rule of wilderness survival."
Lily licked her lips. "Leave tracks?"
Kalen's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Not quite. Always make sure someone knows where you're going, how you're getting there, and when you'll be back."
Lily nodded, her gaze falling to her hands. "I really am sorry."
"Well now," Mirana said, her fingers twitching. "We'll leave you here with the Egg. I'm sure your siblings will be popping by to hear all about your adventures."
Lily watched her parents withdraw from the study before turning to face the Egg. Well, all things considered, this wasn't so bad a punishment. Shrugging, she walked over to the bookshelf and chose a volume for herself, then sat down at her mother's desk to settle in and begin her task.
Alice and Tarrant were both studies in anxiety as they watched Mirana labor over their injured daughter. Tarrant sat on the opposite side of the bed from Mirana. He held himself very still; his back ramrod straight, his jaw and fists clenched. Only the maelstrom of colors in his eyes revealed how very agitated he was, as he watched Mirana mixing her salves and hemming to herself. Alice, in contrast, was a study of motion. She was pacing back and forth across the chamber- surprisingly agilely, and without her cane- running a hand through her hair every once in a while. Unlike Tarrant, who was determinedly silent, Alice was muttering to herself- old riddles and nursery rhymes, it sounded like.
Mirana left them to their separate agitations, focusing instead on Regina. She had been heavily sedated and was now sleeping deeply, and that was good, because the long cut along her side needed quite a lot of attention. Neither Tarrant nor Alice knew how Regina had gotten injured, but it was clear to Mirana that she had been carrying this wound for at least a day, probably more. She could see where the wound had tried to scab over, but it had been ripped open repeatedly, leaving the edges jagged and raw. The wound was clean, and Mirana could see the remains of healing ointments; Tarrant had told her that he had tried to tend the wound yesterday afternoon, after the battle at Iplam. The cut must have opened again on the ride from Witzend to Marmoreal, and that had Mirana worried; if the wound had been repeatedly opened, Regina must have lost quite a lot of blood.
She worked quickly, her delicate fingers nimbly smoothing a rather foul-smelling mix of herbs and tree saps over the wound. Satisfied, Mirana gently asked Tarrant to lift Regina's torso so that she could wrap a long length of bandage around Regina's ribcage. When she was finished, she stood with a satisfied nod.
"She's going to be alright," she announced, washing her hands. "You'll have to stay here a few days, I'm afraid. Regina can't be moved until that wound starts to heal. Any riding or jostling about will only make things worse, so she'll have to stay in bed."
"Thank you, Mirana," Alice said gratefully.
Mirana smiled at her sister-queen, then gracefully withdrew, leaving the Blue Royals alone with each other. Tarrant sighed deeply, weakly leaning forward and taking one of Regina's hands in both of his and pressing a kiss to it, wearily closing his eyes. Alice sank into Mirana's vacated chair, leaning forward to gently stroke Regina's unruly curls.
It was surprisingly peaceful to sit like this, Alice noted with some surprise. The last time she and Tarrant had actually spoken to each other had been during that disastrous trip over the Border Mountains into the Outlands. In the ensuing few days they had been subject to so much torture, despair, and emotional upheaval and reversals that it seemed ludicrous to think that they were sitting in Marmoreal, alive and well with almost nothing to hint at what they'd been through.
It was still there though, the tension. Time had done his work and distanced them from the first pain of the horrible things they'd said to each other, but they'd also had time to sit with those words, to brood over them and live with them. They'd given Time enough leeway to make those accusations and taunts a part of their psychology, their memories.
She observed Tarrant while his attention was firmly riveted on their daughter. He had Aged, after they'd been told of Regina's death. With everything that had been happening at the time, Alice hadn't had much attention to spare to notice it, but it struck her keenly now. Tarrant's hair was almost completely white, and there were deep lines inscribed at his eyes and mouth. The Aging must have made his injuries painful, she thought absently. The bruises were beginning to dull from their florid blues and purples to a mottled, sickly yellowish green, but they must have ached abominably. Tarrant had been dutifully drinking pain relieving elixirs, but he had refused Mirana's offer of additional medical attention in deference to Regina.
His hair white, his movements slowed… her face lined, and her perennially aching joints… what a pair they made, she mused absently. What a pair of Mad, stubborn old fools.
Alice wouldn't stand for it. She'd miraculously been given a second chance with her daughter; she wasn't about to lose her husband again. So, though she'd always wrestled with her pride, she choked it back and forced herself to speak first.
"I'm sorry, Tarrant," she said quietly, so as not to wake Regina. "For the things I said, in the Mountains."
Tarrant glanced over at Alice, a thoughtful look on his face. "It doesn't matter, Alice."
"But it does," she argued. "I always seem to be hurting you, and I don't mean to."
"We seem to keep making the same mistakes over again," Tarrant sighed. "We tore each other apart after Regina was taken Above, too."
"We did," Alice said ruefully. "And we wasted eighteen years. I don't want to waste any more Time, Tarrant. The two of you are on bad enough terms already, without our adding to it," she added wryly.
Tarrant smiled deprecatingly in silent agreement. He leaned over, resting his elbows on his thighs as he gently kneaded Regina's hand in his.
Alice bit her lip as she watched him. She had said all she could say; whether Tarrant agreed with her or not was out of her control. Oh, she loathed giving up her control, and he knew it. Still, if she had to give up control to anyone, best if it was him. If she trusted anyone in either world, it was Tarrant. And she would keep reminding herself of that.
"When I was out there, at the Tea Table," he began hesitantly, as though probing a wound he wasn't sure had entirely healed. "When I was sitting there, all alone…"
Alice bit back a flinch. They had never discussed those eighteen long years of separation. Alice had never heard what Tarrant had done with himself; she had never told him of her own struggles in the shadows of Marmoreal. They had always had a silent agreement that it was better to let sleeping dogs lie, and to leave the past behind them. Now that Tarrant was opening up, Alice wasn't entirely sure she wanted to hear, to face what she had done to him. But she forced herself to keep silent, to bear witness to his suffering and to accept her share of the blame for what had been done.
"My greatest dream, my only wish, was to stitch us all back together again," he said softly. "To see us a family again. I nearly squandered that chance," he admitted, his face falling. "We've not been a model family this past six-month, have we?"
"No," Alice agreed softly. "No, we haven't."
"I would be a fool to let us slip through our fingers again," he said. "I'm sorry, Alice."
He reached a hesitant hand across the bed, holding his palm up in silent invitation. Alice smiled tremulously, blinking back tears as she reached her own shaking fingers forward to clasp his, reclaiming his hand and her place at his side.
The change happened gradually. Alice couldn't say for certain when the wrinkles around Tarrant's eyes smoothed away, when his hair regained its electric orange vitality. But the change was undeniably happening; he was de-Aging before her very eyes. And judging by the expression on Tarrant's face, and by the sudden easing of pain in her joints, the same thing must be happening to her. In a few moments more, Alice stared in awe at Tarrant, shocked to see him look so very young.
With a trembling hand, Tarrant reached out and gently stroked Alice's cheek, a gesture which brought tears to her eyes. She trapped his fingers with her own, holding his hand to her face and gently breathing in his scent.
"My Alice," he lisped, revealing the gap between his teeth as he smiled. "Don't cry."
Deciding that now was not the time to be timid with her own husband, Alice leaned forward and boldly kissed him. His eyes widened in surprise before drifting shut as he returned the kiss, and for a breathless moment they remained like that, before pulling apart, matching smiles on their faces.
"Hatter?" Alice asked softly, tilting her head. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"
She was rewarded by the most beautiful beaming smile she'd seen cross Tarrant's face in a long time. He took her hand in his again, shaking his head.
"I haven't the slightest idea, my Teacup," he replied tremulously.
He came to slowly, and as soon as he was conscious enough to realize he was awake, he found himself wishing he was still passed out. He felt like he had been stomped on by a bevy of Bandersnatches; his pulse pounded in his temples and every last muscle, bone, and hair hurt. Dafydd didn't try to move, or even open his eyes; doing so would take too much effort, and it would hurt too much. Instead, he tried to remember just what had happened to him.
Judging by the amount of pain he was in, not to mention the way even his thoughts hurt, as though they'd been ripped apart and thrown into a whirlwind… he must have gone Mad. How had he lost control like that? He had been fighting his battle lust since the moment he discovered that Regina was missing, but when had his sanity slipped through his fingers? It all got hazy after Niall said Regina was dead…
He groaned, nearly silently. Regina was dead, wasn't she? He could have sworn he had seen her through the haze of the Madness, had felt her beneath his hands, tasted her… Though admittedly, that could easily have been just another hallucination or dream. Heaven knew he'd imagined what she tasted like a thousand times.
But what had happened in his Madness? He could only assume that he'd been in battle; the ache in his muscles could only have come from fighting. Who had he fought against? He was alive, so he must have won. Was his family safe? Were Tarrant and Alice alright? Where was his brother?
His brother…
Dafydd's eyes shot open, and he scrambled up from his belly-down sprawl into a seated position. That was as far as he could get before the pain in his head became blinding, and he held his head in his hands, groaning.
The memories were jumbled and faded, hazy and disjointed. He remembered Regina on top of the Brae, her sword locked with Niall's… Niall's accusing gaze… The flash of a sword… Madness, horror, terror, denial, grief… The warmth of her lips, the freezing coldness when she disappeared…
"You stupid moron!"
The sharp, furious voice cut through his ears and drove straight into his brain, making him see stars. The pain in his head was so terrible that he barely noticed the sting across his face as he was slapped, claws raking into his cheek. Weak as he was, the blow was enough to knock him onto his back, and he found himself staring in bemusement at the livid Cat perched on his chest, her ears flattened as she hissed and glared at him.
"How dare you," she seethed. "How dare you hurt my mistress like that!"
"Wha-?" he asked dumbly, but he was silenced by another well-aimed blow.
"You broke her heart, you great galumphing idiot!" she yelled at him, her voice rising into a howl that sent starbursts of pain through his head again. "I trusted you! I trusted you to take care of her, and look what you did! You broke her worse than the Outlands did!"
He stared at Witzend mutely, completely confused, but a trickle of dread was sliding its way down his spine. Broken her heart? What? What had happened, he asked himself again, the first tendrils of panic wrapping around him.
"Do you have any idea how much work I've put into her future?" Witzend yelled at him, her claws digging into his chest. "And can you even begin to comprehend how very close it all is to collapsing, simply because you're an idiot? I will not allow you to jeopardize my mistress' future simply because you are a worthless moron!" she yowled, smacking him again. "Now, you are going to Iplam, you are going to talk to Regina, and you are going to fix this, or so help me Absolem I will ensure that you never father your sons!"
With a final glare, Witzend disappeared in a haze of smoke. Gingerly, Dafydd sat up, fighting off a wave of nausea as he did so. What in the world had the Cat been talking about? What had he done to Regina? Oh Fates, he hadn't hurt her, had he? He paled as that possibility sank in. If he had attacked her in his Madness, he would never be able to forgive himself.
He looked around quickly, trying to get his bearings. He stood in a forest. Alright, he was somewhere in Underland, there were no trees like this in the Outlands. If his hazy memories were correct, he had to be in Iplam, close to the Brae. Yes, he was near the Brae; that low humming in his ears wasn't his own thoughts, that was the Music of the Hightopps. He stood there, transfixed by the beautiful Song, marveling that he could hear it. He could hear the Song… why could he hear the Song? This must be another change that had happened during his Madness…
He hissed in pain as he felt sharp teeth bite into his calf. He glared down at Witzend, who glared right back at him…
But then his attention was completely distracted by a tiny rock lying on the ground by her paw. Hardly daring to believe his eyes, he sank down, slowly picking the pebble up.
It was tiny, only about the size of his nail. It was a deep shade of lavender, an unusual color for a rock. But the most extraordinary thing about it was its shape. Time and erosion had weathered the rock into the shape of a heart. Fates above, it was a Heart-Rock. He had never seen one in Underland before… not; he added hastily to himself, that he'd been looking. Of course he wouldn't dare to presume that he had any right to find a Heart-Rock… But here it was, lying literally right at his feet. Was it a sign, he tentatively wondered, staring at the rock in awe. Could Tearmunn Herself possibly be telling him… giving Her permission for him to…?
"If you're done examining your rocks, would you mind getting a move on?" Witzend snapped.
"If you're so concerned, you could just transport me to her," Dafydd snapped back, rubbing his aching temples.
"I'm not giving you any more help than I have to," she retorted, glaring at him. "You think I like that her future is so tied up to yours? If you want that to continue, work for it."
So saying, Witzend disappeared again. Dafydd rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at the place where she'd been sitting. He and Witzend had never particularly gotten along; the Cat, when she was around, was far too protective of "her" human to take a shine to him.
No matter. Witzend was right, in any case; he needed to find Regina. He needed to figure out what was going on, what had happened since he slipped into Madness. And if he'd hurt her… Underland forbid, if he'd hit her… He was going to fall on his knees and beg until she forgave him.
Regina lay on a chaise longue outside the High House, basking in the weak winter sunlight and watching her new clan bustle about. Tarrant was darting to and fro, planning out village streets and family plots willy-nilly. Madam Gwynyth, who had been pointed out to Regina by Tarrant as Dafydd's mother, was directing the men in choosing their home plots and organizing their belongings. Alice had reluctantly left Regina's side to return to Berserka; she was going to round up the Clubs and put them to work quickly building essential structures like grain silos and wells, to tide the Hightopps over as they built their houses and forges and such.
As Regina lay and watched the activity, she shook her head in wonder. She couldn't believe that she suddenly had a clan. What had happened to bring this about? She had been so sure that there would be a war between the Outlanders and the Club army, but instead here they all were, one big family. Only the plots of earth on the newly christened Burial Mound stood testament to the battle that had been waged.
How Dafydd would love this… Regina flinched, shifting uneasily. Oh blast it, her thoughts kept drifting back to her erstwhile Champion every few moments. Her mind was torturing her with these constant thoughts of him, and she wished the thoughts would stop; no amount of wishful thinking was going to bring him back to her.
Or, it seemed, back in general. Regina had asked Ioan, the rest of her Deuces, and her athair, but no one had seen Dafydd since the battle five days ago. Once they had all realized that none of them had any idea where in Underland Dafydd was, Ioan had organized the Deuces into a search party. He had left two- Rhys and Owain- to guard over Regina. The other ten of them had taken off in a clockwork pattern, each taking an o'clock and riding off in hopes of finding Dafydd before, as Ioan put it, "He ends up getting himself killed, the galumphing idiot." Each had taken a spare horse with them, for Dafydd to ride in case they should be the one to find him. They had been gone for four days, but Dafydd had yet to be discovered.
She wondered where he was. Had he returned to the Outlands? Had he taken off for one of the other kingdoms? Fates forbid, was he laying dead somewhere? Oh, she couldn't live with that possibility, and she begged Underland to keep it from happening. It was much better to have Dafydd alive and hating her than for him to be dead.
"Are you alright, little sprig?"
Regina glanced up, only mildly surprised to see Rhonwen looking down at her. After leaving Marmoreal two days ago, Regina, Alice and Tarrant had immediately returned to Iplam, back to their clan. Tarrant had introduced Regina to the Council of Elders, stating that they had served as advisors to Niall in the Outlands and that he intended for them to act as a kind of court of law, settling the everyday disputes and day to day decisions for the Hightopps. Rhonwen had taken quite a shine to Regina, and had spent a good deal of the past two days regaling the princess with clan stories and legends. Rhonwen's company had certainly made the tedium of enforced bed rest easier to bear.
"I'm fine, Rhonwen," Regina said, trying to smile.
"You're lying," Rhonwen said bluntly, settling herself on a bench beside Regina. "You're worrying about Dafydd."
Regina looked at Rhonwen, surprised; she had thought she'd hidden it better than that. The old woman, however, merely looked at Regina with a crafty, far-too-knowing gaze.
"It's understandable, mind," Rhonwen continued, leaning on her cane. "Dafydd's Madness has always been a fearsome thing to behold. But he's always come home, Regina." She fixed Regina with another of those uncomfortably knowledgeable gazes. "He always finds his way home."
Regina bit her lip and looked away, not sure she wanted to delve into the subtext of that statement. The thing that caught her gaze, however, was the very subject of her conversation with Rhonwen. Dafydd was riding through the town beside Ioan, his head ducked low to avoid everyone's gaze. Regina's breath caught in her throat as her heart stopped beating; he looked absolutely terrible. What had he been through for the past five days?
She sat up, but the pain in her side kept her from fully rising or walking forward. Instead, she was imprisoned on her chaise, silently watching Dafydd pass through the main thoroughfare of the makeshift village. He was garnering a lot of attention from the clan, and not all of it positive. Though many people were relieved and excited that their prince had returned home, there were accusatory glares and dark mutterings, as well. Regina bit her lip as she watched the clan's reaction to Dafydd; this was something she hadn't thought of. She had been so focused on how she would feel when Dafydd came back that she hadn't thought about how his people would feel. Niall was dead, and plenty of people on the battlefield had seen how it had happened. Granted, Regina was sure that details would be confused in the retellings; such was the nature of storytelling. But in one form or another, everyone in the clan knew that Dafydd had killed Niall with his own sword. How would Dafydd face his people?
"Well, I see you've found him, Ioan," Rhonwen stated, struggling to her feet. "It's good to know you're good for something after all."
"Oi! I'll have you know I'm very good at keeping track of him!" Ioan protested in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.
Rhonwen raised a silent, eloquent eyebrow, under which Ioan crumpled slightly. Smirking in delight, Rhonwen turned her attention to Dafydd.
"You look terrible, boy," she stated. "Take Regina for a walk up the Brae, it'll do you both good."
So saying, Rhonwen hobbled off, barking at Ioan to fetch her shawl. Wincing, Ioan sidled off, but Regina scarcely had attention to spare for him; she was too absorbed with Dafydd.
For the first time since entering the village, Dafydd lifted his gaze, nervously seeking her eyes. She froze beneath his gaze, her heart hammering in her chest so hard she was sure he could see it. He appeared to be examining her, and whatever he was looking for, he relaxed after a moment, relief flooding his eyes. She had no idea what that meant. She wished he would say something; this pregnant silence was incredibly painful. Now that she was assured he was alive and relatively well, the pain of their separation had room to grow, and it took her breath away with its sheer power. Oh, she had missed him in the last few days. And now he stood right there before her… and it was going to hurt so much when he walked away again.
"You're alive," he said softly.
"I… yes," Regina said, her voice choked. "We already established that."
"I… oh," he said, frowning and coloring slightly. "We did?"
Regina's brows furrowed. "You don't remember?"
"Um… no," he confessed, his gaze dropping back to his hands. "Not really. I… never do, when I… lose control, like that."
She supposed that wasn't surprising. She herself had much the same problem; when the Haziness descended on her it was terribly difficult to keep track of details. But this, then, provided a different set of problems. If Dafydd didn't remember their last interaction, did that mean that everything that had been said- and done- was invalid? Did it count, if he had no memory of it? If he couldn't remember having rejected her, did that mean that it wasn't true? Or was she merely trying to take advantage of his lost memories in order to make things easier on herself?
"Could we… walk to the Brae?" he asked hesitantly, glancing around. "Somewhere… quieter?"
Regina bit her lip, tortured by the memories of Last Time. The last time they had been alone together, he had rendered her utterly breathless… and he had ripped her heart out of her chest, stomping it into the dirt. Was he seeking a repeat performance? Now that he was himself again and in his right mind, was he going to reject her again, just to satisfy himself since he didn't remember doing it the first time?
"I… yes, of course," she said hesitantly.
Drawing a deep breath to steel herself against the pain, she placed a hand on the armrest of her chaise and slowly sat up, hissing in pain as she did so. Dafydd frowned and moved forward to help her, but she shied away, standing of her own willpower. His hands fluttered ineffectually for a moment, before falling to his sides, and her heart gave another great lurch. Oh, this was terrible; to be so trapped between wanting to protect herself from him and needing him close was a special kind of torture.
"Are you alright?" he asked uncertainly.
"I'm fine," she answered quickly.
Dafydd frowned; she certainly wasn't behaving as if she was alright. She was holding herself stiffly, carefully wrapping her arms around her torso. His gaze fell to her side as a memory floated through his brain.
"Your dress," he said suddenly, the information clicking. "It was torn, and bloody. You were cut, weren't you? On your side?"
Regina bit her lip, nodding slowly. "I'm fine," she repeated. "Aunt Mirana tended to it, and she says I'll be fine. Though… it will scar," she added wistfully, sighing. "No matter. No one will see it, so it's fine."
Dafydd nodded slowly, his heart sinking. He knew that they were lucky, that a scar on her side was nothing compared to what might have been done to her- what he thought had been done. She was alive, and relatively unharmed; a wound on her side [which, as she had said, no one would see] shouldn't have distressed him. But the knowledge that his people had physically hurt her, that she would bear physical scars because of his failure to protect her, cut him deeply. His profound failure was only compounding the more he learned about this disastrous week.
Ioan had found him walking through the Tulgey Wood on his way back to the Brae. Bless him, Ioan had brought a horse for Dafydd, and they had ridden back together. While they were riding, Ioan had told him everything that had happened in the past few days- everything Dafydd had done to avoid war, how he had orchestrated the clan's return to Underland under Tarrant's protection. Then, he had slowly, reluctantly, told Dafydd of the battle in Iplam, of what Dafydd had done.
Even now, days later, his mind shied away from memories of the battle. He knew, intellectually, what he had done, but he couldn't fathom it. He couldn't quite believe it had happened. And there was so much else to deal with at the moment; he simply had no attention to spare for what had happened on top of the Brae. But after… that event… Dafydd had run off, away from everyone; Ioan had no idea what might have happened between him and Regina.
Dafydd kept a close watch on Regina out of the corner of his eye as they walked away from the hustle of the village and towards the Brae. There was something different about her, he thought; she wasn't quite the same as he remembered. She looked… older, he realized suddenly. Not drastically older; it wasn't as though she had Aged decades in only moments, as Tarrant had done in the Outlands. But she had Aged; another mark her experiences had laid on her. Something precious had been taken from her; her charming naivety, the innocence in her large green eyes, had vanished. She may only have gained a year from her birthday, but she had Aged quite a bit more than that.
She seemed profoundly uncomfortable, he noticed, and it wasn't just the physical pain she must have been in, nor even the discomfort of the winter chill; she wore a thick woolen dress and had been wrapped in a heavy fur-lined coat to protect her from the wind. Something was bothering her; there was something she wasn't telling him. He couldn't see any injuries, which meant he must not have assaulted her, but… He felt his heart falling. Was it possible he had done something else to her? What had he said to her, during their encounter in the woods? He barely remembered it; he knew, or at least he was fairly certain, that she had been there. He thought he might have kissed her… Was that it? Had he frightened her, been too forward? Or… he clenched his jaw in fear. He hadn't tried to force himself on her, had he? Oh Fates, if he had made her afraid of him…
As they made it to the crest of Hightopp Hill, Regina felt a profound sense of déjà vu. She had stood on the Brae only eight days ago, dancing with Dafydd as the Music wrapped around them like a caress. Only eight days… But Regina felt eons older, and so much less innocent. Was she still the same person? How could she possibly be the same Regina who had danced while the twilight settled around her like a benediction, dreaming such innocent and impossible dreams? How was it possible that every belief, every relationship she held so dear, had been blown apart and ripped to shreds? Was anything the same anymore?
"Regina?" Dafydd asked hesitantly. "What… what happened? Between us, after the battle?"
Regina froze, her fists closing around folds in her coat as she hugged herself. Oh no. She didn't want to relive what had happened; she didn't want to have to face Dafydd when he told her that it was all true, that he couldn't stand her and that he wanted nothing more to do with her.
He watched her freeze, watched her face pale, and his own fear started rising. Witzend had been right; he'd done something terrible to her. Something to break her heart. Would she tell him the truth? More importantly, would she allow him to make amends?
"I… I don't know how much it matters…" she began hesitantly. "I mean, you were Mad, you can't…"
"Don't try to spare me, Regina," he burst out, dread lacing his voice. "Tell me what I did."
A blush stained her cheek, and she bowed her head, but her voice couldn't quite hide the fact that there were tears in her eyes.
"You said… that I'd divided your loyalties," she admitted, the pain clear in her voice. "That I led you to… to betray your family, for no good reason. So I… I released you from my service."
His eyes widened in shock. Her every word cut into him like shards of glass, and with every passing moment the shards drove their way further and further through him, creating wounds that went soul deep. Oh Fates, what had he done?
"I…"
He had no idea what to say; what on earth could be said to that? How could he apologize for what he had done, what he had put her through? What apology was enough for the betrayal he had committed against her? She was trying so hard to hold herself together and remain calm, but it was painfully, exquisitely obvious to him that he had cut her to the core. How could he make amends for hurting her?
He walked towards her cautiously on shaky legs. She looked up at him, and the expression on his face drove another sword through his heart. Heartbreak, resignation, a complete breaking of her trust in him. He hadn't realized how important that trust had become to him, until now, when he saw it in shattered pieces.
He fell to his knees before her, blinking back tears and swallowing the lump in his throat as he shakily took her hand. Her fingers were cold and nerveless, and he felt them shaking slightly.
"I owe my life to you," he said in a near-whisper, pressing his forehead against her hand. "I belong to you, Princess. Don't accept what I said," he quietly begged her. "Don't listen to the words of a Mad man."
"You said that I tore you apart," she said quietly. "You… It was clear that you hated me."
"Never," he whispered, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut.
"I can't hold you against your will," she said, her voice cracking; he felt a tear fall onto his head. "I won't."
He looked up at her, forcing himself to watch the tears falling from her eyes. He staggered to his feet, raising his hand to wipe away her tears, but stopping himself. He had no right to comfort her, not when her pain was his fault.
"Do you want me to go?" he asked, his voice choked.
He dreaded her answer. Of course she wouldn't want him to stay; not after he'd apparently said that he didn't want anything to do with her. He had no idea what he would do, if she rejected him. She had released him from her service, so there was no place for him in Crims; he wasn't sure he could face his family, which meant he couldn't stay in Iplam. He would have to return to the Outlands, he thought, a sick feeling of dread rising in him at the prospect. Cut off from his family, his home, from her… But what other choice was there?
"No," she whispered, her tears falling harder. "I don't want you to leave."
He hadn't realized he was holding his breath; at her statement it left him in a rush. His head bowed and his shoulders sagged under the weight of his relief. Oh, thank the Fates. He would do anything, anything, to regain her trust; he would do everything in his power to repair her damaged faith in him, to make amends. As long as she let him stay.
"Then I'm here," he whispered, promising her. "I'm not leaving until you order me away."
"Promise me," she whispered, her voice shaking.
"I swear it," he immediately said. "I'll stay as long as you'll have me."
She let out a shaky sigh, her head bowing, and this time he did allow himself to reach out for her. To his astonishment, she clung to him, burying her face in his chest as she quietly cried. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, a few tears of his own escaping to join hers. They clung to each other as they cried, absolving each other through their tears.
They hadn't remained on the Brae much longer after their tenuous reconciliation. The instant Regina had swayed on her feet, Dafydd had immediately ushered her down to the High House. She hadn't even argued with him; truth be told, returning to the High House was as good an excuse as any to get away from him for a while. They had made their peace, yes, but it was yet another in a long line of reversals and upheavals over the past week, and Regina found that she simply didn't have the strength to deal with it yet. She just needed time to herself, and the High House was as good a place as any to find it.
Dafydd didn't follow her into her suite. He delivered her into the waiting hands of Clover and Azalea, and then he quietly withdrew. Regina breathed a sigh of relief as he left; funny, how she was no longer able to breathe around him.
Clover and Azalea took one look at their young mistress, and then exchanged a long glance. Clover quietly locked the bedroom door and rushed to draw a hot bath while Azalea guided Regina to sit down, kneeling before her to remove her boots. No one spoke a word; Regina stared into space while Clover concentrated on the bath salts and Azalea hummed a gentle tune beneath her breath.
"Come on, lamb," Azalea said softly, gently urging Regina to stand. "Let's get you out of these heavy things and into the tub."
Regina shivered slightly as Azalea removed her heavy coat, and Clover bounced over to stoke up the fire. They moved quickly to undress Regina and remove her bandages, seeing how close Regina was to crying. As soon as she was undressed, Azalea guided Regina to the tub, helping her ease herself into the hot water. Regina curled into a small ball, whimpering softly as the first ugly colors leached out of her and into the bath water.
"Hush, precious," Azalea soothed her, stroking her hair. "Don't fight it; just let it all out into the water. You're not in a rush to be anywhere."
At that, Regina broke down in tears, burying her face in her knees as the leaching of her emotions increased. Clover and Azalea quietly retreated, leaving Regina to soak in her tub.
"I'll keep an eye on her," Azalea said in a near-whisper, shutting the door behind them. "You go fetch Isabeau. I think she needs a Healer."
Clover nodded, hurrying out of Regina's suite in search of Isabeau, the Clubs' Royal Healer. When she got downstairs, though, she stopped short at the sight in Lord Hightopp's sitting room.
The Sapphire King was sitting with two other men and a woman, deep in discussion. Clover knew the leonine Duke of Tenniel by sight; they'd never been introduced, but Clover was aware that he was Regina's regent in Crims. The third man was a mystery. He was tall and thin, with messy brown hair and large, inquisitive brown eyes shielded by rectangular black spectacles. His face wasn't conventionally handsome, but it was compelling; long nose, determined jaw, and thin lips. He was strangely dressed, in brown pinstripe trousers and a matching jacket, with a dark blue shirt underneath and a brown tie with blue swirls. The woman was likewise unfamiliar; she was also tall, and garbed in tight-fitting trousers, a loose tunic, and a floor-length brown trench coat. Her red hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her green eyes kept flicking back and forth between the three men as if she thought them all to be idiots.
"Ah, Clover, just the person we needed to see," Tarrant said, rising from his armchair.
"M'Lord," Clover said, bobbing a quick curtsey. "I'm sorry; I was just in search of Madam Isabeau."
Tarrant frowned, taking a step forward. "Is Regina alright?"
"Oh, her side's just fine, sire," Clover said quickly. "It's her emotions that need tending."
"Ah. Looks like we got here just in time, then," the man in brown said, smiling faintly.
"Clover, this is the Doctor," the Duke of Tenniel rumbled. "He's to be Regina's physician, once she's been crowned. And this is Noble, his… companion."
"Oi, not like that," Noble rushed to say, holding up her hands in defense. "I just keep 'im outta trouble."
"Well, she tries," the Doctor amended, with a disarming grin. "So Regina's ill, then?"
"Um, yes," Clover said, uncertain of this new doctor.
"The Duke and the King were just telling us about the Outlands," the Doctor said, standing and rubbing his hands together. "I'll just get right to work then, shall I? Clover, wasn't it?" he addressed her. "Lead the way upstairs."
Still not entirely certain of this new development, Clover nonetheless turned and led the Doctor and Noble up the stairs and through the hallways to Regina's suite. She would have preferred Madam Isabeau to these strangers, honestly, but if they were going to ease Regina's grief then she'd be grateful.
"Azalea?" Clover called as she opened the door.
"Did you find Isabeau?" Azalea asked, walking out from the bedroom and stopping short when she saw the new people.
"Not exactly," Clover said apologetically.
"Allo there!" the Doctor said, walking forward with a smile. "I'm the Doctor, this is Noble. We're the new Royal Physician."
"I… see," Azalea said doubtfully. "I'm afraid her Highness is in the bath at the moment."
"Oh, that's alright, I don't mind," the Doctor said, walking right past a flabbergasted Azalea for the bathroom.
As soon as he walked through the bathroom door, his demeanor changed, his customary joviality and sense of fun giving way to compassion as he saw the figure in the tub. She was in a bad way, he could tell just from her bathwater; it had been a long time since he'd seen someone leaching emotions so strongly. He smiled at her gently as she gasped and tried to shield herself with her hands; it wouldn't do to put her in even further distress. He glanced behind him to his companion, raising his eyebrows; she nodded in silent understanding and withdrew, shutting the door behind her.
"It's alright, Regina," he said gently, slowly walking forward. "I'm the Doctor."
"I'm sorry, Doctor who?" Regina asked, shrinking away from him.
His smile broadened slightly, and he shook his head. "Just the Doctor. I graduated from the medical university across the Sea in Jumphasor. Once you graduate, you give up your birth name and become simply a Doctor."
"I see," Regina murmured. "Um… it's very nice to meet you, Doctor. But what are you doing in my bathroom?"
"Doctoring," he answered, looking over the collection of bath salts, soaps and bottles of supplies gathered next to her tub. "I was talking with your father downstairs. He explained you've had a rough week."
A weak, shaky laugh escaped her. "You could say that, yes."
"Well," he said, folding his arms on the edge of the bathtub and resting his chin on them, "why don't you tell me all about it."
Regina raised her eyebrows. "While I'm sitting naked in a tub?"
"Well, I need to see what emotions you're feeling, don't I?" the Doctor asked. "Besides, it's comfy in here, innit? Someplace safe, where you don't need to put on a front."
Regina stared at him, this man with such old, old eyes staring out of his young face. She should have been wary of him; he was a stranger, after all, and he had just barged into her bathroom with no pretense or 'by your leave'. And yet, she found herself relaxing ever so slightly. There was something in his ancient-seeming eyes that instinctively made her trust him.
"I know you've only just met me, Regina, but I promise, I am here to help you," he said softly, the utmost care and compassion in his voice. "And to help you, I need to know what's happened to you. Will you trust me enough to tell me?"
She looked deep into his chocolate eyes. She hadn't told the story yet, she realized with a vague start. She hadn't actually told anyone, from start to finish, what had happened in the Outlands. Everyone knew pieces of the story- that she had been kidnapped, that she had escaped, that she was safe- but she hadn't told anyone the entire story. She'd told no one about the all-consuming fear, about Taran, about the specifics of her escape, about what exactly she'd done on the battlefield and what had happened between her and Dafydd. Maybe it would be a relief to tell someone, to share the burden.
Drawing a deep breath, she nodded slowly. "Alright."
The Doctor emerged from Regina's bathroom roughly an hour later. Closing the door behind him, he looked around the sitting room where Clover, Azalea, and Noble all sat, and clapped his hands, grinning as he startled them out of their stupor.
"Well now!" he said enthusiastically. "We have a Princess to take care of. Azalea, I think Regina's going to want her supper in here tonight. Clover, I'd like you to hunt down Dafydd."
The Doctor waited until the maids had left before he glanced at Noble, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets.
"Well?" Noble asked, folding her arms.
"I like her," the Doctor nodded, grinning. "I think we're gonna have a lot of fun in Crims."
"I'm glad to hear it," Noble said, rolling her eyes indulgently.
"D'you have my bag?" the Doctor asked, walking forward.
"Which one? The one with the medicines or the one with all your bloody rocks?" Noble deadpanned.
"The medicines, of course. The rocks wouldn't do much good at all, not with emotional imbalance," the Doctor scoffed. "Weeeeell, maybe the selenacious might help a bit, but honestly that would probably just induce her Madness, and we should probably let that alone."
"Brilliant conclusion. Did you come up with that all on your own?" Noble asked.
She hauled herself out of her armchair and walked over to the collection of bags she had brought upstairs while she waited on the Doctor. Humming to herself in approval, she handed a brown leather bag to him, rocking back on her heels to watch as he set the bag on the table and opened it, enthusiastically rummaging through it.
"So she's imbalanced?" Noble asked curiously.
"Oh, of course," the Doctor said absently, peering at a small bottle of blue liquid before shaking his head and replacing it. "After everything she went through I'd be afraid if she wasn't a bit unbalanced. Nothing that can't be corrected, though, if we give her the right combination," he added. "Definitely some Calm, poor girl needs it. Maybe some Peace, enough to help her quiet down. Have we got any Serenity left?"
"You used the last of it on that Flower girl in Marmoreal," Noble replied.
"Oh, yes," the Doctor said, sobering in remembrance. "Rose. I alerted the King to what the Count did, you know."
"Of course you did," Noble said, completely unsurprised. "I did, too. No girl should have to go through what she did with that odious man."
"He should be out of the castle by now, stripped of his title and his lands," the Doctor mused, a darkly happy look on his face. "He deserved worse."
"What about Rose?" Noble asked. "What'll happen to her?"
"The King assured me she'd be cared for," the Doctor said. "I guess that's the best we can hope for. Anyways, about Regina."
"Right. Yes," Noble said, shaking her head to clear it of worry for the Flower and get back on track. "So Peace and Calm. Shall we put it in her tea?"
"Noooo," the Doctor drawled. "You can't mix Teas with teas, remember? Too much chance of an overdose, or the Tea will react against the tea and leave the patient in a worse state than before. She needs to take it with food. Pity she probably won't have much of an appetite for the next few days," the Doctor said. "I'm hoping her Champion can get her to eat a little something."
"He's the one that did this to her in the first place, isn't he?" Noble asked, thinking back to the conversation they'd been having with the King of Clubs.
"He did some of it," the Doctor acknowledged. "But the King seems to think that he's also the most likely one Regina will accept help from."
"Fair enough," Noble shrugged. "I'll go sort us out some rooms then, while you're Doctoring."
With that, she stood, heading out the door just as Clover returned with a man whom Noble could only assume was the Princess' Champion. She raised her eyebrows as she watched him go in; he wasn't a bad-looking one at all. Pity he was apparently such an idiot…
Dafydd narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the tall, thin man who stood beside the empty dining table, regarding him with a detached curiosity.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm the Doctor," the man replied. "Regina's Royal Physician. The Duke of Tenniel brought me here to look after her while she recovers."
Dafydd relaxed slightly at that statement. Leferidae was almost as protective of Regina as Dafydd was; the Lion wouldn't have brought anyone near Regina unless he trusted them.
"I could use your help, actually," the Doctor continued, waving him forward. "I'm going to give Regina some medicine to keep her calm while she's healing. They're called Emotion Teas," he said, holding up a vial marked Calm. "They elicit emotional responses from the patient."
"So this one will make her calm?" Dafydd asked.
"Exactly," the Doctor nodded. "Depending on the dose, and the tolerance level of the patient, the effects will last anywhere between a few hours and a day or two. If we keep Regina on a low dosage of Calm, maybe with some Peace mixed in, it will help her body focus and heal itself, not to mention process everything that's happened."
"It's clever," Dafydd commented, watching as the Doctor mixed a dose.
"I know," the Doctor nodded. "Teas like this are quite commonplace across the Sea, but they don't seem to be used here."
"My tribe had something like these, in the Outlands," Dafydd commented, glancing at the wide variety of bottles in the Doctor's bag. "They could be addictive."
"Yes, they can be," the Doctor admitted. "But only if they're taken without proper supervision and mixing. I'll mix each dose for Regina personally. She'll be perfectly safe."
"So what do you need from me?" Dafydd asked.
"You need to make sure she eats," the Doctor replied. "Given her emotional upheaval, the last thing she'll be thinking of is food. But the Teas are more volatile on an empty stomach, so we want to give her her doses with food. I also need you to just be there. Just sit with her. She doesn't need to be forced to talk about what she went through out there; matter of fact, I suggest not bringing it up at all, if you can help it. Not yet. But she needs some kind of grounding presence, and I think that's what you are to her."
Dafydd winced, looking away. Perhaps that's what he had been, Before. But now? Would Regina allow him that close? He had broken her trust in him; could he still be such a grounding presence and agent of calm? He rather doubted it.
The Doctor, seemingly sensing Dafydd's mood, closed his bag, handing Dafydd a small vial with a small amount of pastel blue liquid inside.
"She should pour this into a goblet of water. Don't let her take it with the other kind of tea," he said. "I'll be in to check on her in the morning."
Dafydd nodded silently, watching as the Doctor left. He glanced around the sitting room, sighing; he could hear Regina in the bathroom beyond, in the tub apparently. Deciding to leave her there for now, he grabbed the dining table and started dragging it towards the French doors that led to her small balcony. It was too cold outside to eat on the balcony, but they could at least eat near the doors, which let in the moonlight.
By the time he'd gotten the table and chairs set up, the kitchen servants had arrived with trays for supper. Dafydd waited while they set everything down, then nodded gratefully at Azalea as she shooed them all out. He sank into one of the two armchairs, sighing deeply in exhaustion as he waited for Regina to emerge from the bathroom.
He looked up as the door opened, and Regina emerged. Her riotous red-gold curls had been pulled back into a long braid that fell down her back. She wore a delicate, gauzy light blue nightgown that fell to her feet, the skirt fluttering with every step she took. The cap sleeves really did nothing to keep Regina warm; in fact, the entire gown was more suited to hot summer nights than to the chill of the winter evening. So Clover had draped Regina in a large, warm shawl of a deeper blue, and shod her feet in fur slippers.
For a moment, they didn't speak; they merely looked at each other, reading each others' thoughts through their faces and eyes. Silently, she shook her head, looking down.
"You have to eat, Regina," Dafydd said softly.
"I'm not hungry," she mumbled.
"A few bites," he coaxed her.
She could have refused, but they both knew that he could easily pick her up and put her in a seat. So she reluctantly acquiesced, sinking into the armchair opposite him. She picked listlessly at the squimberries, roasted flamingo, and Tumtum nut bread, but he coaxed her to eat a little of everything, and to dutifully take the medicine the Doctor had left for her. When she heard a bottle being uncorked, she glanced up, eyebrows raising to see Dafydd pouring out a large goblet of potent dandelion wine.
"I'm not sure my da would thank you for this," she commented, accepting the glass.
"Probably not," Dafydd agreed quietly. "But I'm not his Champion, I'm yours. And if I perceive that my Queen needs an escape from her thoughts, I'm honor-bound to provide her with one."
A soft, pathetic smile tugged at her lips. "I'll toast to that."
Dafydd frowned in confusion. "You want toast?"
"No," she said, a weak almost-laugh leaving her. "It's an Uplandish custom. We both raise our glasses, clink them together, and then drink in honor of what was said."
"Oh. Then why not call it an Honoring? Why Toast?" Dafydd asked, as they clinked goblets.
Regina shrugged. "Because it's the Aboveground. They're mad up there, you know."
They finished their meal in silence. Then, in unspoken accord, Dafydd pushed the table out of the way so they could turn their armchairs and look out the windows into the night sky. Regina sank into one armchair, curling up like a kitten and nursing her goblet, while Dafydd sat beside her, head tilted back to stare up at the sky.
Neither of them spoke, or even moved really, except to refill their glasses. The wine was mercifully strong; Regina found the world going fuzzy and unfocused, and all of her thoughts were muted, slowly being blotted out by the dull roar of the wine. It was a comforting, wonderful carelessness, and she clung to it, drinking often enough to prolong the lovely apathy. They continued drinking in silent camaraderie as twilight deepened into true night, and the stars came out to dance across the sky.
"I'm going to take the White Vow," Regina announced softly, staring up at the brilliant night sky.
She had made her decision after talking to the Doctor. She might be a Champion Begat of Champions, but she wasn't Alice or Tarrant. Killing was not her path. She was not a warrior, and to pretend she was was foolishness. She never wanted to stand on a field of combat again; she never again wanted to feel a blade in her hands, never wanted to see her palms stained red with an enemy's blood.
The Vow would place increased pressure on Dafydd, she knew. Every ruling Queen had a Champion as a matter of course, but in the case of a Queen who had renounced violence, a Champion was absolutely essential. If Regina forsook violence, it would mean that she would be defenseless in the case of attack, unable to lift a hand in her own defense. It would fall entirely upon Dafydd's shoulders to safeguard her; he would never be allowed to relax his vigilance over her. Perhaps it was unfair of her to take such a Vow; to do so would mean forfeiting Dafydd's ability to have a normal life. He would never be able to be away from her; even if he should marry and have a family of his own, their needs would always come secondary to her own.
"I realize that to do so would place more burdens on you," she said, keeping her gaze on the stars instead of him. "You would always have to be beside me, always guarding me. You would never have a life of your own; everything you are would be at my disposal. It… it's not what you agreed to, when I asked you to be my Champion. And you've made me no formal Vows. If you don't want to take on the responsibilities you would need to, to champion a White Queen… I understand. I would release you."
The words left her reluctantly. It was an important question, though, one which needed to be asked. Dafydd had rejected her once already, even though Madness had driven him to it. If she accepted him back, he deserved to know what he would be dealing with. Because once he made that Vow, that was it; there was no going back. He deserved a chance to back out, if this life wasn't what he truly wanted.
The quiet remained after she made her statement. It wasn't a pregnant silence, filled with emotion and tension; it was simply quiet. Regina kept her gaze on the sky, afraid to turn and see the expression on Dafydd's face. But a moment later, he'd taken her hand, using his free hand to gently turn her head so their gazes locked.
"I'm yours, Regina," he reminded her. "I'm not going to walk away. If you want to take the White Vow, I'll be there to protect you. Always."
She stared into his dark blue eyes, reading his sincerity. She knew he meant what he said; he never spoke if he didn't intend to stand by his words. She tightened her fingers around his, nodding silently and blinking back grateful tears. Her faith in him had been sorely tested, and her trust in him was still shaky. But he was going to stay; he would protect her. There was time to build their trust back up. She would bind herself under the White Vow, and he would protect her. And perhaps someday, they would be able to forgive themselves for everything they had done to get to this point.
He lifted her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her fingers, and they sat that way for the rest of the night, hands joined, silently watching the stars dance themselves into morning's light.
Disclaimers: The de-Aging sequence is inspired by King Theoden's healing in The Two Towers.
Also, while the Doctor and Noble are pretty much just straight-up Doctor Ten and Donna from Doctor Who, this has not suddenly become a crossover fic. There is no TARDIS, no sonic screwdriver, and no Daleks, Cybermen, or Weeping Angels. I was just in need of a doctor character, and my brain took that and ran with it.