Alice returns to Underland by means of a tragedy and chooses to stay. This is the story of the friend, the lover, the wife, the mother and the Champion she becomes there. NOW COMPLETE All 5 books of this series have been posted together here.
Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Adventure - Alice K., Mad Hatter/Tarrant Hightopp - Chapters: 189 - Words: 489,533 - Reviews: 736 - Favs: 930 - Follows: 311 - Updated: 4/26/2011 - Published: 5/20/2010 - Status: Complete - id: 5984532
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Chapter Seven: Release [Scene 4 of 4]
"What's taking so long?" Nivens mutters, rubbing his paws so fast Tarrant might have wondered if the obsessive creature might just spontaneously combust if Tarrant's own attention weren't completely focused on the combatants on the battlefield and his own impatience weren't focused on a certain shape-shifting ally.
Tarrant keeps up a continuous heart line message to her – Your promise! Fight and win, Alice! – and does his best not to flinch with each expertly executed attack by that wretched, Alice-lusting guddler's scut. Although even he can see that Avenleif is not even attempting to tire her, Alice counters with a ferocity Tarrant has never seen in her before. Not even when she'd fought that equally wretched, Alice-groping slackush scrum. Her broadsword – borrowed, he notices, and far longer and heavier than the one the queen had had made for her – slices through the air with frightening precision and force. Each thrust and slash a potential fatal blow. But despite that, the lion keeps his word and draws the fight out, stays out of her way, stretches Time...
"Oh...!" Nivens pulls at his long, white ears before consulting his pocket watch. "How long does it take to shape-shift a bloody paw?"
Alice advances again and again Avenleif sidesteps. Waits.
A quick glance at King Aven assures Tarrant that the deception has been noticed. The king looks furious, but manages to stand tall and contained. On the other side of the field, Valereth and – Tarrant swallows back his burning fury – Oshtyer are unashamedly grinning from ear-to-ear. No, they hadn't counted on Aven's Champion having an aversion to killing Alice, but the bastards aren't about to complain!
And just when Tarrant thinks he can take no more – just when he's sure the next clash of metal is going to shatter him like the bay window above Mirana's study – he hears a voice call out very clearly:
"I, Jaspien of Causwick Callion, do hereby release—"
Valereth hisses, gesturing furiously to the mercenaries nearest the prince. They startle and move toward him, but then, inexplicably, trip and fall to the ground before reaching him.
"—Alice Kingsleigh from my service from this moment hence forth!"
Oshtyer swears, then raises his voice and shouts, "Alice! Fight, Alice! Kill him!"
Tarrant turns back to the battle, expecting Alice to step back, drop her sword, and spit in the direction of those spineless slurvish slurking URPAL—!
CRASH!
Startled, Tarrant blinks, for he must be experiencing delusions again – oh, how inconvenient a time for the madness to impose on him! – because Alice is still fighting!
And not only that, but Tarrant feels his entire body tense, his eyes widen as he watches her destroy the Champion's defense. He gasps at the fury, the speed, the singular purpose of her attack.
Sweet Fates, she's going to kill him!
For an unforgivably long moment, Tarrant merely gapes, uncomprehending.
But why is she STILL FIGHTING?
He doesn't know. He doesn't know!
"Tarrant!" Nivens panics.
The Hatter doesn't take his eyes off of the battle as Alice charges, feints, and nearly takes the lion's paws off with a nasty backhanded slash. He only just manages to jump back in time.
"Alice!" Avenleif shouts. "Halt! You're free of your vows! Halt!"
But she doesn't.
"Something's wrong," Nivens despairs.
"Definitely," Chessur agrees, appearing. "I'd say she's in some sort of trance, but those stupid men don't know snail spit about Intentional Magic..."
Each thrust Alice executes comes that much closer to finding its mark. Each plea from the lion who falls back and gives ground again and again and again falls on seemingly deaf ears. And Tarrant suddenly knows what's going to happen:
Alice is going to kill Champion Avenleif.
And then she'll go back through the looking glass... forever.
"No!"
Tarrant charges out onto the battlefield, pulling his sword over his shoulder, sheathe and all! He doesn't notice Chessur and Niven's weak attempts to hold him back. He doesn't notice the ripple of surprise that passes through the assembled armies.
With another skull-cleaving slash, Alice manages to knock Avenleif backward with such suddenness that he stumbles over a broken stone and falls to the ground. His sword arm is down and Alice moves in, raising her broadsword in a furious swing...!
THWACK!
Tarrant winces under the impact of the broadsword against his still-sheathed weapon. Gritting his teeth, he thrusts up, wills his broken hand to comply, and pushes Alice back. She takes two light, retreating strides and regards him, panting.
Ignoring Avenleif as he stands again, Tarrant focuses on his wife, on her wide, frighteningly empty eyes, her pale, sweaty, colorless face, and says, "Alice. Alice, break. It's over. It's done. Come home."
For a moment, all is silent, perfectly still. Frozen.
For a moment, it seems as if she might have heard him.
For a moment, Tarrant hopes...
And then Alice raises her sword and steps toward him!
"Bloody bulloghin'...!" he growls when he awkwardly knocks her blade to the side, clutching his broadsword in his left hand now.
Tarrant barely notices the chaos of movement along the north edge of the battlefield. The lines of mercenaries have turned into a churning mass of arms and hands and paws and swords.
Ah, Thackery and Mally managed it, then, he barely has time to think before Alice is sending another cutting blow at him – at his knees this time.
"Alice! 'Tis your Hatter! Stop this!"
If she understands him, she shows no sign of it.
"Hafflaffen!" Avenleif shouts.
Tarrant twitches, wishing he could send a glare of irritation in the lion's direction. "What?"
"I smelled mint. She's been poisoned."
Tarrant's heart nearly stops. And then Alice very nearly takes off his head. If not for his regular attendance at Thackery's tea parties, and his extensive practice in ducking and diving, she very well would have!
"She's sensitive to suggestion!" Avenleif explains, stepping between Alice and Tarrant to draw her attacks. Although he doesn't want to feel thankful to that brutish coveting creature, he does, for Tarrant desperately needs to think!
"Suggestion?" he shouts at no one in particular. What hell sort of bloody sense is that supposed to make? Oshtyer had told her to fight and kill. Avenleif had told her to halt. Tarrant had told her to break and come home! What other suggestion could there possibly be?
"A... vow! Oath! Promise!" Avenleif shouts over the clanging of their swords.
A promise...
Tarrant watches Alice pursue her opponent. She hunts him mercilessly. As if her life depends on it. As if the very Fates of Underland will it to be. As if... As if...
Tarrant starts. His hands choke the scabbard in his grasp. He gapes as the dream comes to him.
Alice, fighting.
The bell ringing.
Alice, falling...
He can see her arms are shaking. She's long past her strength, yet something gives her the will to continue. Something drives her – is driving her! – to the point of utter exhaustion, to the point of death. She will fight until there is no breath left in her body. And suddenly, Tarrant understands that bloody nightmare. Alice will not fall on his sword! She will fall upon her promise to him to FIGHT AND WIN AT ALL COSTS!
Again, she throws Avenleif back and – again! – he falls!
Discarding his sword, Tarrant leaps for her, grabs her arm, spins her around.
"Alice!"
His heel catches on a clump of weeds and he falls.
"I release ye from yer promise!"
The breath rushes out of him as his back crashes against the stones. Above him, Alice raises the sword.
"Ye d'nae hav'teh fight anymore!"
And the sword falls.
"Nor win! Raven!"
And stops.
Tarrant stares up at her, ignores the cold edge of the blade against his throat. "Alice..." he pleads. For if she does not come back to him now, she may as well kill him. The pain of losing her to this poison, this merciless madness, would be too much to bear.
Her lips move. The barest whisper of sound passes between them. "... hatter...?"
He's so relieved, he can only gasp and gaze up at her. Her eyes, as black as pitch and struggling to focus, finally – finally – see him!
"... why... writing desk... slightest..."
"Let go, Alice. I've got you now," he murmurs.
Her grip on the sword relaxes and it falls away. And then her eyes roll up toward the sky, her knees give out, and she slumps to the ground. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his right hand, Tarrant reaches for her, tries to save her from hurting herself on the stones but merely ends up having the breath forced out of him again as he lands on his back once more.
Tarrant closes his eyes for the briefest moment, inhales Alice's scent – too minty! – and tightens his arms around her. Oh, what he wouldn't give to just lie here with her in his arms, but she is not yet safe!
"Bandy!" he calls, struggling to his feet. To his surprise, Avenleif gives him a paw under his arm and another at his back rather than trying to take Alice from him. Tarrant glances at him, puzzled, then takes in the battlefield. The Shuchlanders look shocked and irritated. Jaspien's mercenaries are just now managing to stand up again, finally having cut through the web of sewing thread Mally and Thackery had strung their feet together with. The Bandersnatch crashes out of the woods.
"Go," Avenleif says, holding out his battered broadsword. "Get on. I'll hand her up to you."
Tarrant gives him a distrustful glance.
"It's not safe for her here!" the lion snarls and, in his anger, Tarrant sees the beast's honesty.
Trying his best not to think about what he's doing, Tarrant passes Alice to the lion, shoulders his broadsword, throws himself upon the Bandersnatch's back, and reaches back for her. Avenleif passes Alice to him without a moment's hesitation.
Wrapping his arms around her, gripping the Bandersnatch's fur in his left hand, Tarrant doesn't even think to thank the he-lion who had helped him save her, his Alice, his wife, the keeper of his heart.
"GO!" he shouts to the beast that would do anything for Alice, even race across half of Underland in a single evening.
And, it just so happens, that's precisely what the Bandersnatch does.
[End of Chapter 7]
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