The Fourteenth

He could feel her coming and coming soon. He reached down to take a long drink out of the black goblet that sat by his side. His clothing was torn and in disarray, the blood spread upon his trousers and shirt had long since dried and gave off a coppery stench. He looked around, taking in the litter of bodies. Animals, stupid little things, that had been dumb enough to wander near. Most of them had been creatures that had heeded the darkness' call, thinking they would find some kinship with him. Their bodies were all around; crows mostly (ravens were to clever to come nearer after they had seen what he had done to their brother) a few stray wolves, some dogs, lizards whoever really was stupid enough to draw near. He knew what they were doing, that they were flocking to him for a reason. The Jabberwocky had not been a total recluse, and they had formed something of a friendship, especially since the massacre of the Hightopp clan. There, in the aftermath of their combined bloodlust, the Jabberwocky had confessed that the dark powers within him grew the more he gave into them. The madness that had been caused there that day was feeding him, swelling within him and increasing his power bit by bit. The monster had described pure pleasure, a power so enthralling that Stayne had decided right there and then he must have it for his own. He had known that the death of the Jabberwocky was an opportunity, he had recognized even then that Alice possessed a power that would do well at his side and he knew that it was only a matter of time until it broke free once more. However, being bound to Iracebeth as punishment had not been expected and it had lengthened his overall plan by years. He chuckled; that in and of itself had proven to be an advantage. The boy had played his part all too well and even now Stayne could see the power of his mother welling inside the child. At first he had only seen the Hightopp clan in those round green eyes, accusing him of all the horrors they had endured at his hands. He had seen the Hatter's madness echoing through his offspring and the thought of Alice, his Alice, arching beneath the vile mad man. Well, it had been enough to set him in a bad mood and the local inhabitants of the Outlands had learnt how dangerous that could be.

He was still quite intrigued with the boy and saddened that stupid Iracebeth had grown so close to the little bastard. He could have played the child's father for sometime more and now all the boy was good for was bait for his mother. He grinned to himself and took another drink at the thought of Alice.

The darkness that was gathering within him, granting him this added boost of power was also in her. He could feel it pull towards her, two sides of a magnet calling out to one another and drawing their opposite in. They would be attracted to one another and if she had not been headed towards him at such a fast pace he would have been forced to move towards her. He was well aware she would find him, he had frightened the child enough that the boy was a veritable lighthouse of negative emotions: terror, fear, self loathing. He had done what he could to force the child into the belief that everything that had happened, all of it, was all his fault. Children were so gullible, it was a pity he would probably have to father one on Alice if he killed Charlie. He shook his head, letting his inky hair fall into his eyes. He had thought the idea of offspring somewhat intriguing initially and then, after spending a few days in the presence of a child his entire view point had changed. They were small annoying and overly energetic. The only children who had ever really been prevalent in Wonderland were the Hightopps. Those mad creatures had been little more then vermin in his opinion, whelping children the way stray dogs would. When he had first seen their little village on the Horenvendush day he had been absolutely disgusted. All those smiling creatures and their tiny little miniatures, some parents with three or more at a time. Such a waste and the stupid White Queen revelling in it. He had laughed at the Jabberwocky raining fire upon them and when it was finished he went through the remains and delivered the death strokes himself. Those pathetic little creatures crying, the mothers in their top hats begging for mercy in the name of whatever gods they believed in. The father's attacking him, swearing in their barbaric language and he had laughed as he had hacked them down.

How glad he was when he had seen the Hatter had survived, one survivor to carry on the grief. Creatures in Underland were a great deal more fragile then Abovegrounders; he wondered what it would take to drive his Alice mad. She would be stunning as a lunatic, he was certain of that. He would ensure she kept herself neat and clean but other then that, to see pain echoing in those eyes, to see the darkness that was encroaching on her so rapidly take her over, oh it would be perfect. He wondered why she was fighting it so badly. He could feel it in his own soul, hell the only reason he was able to place a foot hold in that power was that she didn't wholly want it. The things inside her, love and morals and responsibility, held her down. He wanted to laugh at it. It would be perfect to take her and use her, she would go mad with the dark power within in (there was no way her feeble mind would be able to control it) and he would revel in that. She would be his battery, his beautiful power source of a Queen and he would wield her power with the absolute authority a king deserved.

He wondered if that had occurred to Iracebeth or her pathetic sister yet.

He had spent years studying Underlaw at his father's insistence and he knew the search for loopholes to be an exhaustive one. In the end he had found one that had always struck him, not because of its relevance but just because it had been so close to what he had needed. If a soldier of a Queen, Red or White, were to cross from one side of Underland to the other they would be elevated to the rank of their choosing. Pawn to Queen by crossing a board. He had screamed in frustration at that law, simply because he was a man and had no desire to be a QUEEN however if he were to make his Alice one and then force her to wed him he could become a King. Endgame. It was an old law, one that had been written and resulted in thousands of Queen roaming the land. Of course the practice had gone out of style, if everyone was a Queen then really no one was and there was no point in being a Queen without a kingdom. Still, he bet Alice had no idea of the rule and he was aware (all too aware) Underland would recognize her for what she was. Then again Underland had been doing that a lot lately.

He thought of Alice, dressed in robes of pure darkness upon a granite throne with him at her side. It would be perfect. Absolutely perfect. Of course he would have to kill the boy and soon. He sneered. Killing children was nowhere near as fun as adults and no matter how hard he had tried he had not amassed the amount of power needed to do it. Underland had long ago safeguarded children for one reason or another and because of it there was no way he could bring his knife down upon the child. As a matter of fact the only creature he had seen successfully murder a child was the Jabberwocky himself. He had tried to harm the child but it had been useless, even withholding food did not seem to be working on the boy. Then again the boy seemed to have inherited his mother's penchant for making loyal friends, within a days of being in his presence Iracebeth was already willing to give up her own life to protect the child. Of course it might have had more to do with his own penchant for beating her but he could hardly be blamed for that. After all, it was her fault they were in this mess. Had she simply just executed her sister when she took power initially this would all be over. He had been more then willing to go all the way to Marmoreal and take care of business before little Alice had the chance to grow up. If Iracebeth had thought of the future of the kingdom then they would have been in a much better position currently. He would have assassinated her long ago and he wouldn't have to worry about this whole, making a 'Queen Alice' business. That was the problem with Iracebeth, she was selfish, she had no regard for how he felt or his own ambitions.

Alice would be different, that he was certain of it. She would not cower in a cabin, thinking over all the mistakes she had made. She would not turn into a snivelling whining shadow of her former self. At least he had been able to respect Iracebeth at some point when she was the Red Queen, now she was no more a Queen then he was. She was a commoner. No, it was Alice who would be a true Queen of Underland, it was Alice through whom he would change the world.

He pushed himself to his feet, kicking the dead body of a dark brown rabbit out of the way. The creature had screamed when he had gutted her and he looked down at his bloody hands, he really should wash it off but it looked so good upon his fingers he decided to leave it. Animals had wisely started giving him a greater berth. At first he they had flocked to him, desperate to be a part of his court. Now they knew better. He was sure the black madness would lessen when Alice got there. The only part of it he felt troubled about was the memory loss, when he did give into the emotions he would black out and then wake with bodies littering the ground and blood everywhere. Oh how he wanted to remember those moments and revel in them. To celebrate the dark gift the Jabberwocky had given him.

He pushed himself to his feet and stalked towards the dilapidated wooden cabin upon the horizon. If Alice was coming he should clean up the place. He wasn't sure how or when the obsession with the blonde haired woman had become all consuming or when she had stopped being Um in his mind and started being Alice again. He didn't wonder why, merely accepted the situation for what it was. Um was sweet and innocent and easily plucked, Alice, oh Alice was much different. He pictured Um in his mind in a dress, her large body pressed against his. Alice's body was average but her spirit was not, she would fight him like a hellcat. She would scratch and bit and claw and scream with what he would do to her. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Throwing open the ill fitting door he stepped into the almost sideways house, looking about. There in the corner, cowering in their place, were his prisoners. Iracebeth did look worse for wear, the peasant life had never suited her. At this point her red hair fell loose around her face like a bloody veil and she looked at him with dark, accusing, tear stained eyes. Her grinned at her and she pulled back, almost as if she were scared of his very appearance; he liked it. The strangest thing was he had never been so intent on physical violence before but ever since he had taken the child from the Above his bloodlust had grown exponentially until he could barely contain it.

He stormed towards Iracebeth and she pressed her back more fully against the wall. She seemed rather energetic for someone who had not eaten and enclosed in her arms the child cowered, those green eyes staring up at him, accusing him. A surge of anger rode through him so ferociously that he screamed at the top of his lungs, digging his bloody hands into his hair and spasming painfully. He could feel his nails cut into his scalp even as some hair came out and blood ran down the sides of his head. Without thought he reached for the child, his anger ignited further when Iracebeth turned to block his hands.

"A perfect pair," he snarled at her, "A bastard and whore. Tell me my Queen at what point in this did you realize that I don't love you, that I never loved you."

He could see the pain in her eyes and marvelled that no matter how many times he told her those words they never seemed to take root, each time he screamed them at her the wound was fresh.

"I used you." he continued, circling her like a predator "I told you lies, concocted stories and you believed me, like a fool you believed me. You will your king, your subjects and even set off your sister. How does it feel to know that when I kill you no one in this world will mourn your passing, no one will shed a tear?"

She seemed to curl in around the child, clutching him to her so tightly, so tenderly that he was utterly disgusted by it.

"I see," Stayne whispered dangerously, "You love this little thing do you. Are you so desperate for company that you'd die for this ugly, horrid little mistake? Look at him. Tell me boy do you know that the woman who is protecting you so dearly killed your father's people. She ordered their murder. Dozens of them, children just like you, women just like your mother all dead because she wished them to be so. Tell me boy, what do you think of her now?"

The child didn't react, he just stared at them with those strange glowing eyes. Those eyes he hated so much. Overcome with the desire to pull the eyes from the boys sockets he lunged towards them, startled when Iracebeth moved quickly. She ran towards the window and even as he drew his blade she pushed the boy through the empty pane and began to follow. He moved swiftly, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her backwards to him while she tried to gain purchase upon the sill. The glint of steel shone brightly as he shoved it into her side, noting that she did not scream but rather gasped at the unexpected intrusion. Pulling the blade out he waited to watch her drop to the ground but she surprised him, instead of collapsing she turned on him and kicked him with a rather incredible force directly in the groin. He felt pain explode in his lower belly and he dropped to his knees with a painful cry. Through the haze of his pain he could see her moving through the window, albeit slower, but still moving nonetheless. Outside he could hear the boy's cries and the sounds of horses? Even as the pain echoed through him he smiled, a hunt was much needed, he could enjoy a hunt. It would take up time while he waited for Alice to arrive and oh what a prize he would have for his bride when she finally joined him here in the Outlands. Reaching for his now blood stained blade he brought the thick red syrup to his mouth and let his tongue run along the side. She was wounded and with a child, he grinned, his prey would not be getting far.

***

"What do you mean she's gone?" the Gryphon asked slowly, in his black eyes there was a promise of danger, as if Alice's escape was an affront to him.

Since the news the Gryphon had changed his form, morphing from a mythical deity to a rather handsome man. Before her a creature with golden bathed skin, long white hair and black eyes glared down at the Hatter, his gaze just as piercing as it had been in his more animalistic form.

Mirana held the Hatter in her arms as she would a child, something in him had been stirred and the greenish hue of his eyes and the innocent lisp of his voice indicated that he did not see the need for violence and was in a rather precarious state of panic. Even against a creature like the Gryphon (one she was lesser then,)she felt the protective instinct come over her. Gently she placed herself between Tarrant and the golden hued man, turning her back to the latter so she might face the former.

"Hatter, what has happened?" she asked as gently as she could, she noted he was not wearing his hat.

"Alice," he stated, stuttering slightly, "She woke up."

Mirana nodded as Absolem made an impatient huff. All the others were watching them intently, not really sure on how to handle the Tarrant situation, as per usual they were leaving it to her jurisdiction.

"Alright and then what happened?" she continued patiently, holding her hands upon his shoulders.

She watched a struggle take place in his mind, as if he were wrestling reality into his understand before he looked up at her with a darker set of eyes.

"The lass kissed me," he gave a throaty chuckle and a dark smile "Clever little thing to, broke the rules she did. She preyed upon me while I slept."

Suddenly his eyes switched back the amber colour lust fading to green worry within seconds, "Do you know why a Raven is like a writing desk you majesty? Alice knows someone who does."

"You let her touch you?" The Gryphon roared, grabbing Tarrant around the shoulder and brutally turning him around.

Within seconds he cried, pulling back when the red haired Hatter jabbed a hat pin through his hand. Golden coloured blood seemed to seep from the wound for only a moment before returning to his body and healing instantly.

"I did no such thing," the Hatter replied conversationally, as if he hadn't just stabbed the White Lord of Underland, "I did not let her do anything. She was upon me while I slept. I woke and she was there. Although perhaps she is still in her room, this Alice seemed like she might be a dream. My Alice wears blue and this one was terribly black. Delightful shade, black is, so much to work with."

The Gryphon, who had recovered enough to be annoyed again, moved closely to him.

"What did she say?" he asked, his concern for the situation apparent, "Was she odd to you? How did she touch you?"

"She kissed me." the Hatter replied as if he were confused with the whole idea of it, "I told her not to but the lady was adamant. If you had wanted her not to do that I believe you should have told her the rules as well sir, it was rather irresponsible that you would expect me to tell her."

The Gryphon seemed shocked at that and took a step back, "I was a fool for letting you alone with her. Where did she go?"

Tarrant seemed to think on this for a moment before a smile came to his face. Mirana watched as she opened the side of his coat and seemed to rummage for a moment before passing over a small black case to the Gryphon.

"She dropped this," he stated simply.

She gilded closer to the object along with Tarrant, Absolem, Fairhaven and everyone else in the room, desperate to see what it was even as the Gryphon opened it. His tanned hands ran over the stained outer shell and she marvelled as the blackness on the case seemed to recede, disappearing from it's surface and leaving the thing clean to the touch. He ignored the strange reaction and opened the case slowly, to reveal a portrait.

It was black and white picture of a woman wearing a rather strange set of robes with her hair drawn back and her soft eyes gazing down at a creature within her arms. The words were written in nice cursive, Alice Charlotte Kingsley and Charles Tarrant Kingsley. As her eyes moved from the familiar figure to the unfamiliar one she nearly gasped at the child's physical appearance. If the name had not given away his paternity then surely his looks did. Her eyes slid to the Hatter who had now commandeered prime viewing position of the portrait and reached to take it form the Gryphon's grasp. No longer interested the latter gave it up without a fight, placing it between the Hatter's red stained fingers. Tarrant's face gave no indication of his thoughts, the only clue to his reaction was that he moved slightly in place, holding the thing so tightly that his hands shook with the pressure. The child upon his mother's lap was eerily familiar, his hair was cut short but it clutched to his head in tight curls. The lips were from his mother, she could see that but the rest of the face was a smaller version of the man standing next to her. Despite the picture being black and white she had no doubt the child's hair was a vibrant shade of orange and that his playful innocent eyes were most likely green, it seemed unnatural for his colouring to be anything but. In the picture he smiled happily, returning his mother's adoration in equal measure. It was a nice image, intimate and full of love.

Next to her Absolem mulled, "He does take after his father in looks."

"F-father?" Tarrant managed to stammer out, "F-f-father?"

"Good Lord, he does look quite a bit like you old man," Fairhaven exclaimed rather obliviously, slapping the Hatter on the back "No wonder Stayne was after the child. The Knave hates you does he not?"

The portrait dropped from his stained hands, falling against the marble floors. Mirana watched as the glass shattered at her friend's feet. He stood stock still, as if he were completely unsure of his own hands and body, looking around he turned to the Gryphon, the red colour in his eyes screaming violence.

"What trickery is this?" he snarled, his accent so thick the words were barely recognizable, "Lies, lies... Is that what you think? That you can fool me? My Alice is gone, gone away never to return me and you show me this other Alice and this child? Snivelling, lying horrid... "

"Hatter!" the White Queen snapped.

He stopped, dropping to his knees now, his hands reaching out for the picture. He was careful enough not to cut himself as he fished it from the glassy prison. She watched as he looked at it closely, as if searching it for lies, as if the picture itself was a warning. She moved over, as Chess drifted closer to Tarrant, his playful eyes rolling around the man.

"He looks like me don't you think?" the Hatter whispered softly as a smile crept across his lips, he ran hands along the picture, "What's he like?"

"Like a little boy." replied the Cat smoothly, "Adventurous, fearless, he tells wonderful stories. He's scared of the dark and strange and very much like his mother in many ways."

The Hatter seemed to smile a the statement, pulling the picture to himself, "Does Alice love him? Is she fond of him?"

"His mother loves him, absolutely," the Cat continued, "She would give her life to protect him."

"I am sure she would" The Gryphon snarled in annoyance, "And if I cannot stop her before she confronts the Knave she will."

All eyes turned to him as he began moving towards the door, his gaze focussed on the group before him, on Tarrant in particular.

"How is she getting there?" he asked, "Last time I checked the Lady did not have wings."

"She made a raven," the Hatter replied with a smile, "Straight out of the air, threw it and there it was."

Mirana sighed, this was going to be a long conversation and she was certain Gryphon would lose patience with the Hatter. He didn't seem to be a patient creature to begin with. However he surprised her. His eyes closed and there was suddenly a blinding white light. Shielding her eyes she looked to where he had been standing and now instead of a man the large Gryphon was before her. He flexed his body, stretching his huge form. He fixed his eyes upon her sharply before cocking his head to the side.

"White Queen, if you would please retrieve the vorpal blade. White Knight I expect you to be my champion in this matter." he stated authoritatively.

They both rushed to fulfill his demands.

"What of Alice?" the Hatter asked suddenly, his eyes wide with concern.

"If we can go I might be able to arrive at the Outlands before she does. If she can already create creatures as you have claimed she has then she is adjusting to her power a great deal faster then expected. Abovelanders are known for being adaptive but I never anticipated to this degree. I am hoping that creating the raven has taxed her energy enough that we might catch up with her before she confronts the knave."

"Didn't you say she had power?" Chess asked casually, lolling around the Gryphon's head.

"Yes she does, she has a great deal of it. Too much in fact and she has methods by which to control it," he replied hotly, "So unless you wish the next time you see Lady Alice is at her funeral then I suggest you climb upon my back and we go."

Mirana did not hesitate. Within a second she was at the Gryphon's side and letting Fairhaven ease her upon his back. The knight climbed upon behind her.

"Well get on me you lunatic," the Gryphon snapped, turning his gaze to Tarrant.

The Hatter was still clutching the picture to his chest., his eyes looking up at the White Lord with such confusion she pitied him.

"I cannot go without you. You have a connection to both Alice and the child. The power she is expending is no longer in her body and she's going into a nest of Dark energy. I cannot sense her." he snapped, "Now get on my back or be responsible for whatever the hell happens to her."

He didn't need to be told a third time and within a second he had stumbled onto the large creatures back and they were off.