Author's Note: TRIGGER WARNING! This chapter gets a little graphic with blood, and a rape attempt made later in this chapter.


Stayne tore at the chains still, he couldn't say how long he was at the task of attempting to break the headboard or the links of the shackles that locked him to the bed but it might as well be an eternity if he was racing against Time. Alice left him to rot as she went into the fray, alone, and against one of the most despicable people he had ever met. His skin around his wrists were past the point of being raw. The constant friction and pulling began to show, as blood began to break from his skin, but that was only it.

He needed more blood to act as a lubricant to help slide the cuffs off, but he was more fearful of losing the night hours than his own blood. His eyes looked to the balcony to see that the black sky was beginning to lighten. At the rate he was going, he'd be lucky to escape the bondages in time for the help to bring him breakfast.

"That stupid girl!" He seethed giving another rattle of the manacles, his tender flesh searing with pain, but he saw past it. This was not his first time being imprisoned, and he wished he could say it was his first time being chained in bed, but that would have been a lie.

He grew impatient now, Alice could already be dead by now, or worse.

What could be worse than death for his wildflower? His mind came up with a thousand and one possibilities. Some of those possibilities had been delivered to him. Tortures of various levels of physical and mental abuse. His heart pounded at the thought of it.

'Work faster you fool!' Stayne thought bitterly, he could not waste the time nor energy on such thoughts. Not now.


It was the night of Iracebeth's wedding to the Duke of Hearts, and the banquet was in full swing. The royal blooded and noble born from all of Under were there to congratulate the pair upon the union. There was no real romance to this union however, it was plain to see. Mutual perhaps, but by no means was it endearing.

For who could actually love Iracebeth of Crims? Her head was at least three times larger than a proper head, she could have been very beautiful indeed, but her sheer size made everything else secondary. Aside from that, the once prim and proper princess had now grown into a short tempered tyrant. She had not been the same since the Naming from Time.

The White King walked about the courtyard, thanking the guests for attending, a white knight on his tail. The Queen had passed some years before, taken by sickness. Much of the joy had been taken with her from the kingdom once she passed. The White King sighed heavily casting a glance to the knight who trailed behind him.

"Tell me, Ilosovic, are you courting anyone at the time?" He asked in curiosity. Ilosovic didn't even gesture shock at the personal question. He had been trained well to keep face, no matter the situation at hand.

"I… have not been courting anyone regularly, no, My King." Ilosovic replied, his eye carefully surveying the crowded garden, the ever diligent sentinel. The king nodded slowly.

"I see. Have you no want or need to settle down?" He asked, somewhat concerned. "I don't mean to pry my boy, but I'm very fond of you, and it would be a pity to see you go without the joys of having a family of your own."

"To be fair, My King, family is not something I know much about," the young knight whispered. He was still so young to the world, naive even at points, but his experiences beyond the social realm exceeded most. "I suppose I should like to marry… someday, but only to the right woman."

"I hope you'll forgive me, Ilosovic, but I think of you in a way of being like a son to me. I have fathered two beautiful and yet very different girls, and I love them dearly, but since the day you saved my Iracebeth I-" He paused to shake his head. "No, it's not my place to say such things. I'm sorry Ilosovic. Truly."

Ilosovic did not respond now. Father's had always been a touchy subject for him. His step father, now under imprisonment, had nearly ruined him as a child, and his father was nothing more than a ghost, memories of brief conversations with his mother. To have the King as a father might have been grand, but he had no need for a father figure. Not anymore.

The king spoke once more to break the silence. His bright eyes upon the crowd, searching his subjects. "Mirana has grown fond of you." He said out loud, Stayne felt a twinge of disgust, but managed to keep it under. The king may have failed to see past his daughter's flaws, but one did not need two eyes to see that Mirana was sinister.

Since the day of the Naming, she had grown colder. The heartless childish behavior had turned into something darker. She lost interest in the living all together. Haunting the graveyard in her spare time, not to mourn the dead, but to dig them up. A phase was what the doctors claimed, due to their mother's sudden death, but Stayne felt it in his bones. The girl was not right.

"She is of royal blood, your daughter. She should go to someone whose blood would better suit her," Stayne said simply, counting his blessings that he was not within that class, but something struck the King now. Inquisitive on the expression that was on the White King's face, Ilosovic raised an eyebrow. "You're majesty?"

"It's nothing, Ilosovic. Nothing in the least," lied the king. "I suppose you may be right, however I don't think those tame and noble men can keep my Mira's interests occupied." He said, not knowing the silent loathing his Champion held for his daughter. He gave a sigh and a shake of his head. "Alas, my Mirana will do as she pleases, and I shall do as I please. It's late, I should rest."

Ilosovic nodded, and motioned to follow him but the king held his hand up.

"No no, you enjoy the festivities my boy. Will you escort my daughter and her husband to Crims for me in the morning."

Ilosovic nodded firmly, a smug smile crossed his lips briefly but died once the King's back was turned. Ilosovic surveyed the party goers now. Even though he was accepted by the kingdom, adored by the king, and even sought after by women, he still held distaste for it all.

He went to mingle with the crowd, in search of a maiden who could maybe warm his bed for the night but most were either taken or far too intoxicated for him to enjoy. He made his way around but grew tired of searching and figured it would be best to call it a night. He had a fair journey ahead of him still. He could have better luck in Crims, most of the women in Marmoreal were far too concerned with looking perfect to dare ruin their image in bed. Not that the people of Crims weren't vain, but at least they had passion beyond what they saw in the mirror.

Turning on his heel, he stopped to see that Mirana was before him, her eyes wide, doll like. That's what she always reminded him of. A beautiful doll, perfectly crafted with the finest features but regardless of the object's beauty it was still dead inside. Soulless.

"Hello, Sir Stayne." She cooed, sauntering towards him, a drink in hand.

Her dress was low cut, the silk a shimmering silver, her hair cascading down in gentle waves. Her lips were full, glossy from some seduction based balm and her cheeks rosy from the drink, but even with all these highly enticing traits, he could not move his staring eye from hers. They truly were the most darkest pair of eyes he had ever seen.

"Your Majesty," Ilosovic murmured giving a bow, trying his best to not mock her now.

"You aren't going to retire now, are you?" She asked with a pout. "The party has only just begun!" Her hand with the glass thrown out to the public, the liquid flying from the glass but did not assault any of the surrounding party goers. The knight could not help but chuckle at the princess. She was not one to drink, and it showed.

"I am. I do, after all, have to see your sister off tomorrow," he said more than pleased to share the information that he would not be around for an extended period of time. Mirana scoffed at the news and set the empty glass on the ground. He was almost impressed that she did not throw it.

"Anyone could escort my sister.. Not everyone can dance with me." She said extending her hand out expectantly, waiting for the knight to ask for the dance. "Well? Aren't you going to ask?"

"Ask what?" Ilosovic asked, growing tired not only in spirit, but in mental capacity.

"Ask me to dance? Or shall I order you to dance with me?" She spoke sternly, her eyes narrowing.

Grinding his teeth, Ilosovic took her by the hand and led her to the floor. The pair sifting through the already full dance floor. Acting the part of the gentleman, Ilosovic led as the two became one in the dance. Mirana smiled in victory, relishing the whole idea of it.

"Most men would kill to be in your position, Ilosovic." The Princess spoke, her voice sultry, increasing the knights desire to flee her presence.

"Well killing is often a requirement to be a Champion." Ilosovic muttered, feigning ignorance to the statement, but was met with a glare.

"Not for your job!... With me. Here." She cooed, releasing a hand to feel his chest, the chainmail meant to keep him from being penetrated by weapons did nothing to keep the woman's hands at bay. "I shudder to think what men would do if I offered myself to their beds."

Ilosovic bit back his tongue. She was not pure. He didn't necessarily care if she was or not, after all, he was no better, but what irritated him was how she carried herself like a virgin in public, when she was far more experienced than even the most popular chamber maiden.

"I would not know what anyone would do to have you." He said simply as her hand wandered to his belt.

"Would you kill to have me in your bed, Ilosovic?" She asked softly.

He eyed her with suspicion, but his gaze went to the dancers around them. They all slowed their pace to watch them it seemed. Whispers and points. It seemed that all of Under wanted this union to take place. Everyone but him.

"I wouldn't do a thing to have you," Stayne admitted but to his surprise, that only increased the woman's groping hand.

"You're the only person I have ever met to deny me, and that only makes me long for you more, knight or not, I lust for you, Stayne." She hissed softly. "Tell me, Demon Limbs, what is your nether region like? Does it match the rest of you?" Her hand managed to slip into the band, but he pulled himself away swiftly, causing the woman to fall to the floor, gasps erupting all around them, the music died instantly, as did the innocent doe eyed act from Mirana.

"I hope you bear me no ill will, Sir Stayne," Mirana started, her voice almost challenging him. "After all, I am the next in line for the throne. Surely as a Champion, you would not wish to harm your queen-to-be, would you?"

Ilosovic was silent, a part of him regretted the action, but a larger part basked in it now. He had always been seen in poor light, but Mirana? No this was foreign to her. She was practically wounded, having put on some display for him only to be rejected. A grin trickling across his lips now.

"No, no your highness." He began coolly closing the gap between them now. "I do not wish you any grievance or harm." He whispered, the furious expression on Mirana's face now softening. "This woman, the Queen to be, was appointed by Time… Look at her. She's beautiful." He mocked, however the rest of the crowd took it as a compliment. "Such a pretty little thing, isn't she?" A round of applause came from the subjects in agreement.

"Here she is, wanting to bed me-" Stayne said sharply

"I did not state my intentions clearly enough, Sir." Mirana spoke, near tears from embarrassment as she got back to her feet. "Ilosovic, I wish for you to be my king!"

Another round of applause came from the crowd where Stayne felt a familiar disbelief, like the day he awoke to find that he would never see the world with a pair of eyes. He was shocked at the statement the princess delivered. Not that she wished for it, but that she had the nerve to even think about it. After the torments she had put him through... Unless-

"I see clearly now, Mirana. You weren't intending on torturing me…" He rasped, the princess's face flushed. "You were testing me. Weren't you?"

An honest smile came to her face now. Even her eyes gave hint to some light and she nodded.

"At first... They were just games, silly childish games, but as we grew, I knew the games had to evolve," She admitted gently. "I couldn't think of anyone more worthy of being my husband than you, Ilosovic. You saved my sister's life, fought gallantly for our kingdom countless times, and even more impressive, manage to keep my interests." Mirana whispered. "Ilosovic, I think I very well may love you."

Cheers erupted from the crowd now around them, no one aware of Iracebeth's horror that her little sister was stealing her day.

A gentle caress of her cheek came from Ilosovic's hand. His head tilted, and a candid smile to go with it. He moved in, his face only inches from hers now, Mirana's eyes fluttered closed, and her lips parted. All was still.

"That was beautiful." He whispered into the mere particles that separated their lips. "However, I owe you no kindness. Goodnight, Mirana," and he retreated from the dance floor, leaving Mirana where she stood.

The crowd was mortified that such a noble knight could do such an dreadful thing. That any man could treat the Princess in such a way. Mirana's expression went blank. No sorrow, fear or anger could be traced. Only her tears gave way to her true nature now. However, no one saw the joy upon Iracebeth's face.

She had a new favorite.


A howl of pain erupted from Stayne now. The blood moistened his skin but it was not enough to slip his hands though the cuffs. He was left with two choices now. He could either give in and wait patiently for morning and be released by the poor soul that had the displeasure of walking in with breakfast, or he could break his thumb.

Rolling to his side, he pressed his face into the pillow, his teeth bearing down into it with all his might. Taking his left thumb into his right hand, he gritted his teeth. Clenching his eyes tight, he snapped his thumb at the knuckle. Like most of the things in his life, it was painful, but fought through it as he did with nearly everything.

Sliding the cuff off, he winced at the tenderness of his skin, scraping the iron before being free. He desperately wanted to tend to the wrist, but he still had the other to free, and then there was the matter of finding Alice. There was not a moment to spare. He was through the worst of it at least. Reaching down to his boot, he removed the dagger that was strapped upon his calf and made quick work of the lock, breaking it entirely, releasing his other hand. Once more, there was no time to bask in his victory, he was far from it.

Rushing from the room, he sought out for anyone who may have come in passing with her, but he came to the conclusion that there were only three places in which Alice would meet with Mirana. At Marmoreal, at the Hatter's cottage, or upon the battlefield.

'The Checkered Field by the Cliffs of Bane.' His voice warned.

He was past the point of worrying for his own safety. Time had already shown him his fate, there was no use in fighting the thing now, but for Alice, she could very well be spared still. He raced to the stables, surprised to see that the occupants, mares and stallions alike, were all very much awake at this hour. Meaning that Alice must have taken a horse and fairly recently as well.

And indeed she did.

"My King! We did not expect you to be up for a night ride as well!" Whinnied a mare in the back. "The Queen had left not more than an hour ago!"

Only an hour? He was surely fussing with his chains longer than that, at least by another hour, but could she have done with that extra time? No matter, it could very well work in his favor. He could still catch her before she even reached her destination.

"Tell me, did she say where she was going?!" Stayne demanded, the horse nodding in reply.

"Yes! She wanted to visit the grounds where she slayed the Jabberwocky! She said it would help with her getting her muchness back," came another voice, a stallion this time.

Of course she would believe such a thing. She would try to kill Mirana on the very field she became the Champion of Under. He quickly mounted the first stallion he saw who he believed to be the most alert and awake, and he prayed that was also the quickest.

"We must be quick. I cannot let her reach that field. If at all possible, we could intercept her,"

"Forgive me, my King, but your mating ritual is most invigorating. Chasing down your betrothed on a night such as this with the moon full." Stayne ignored the comment, he was not sure what made the horse think this was a game, but so long as he knew there was something important on the line he would not argue.

Without a saddle on, the stallion fled from the stables like a shooting star, Stayne gripping onto his mane, and lay close to his spine to not give way to resistance from the wind. If mating was the point to this insane chase, they could not have picked a better night. A full harvest moon was upon them, the entire land plain to see as day, but Alice was nowhere in sight.


The road to Crims was a silent one. Many of those that were traveling had more to drink than they had previously anticipated. The silence wasn't just for those who could not bear the sounds of day, but also for the presence of Ilosovic Stayne. He was surely the talk of the land, denying and insulting the princess Mirana.

Speculations flew around the moment he left the party. He would lose his title of Champion, surely. The White King would not stand for such a thing, he had locked away Winthrop for less than that! Would he be executed? Or would the union be forced? Maybe Mirana would find a potion to make him love her.

It was all just gibberish to the dishonored knight. He didn't care in the slightest for his fate now. He could die happy knowing he had struck Mirana's pride. As far as he was concerned, the witch did not have a heart to break.

"I'm not sure if you are the most admirable, or the most idiotic man I have ever met." Iracebeth chimed from her horse back, trailing behind Ilosovic. "You insulted my sister, that hasn't been done since-"

"The Naming, I know. " Ilosovic interrupted, his eye scouting ahead not wanting to entertain the conversation.

"She really did have a fondness for you though. Not love however, don't be silly. No, maybe more like how one might adore a new pet, or their favorite dress," mused the newly wed woman. "She wished to possess you, own you, mark you." Stayne could only scoff at the statement as though Iracebeth was any better. The royals were all the same in his opinion. If it existed in their realm it was meant to be owned.

"You know, I don't think it is safe for you to return to Marmoreal. " Iracebeth said, concerned in her voice, but not in her eyes as she gazed up at him. "Where will you go?"

"I don't have many options." He said with a shrug, stroking Cloppin's mane with care. "Perhaps I should just banish myself to the Outlands, save them the trouble." The young queen looked to the man in shock.

"The Outlands? No, that is a silly idea Ilosovic. Absolutely stupid if you ask me," She informed with her nose in the air. "You shall be the head of my husband's Battalion. They need a man of your background. They are after all only cards," she said as they both looked over their shoulders to inspect the poorly built warriors.

"I don't believe that I could hold a title now, let alone my head."

"Nonsense!" Iracebeth scolded. "My father won't refuse my request to keep you, even if Mirana wishes for your return or death. I should very much like to keep you." Iracbeth said, fully away of the hypocrisy she held having just insulted her sister for wanting to keep the current Champion to herself.

"And if I refuse?" Ilosovic asked looking back to see if the Duke was awake to hear his wife, or if the man had slipped off his horse again. The simple man was awake and still on top of the gentle mare he rode but where his mind was at Stayne couldn't say.

"Well maybe I should just hand you over to Mirana, on a silver platter," teased the large headed royal, though she very well meant it. Ilosovic knew what little choice he had now and truth be told he wasn't sure if he was coming out of the frying pan, or going into it now.

"Very well, your highness, you've persuaded me. I will lead your men."

"Good. It's settled then. Ilosovic Stayne, The Knight of Hearts." She mused. "It has a ring to it, does it not?" She asked, looking back to the Flush behind them. A 2, 4, 5, 7 and a 10. "You there! Number Seven! Go back to Marmoreal and inform my father that Ilosovic has agreed to be my Knight!" She ordered.

"Yes Ma'am!" Came the baritone voice, and turned back around, the 4 card joining him as well to deliver the news, neither one of them expecting that it would be their last task to complete.


They passed the point that divided the Outlands from Underland. The Checkered Field was within view but upon the grounds no one was in sight, nor was there an indication of anyone being there recently. Stayne cursed, had Alice led them off course, or was she taken hostage by Mirana? He prepared to tell the stallion to make way for Marmoreal when something caught his eye. A glint of metal the shined like a star even in the light of the rising sun.

In the tower, the one which Alice had retreated upon to defeat the last Jabberwocky, was where the source of the second light was. His heart nearly stopped when he saw that it was Alice in her armor. His heels dug into the side of the hoofed creature, beckoning him to increase his pace.

Pulling alongside of the crumbling town, Stayne felt panic take him seeing that Alice was strung up.

"Alice!" He cried out as he flung himself from the back of the stallion and bounded up the partially destroyed staircase. Making his way to the top, his inside churned at the sight. Alice was suspended from the ground, only by a few inches, a rotted beam serving as the makeshift pulley. What was particularly cruel was how she was strung up. Her arms were the point at which the rope suspended her, and they were not raised over her head but instead stretched behind her back. Such a position with the weight of the chainmail armor could do terrible damage to the limbs.

He drew his sword and sliced the rope once beside her, his other hand securely wrapped around her. She wilted into him, her body limp and unresponsive to the sudden relief. Dropping his sword he fell to his knees and cradled her close to him, quickly undoing her bondages and once her hands were free he surveyed her condition carefully.

She was alive, her chest steadily rising and falling. Her hands were swollen from the rope, cutting off the proper flow of blood. He did not think her arm sockets had been damaged severely, but that would have to be seen when she woke.

Once again however someone had bashed her pretty little head in.

Blood stained her right temple, her hair matted with blood. A nasty gash had been delivered to her, blunt force he suspected. More so he was mortified to see bruising forming around her neck. 'Was she going to be hung?' he wondered before he could make out the faint outlines of finger marks. Someone attempted to strangle her.

Blood ran down her lip and a fair amount as well, but he did not believe it to be her own blood. A gentle gloved hand moved to caress her hair from her face.

"Alice?" He asked, his voice fragile, as though he could cause more damage just though his tone. She did not respond but her body did begin to stir. Relief overcame him until he felt the cold touch of a blade to his throat.

Of course. An ambush. How could he have been so foolish? How could he not rush to Alice's aid? His gaze pried away from Alice and to the man holding the blade.

"Winthrop" Stayne growled. "Of course. Only a man as vile as you could cause harm to such a precious thing." The White Knight chuckled at Stayne's statement.

"I wish I could say that this was my doing, but it's not my place to take credit," said Winthrop as he nodded to his left. "I think I can appreciate this craftsman's work fully now."

Stayne turned his head to follow the gesture to see a shaking and seething Tarrant. His eyes the same as the morning sky, orange, yellow and pinks, truly the color his eyes, no matter the shade, were the colors of madness. The only thing that drew his eye away from Tarrant's was the bloody lip the man sported, along with other scrapes on his face.

Rage overcame Stayne now, a soft mewl of pain erupting from Alice, drawing his attention back to her.


Alice had arrived at the battlefield as the morning light began to chase the night away. Dismounting the mare as the edge of the field, she requested a favor of the creature and it was off, as was Alice who took her time to reach the center of the site.

Mirana sat in the center of the chess board, a quaint table set up for two with tea and sweets. It irritated Alice that she intended to disrupt her routine and yet the Queen incorporated it into their meeting.

"Alice, please, have a seat." Mirana insisted, pouring a cup of tea for her.

Unable to find the will to say no from sheer disgust, Alice abided, a malicious look in her eyes.

"Sugar?" Mirana asked with her doe eyes. She looked so utterly innocent and it made Alice sick to know what she really was, and that Alice once thought her pure and innocent. She seized the cup instead and placed it before her. She had no intentions of drinking it. For all she knew it could be poisoned.

"So, Alice," The White Queen began, flattening her dress in her lap. "Tell me. What is it like to be a Queen? Do you enjoy it? And how is your husband?" Her gaze turned to her own cup of tea as she stirred it carelessly. "Is he a vigorous lover?"

"I did not address this meeting to gossip, Mirana," Alice said sternly, "but rather to give you a chance. No more lies! No more game or twisted ideas. Just confess your faults and perhaps we can make a truce," Alice spoke frantically, flustered still by it all.

"You know, I should very much like to think that your husband is a beast in the sheets," Mirana commented, ignoring all that Alice had sought from her. "After all, he has killed people, he must be utterly ruthless at night."

"I would not know Mirana, we have not been intimate." Alice confessed, puzzled as to why Mirana was obsessing over her and Stayne's marriage.

"Oh." Mirana said, slightly dumbfounded. "Well. That is a pity." She whispered. "Though I'm sure Tarrant will be thrilled." She uttered before taking a sip of her tea.

"Mirana, I wish for this nonsense to end!" Alice pleaded, making the woman in white peer from her tea cup. "Why, why must you lie to everyone as to what's happened, Underland is surely big enough for the both of us to share in peace!"

Mirana gently placed her tea cup down now.

"No, Alice. It is not." Alice was in shock at the bluntness.

"Very well then, Mirana, if that is your answer, then we shall have to settle this like men. Draw your weapon." She ordered as she rose to her feet, unsheathing her sword.

Mirana abided by producing a purple vial from under the table and placed it onto the table. Confused, Alice looked to Mirana now for an answer.

"It is the last pure form of Jabberwocky blood. Your way back home Alice. There is enough for two."

"Mirana, I do not wish to leave and I am sure Ilosovic would not wish to flee his home either," Alice responded, insulted that Mirana tried to buy her victory with the blood of the beast she killed herself.

"Oh, the other half isn't for your husband. It's for Tarrant!" Mirana said sitting up a little straighter. "He misses you terribly. He thinks that you are under the influence of some poison. Obviously you are not, but he believes it nonetheless."

"Yes, because you told him!"

"I did," Mirana confessed with a bright smile. "He also believes that you would be cured of this illness once you returned home." Alice eyed the queen now, annoyed past the point of forgiveness.

"As I have said, I do not wish to return home," her blade extended out to meet the queen once more. "If you do not have a better deal to discuss, or an actual weapon to produce, I will be forced to slay you here and now."

"You would kill me like some helpless creature, out here?" Mirana asked, slightly impressed.

"You would not be the first beast for me to vanquish," Alice retorted, a gust of wind blowing back her hair looking like a true champion indeed.

"Very well. Tarrant! Tarrant, it's safe for you to come out now!" Shock gripped Alice as she saw the fiery haired man emerge from the tower's wreckage. Joy was plain to see on his face as he raced out to meet them.

"Alice?! Oh Alice, you'll do it then?! You go to your land with me?!" He asked, his eyes the bright green that she has associated with happiness. "Why, I've never been away from home, but I'm sure with ye by me side, I won't have to worry!" He spoke but upon taking in the sword into account he frowned deeply. "Alice, put that thing away!"

"Tarrant, please listen to me-" Alice started but Mirana interjected as she rose to her feet.

"Alice has expressed that she does not wish to go back to her home with you. It seems that I may have been wrong to think that this… Poison could have been suppressed briefly." Alice's sword now at Mirana's chin.

"Silence yourself! Tarrant I-"

But Tarrant had snatched the vial in hand at Mirana's explanation and tried offering it up to Alice.

"Take it Alice. Drink it and I'll drink after you, and we can be together!" The hatter said, his eyes tearing up. Alice felt as though her heart would break at the sight.

"Tarrant, I can't go back home. Not after this, not with what she has done! Oh Hatter, if you only knew what-" But he wasn't listening.

"It's that knave's fault. He's corrupted your mind, and it's all me fault. I should 'ave never left you!" The green eyes turning to yellow in panic. "Please Alice just-."

"Tarrant! Ilosovic has not corrupted me! It is Mirana who corrupts! She's been lying to you, to everyone! I am not poisoned, or corrupted. I'm perfectly myself!" She insisted.

"Oh Lass, just drink up, and we can be happy!" He pressured, putting the glass to her lips, but in fury Alice pushed it away, the vial slipping from his hands and crashed to the ground. The precious liquid from the beast dried up almost immediately.

Tarrant fell after the bottle, in hopes of being able to collect the juice, but it was too late. The blood was lost. His hopes of running away with Alice were lost.

Mirana smiled eyeing Alice who had returned the sword's blade to her chin.

"Now that that's done, maybe you could start telling the truth, Mirana. That you sent your knight to kill me and-"

"Lost," moaned the Hatter, catching both the women's attention. "It's all lost."

Alice swallowed hard, her blade lowered to the ground, sympathetic to her friend's plight. Her steely gaze shot though Mirana as a warning not to flee, but the queen insisted with a graceful wave of her hands to tend to their mutual friend. Kneeling beside Tarrant, Alice placed her left hand onto his shoulder.

"Tarrant. I'm sorry. But my place was not to go back there… Not now, not yet. Not when I have so much I need to do here." She whispered, the man quivering beneath her touch.

"Why is it, you are always never able to be where I want you to be," he whispered gently. Wounded, Alice sighed but before she could offer a reason his hand seized her left hand, inspecting her features with his bright red eyes. It scared Alice, seeing him in this state. But she knew she caused this rage.

"Tarrant please, listen to me!" He would not. Tarrant was distant now as he inspected her ring. She wore a band of black and gold on her ring finger. She was married to Stayne then, but she did sound herself, feel herself. But this was not the Alice he loved. How could it be?

"So ye would rather lay wit that slythy gutless knave, would ye, dear Alice?" His voice hissing, making Alice wish to pull away, but she was still ensnared by his hand, which tightened now.

"Tarrant, stop it, you are hurting me!" She pleaded trying to pull free still.

"Ye Alice would prefer to be de Queen of filth and slime 'den be wit me!?" He rumbled, his nails digging into her, she was thankful only one nail was left unbandage on this hand, but it still hurt an awful lot.

"Hatter!" Alice shouted in hopes of reaching him, but he was too far into his rage. And she was the cause. When he did not release her she was left with little choice. Releasing her grip on the sword she delivered a blow to his cheek. He never saw it coming, even as he stared at her with vicious eyes. He fell to the checkered floor and at last Alice was free.

"I'm sorry Tarrant, you wouldn't let go! You wouldn't listen!" She spoke tending to her tender wrist.

The man was silent, Alice suspected he felt like a fool, but that was a foolish thought. When their eyes met again, Alice's heart quickened. His Red eyes remained, speckled with yellow and the outer rim of his Iris a deep orange.

"Tarrant-" She whispered, but there was no getting through to him now. His gaze went to Mirana.

"Yer majesty, I wish to be yer weapon."

Mirana smiled. Oh this was far more delicious than she could have planned. She accepted with a simple nod and Tarrant was on Alice like a rabid dog, his hands wrapped around her throat.

Alice kicked frantically beneath him in hopes of escape, her fingers clawing at his hands for release. Her face grew red, unable to breath. She felt as though her eyes would pop right out of her own bloody head. She tried to speak, to beg, cry out to her beloved hatter, but no sound could be produced. Even if she could speak, it was likely he would not obey.

Her right hand abandoned the hands at her throat, searching desperately for her blade through touch. Tarrant seemed to be bearing all his weight on her now. Her legs had died down their frantic kicks to pathetic squirms, hope had all but run out once her fingers felt the hilt of the sword.

With her finger wrapping around the clutch of her weapon and applying what might she had left, Alice put her entire force into raising up the weapon and driving the hilt to the side of the mad man's head. She was successful in not only knocking him off her, but his hat from his head as well.

Alice gasped for air, taking in the oxygen with greed before going into a fit of coughs. Sitting up her eyes moved to take in the sight of Tarrant, blood rushing from the side of his head, and his eyes a dull brown. She hoped that the knock had knocked him out of this fit, but it only subsided the more violent portion for the time being.

"Tarrant," Alice rasped, her left hand still on her neck. "Tarrant I don't wish to fight you." She called while struggling to get to her feet. "My battle is not with you, but with Mirana."

Tarrant's eyes glanced to Alice briefly before falling to the ground.

"Hatter!" Alice shouted to ensure he had heard her.

"Tarrant, Alice is still pure." Mirana cooed, drawing the attention of both Tarrant and Alice now. "Stayne has yet to claim her innocence." Something flashed in Tarrant's eyes at the news. His gaze going back to Alice.

"Is it true Alice? You have not given yourself to the knave?" He asked hopeful. Alice shook her head, unclear why any of this mattered. A naive girl to the intentions of men.

"No. No I haven't."

A smile broke out across Tarrant's face now, his eyes shifting from the brown to a gold. The news made him glad indeed.

"I knew you wouldn't give yerself up without a fight! The marriage isn't complete then!" Tarrant said getting to his feet and rushed over to her happily, as though nothing had transpired moments ago.

"We can end this Alice. You are not yet the queen, and the knave without a queen is nothing!" Tarrant chattered happily as his hands moved to remove the ring from Alice's finger, but the woman drew away. Confusion took them both now. "Alice- I- I would very much like to have you."

Alice felt stupid now. She did not know what she was missing here and now. She also felt anger, anger towards Tarrant. He had just attacked her, she was not sure if he would have gone through with killing her, but he nearly did. Now here he was wishing to 'have' her.

"Tarrant. I'm not an object to be had," Alice said firmly as she pulled away, but still he advanced.

"I know Alice, but Stayne, he should not have you at all! He's already ruined your mind so much! If we both took each other then maybe we can undo what he's done?!" His hands motioning to her waist, but Alice retreated back once more, offending Tarrant.

"Hatter!" Alice shouted in warning. "This is not the time nor place to be thinking of such things!" She hissed, frustrated by his constant attempts to hold her.

"But Alice-"

"No Tarrant!" Alice hissed. "I'm not going to agree to this! This is madness!" Tarrant's heart sank. His madness was both a flaw and a blessing for him.

"You- You said that all the best people were mad, Alice." The hatter whispered, injured. "You said-"

"Tarrant, I mean it. I might not have consummated my marriage to Stayne, and maybe I never will, but I'm not going to betray my vows to him. I owe him that much." Alice muttered before sheathing her sword. Her gaze was back on Mirana whose face was placid, unmoving or caring. Alice had hoped to achieve something this day, but she could not with Tarrant here.

"We'll have to rearrange for another day to discuss our terms, Mirana. Maybe you'll be proper enough to not use my friends against me. She said turning her back to the pair and made her way off the field. She had barely taken a step when she felt a pair of hands seize her by her hair, yanking her head back painfully.

Tarrant yanked harder with one hand at the other and went to draw her blade, tossing it far from them. Satisfied with disarming her, Tarrant shoved her back towards Mirana's direction. Hitting the ground with a grunt, Alice did not remain on the floor for long and fled for the tower, not daring to look back.

Tarrant grinned wickedly. He was not in the right state of mind. Torn between his admiration for Alice, his hatred for the knave and general madness, he chased after her.

Alice ran up the steps of the ruins, stumbling upon the stair case when Tarrant seized her by her hair once more. Pulling her by her curls, he led her up the steps and shoved her to the floor once at the top. Sauntering over her his eyes took in as she still attempted to escape him, crawling upon the jagged floor.

He crouched above her and flipped her over onto her back, pinning her to the floor. He enjoyed and loathed the feeling as she writhed beneath him. Kicking and squirming. Suddenly a harsh slap struck his cheek as Alice managed to free one of her hands. The Hatter hesitated briefly, making Alice hopeful that she had broken the madness, but instead his hands seized her face and he began kissing her forcefully.

Alice's eyes widened with panic as his lips assaulted hers. She shoved him off but it was only a temporary solution. With one hand, the hatter seized both of hers and forced them over her head, pinning them to the floor, and once again, his lips were on her, his other hand making way for his pants.

"I'll make ye' mine Alice. The knave shan't have ye." He growled into her lips, the maddening kiss growing deeper as did her panic. Without hesitation, she opened her mouth, but what the madman saw as an invitation, Alice saw as her opportunity.

She bit down on his lip, drawing blood immediately, as well as a howl of pain from Tarrant, his hands releasing her to tend to the wound, giving Alice the opportunity to buck off the man and ran off, putting distance between her and the madman.

Tears forced their way from Alice's eyes. Never had she felt so freighted. Sick even. Trying her best to steady her nerves, Alice hid behind a wall, her breaths short and shallow. She was unsure how she was to escape this. There was no use in talking to Tarrant, not in this state.

She moved to survey the spot where she had left the injured Tarrant but he was nowhere in sight. She slowly made her way from her hiding place to seek out the location of The Hatter. One would be able to spot him from a mile away, but yet he was able to hide here, just as she did.

Swallowing hard, Alice made for the stairs once more, if she could reach her blade, she could keep him at bay. She was at the top of the staircase when she was sideswiped by the madman, the pair crashing to the floor in a flurry of kicks and squirms.

Tarrant, with the thickest thread he carried on his person, began to bind Alice's wrists behind her back. The cries from Alice went unnoticed. Once a sufficient knot was in place, Tarrant pulled the woman up to her feet and dragged her to the edge of the tower, Alice sobbed quietly now.

"Tarrant-"

"Black tart," hissed the man as he threw the tail end of the bindings over a rotting beam. A final sob came from the once beloved Champion, but her expression was not filled with panic any longer. She knew she was no longer in a position to escape. Her eyes met Tarrant's briefly. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for an apology or plea once more, but he did not expect the blow she would land.

"I prefer the Knave's lips," Alice muttered softly but it was said with defiance. Anger coursing through the madman tenfold, he reached down and picked up a nearby broken brick and hit her on the side of her head, knocking her out cold.


Alice's eyes slowly cracked open to see Stayne, confusion and relief came to her expression. For a moment, she believed she was safe.

"Stayne, I-" She stopped herself upon seeing the blade hovering above her. "I'm so sorry, Ilosovic I- I didn't think-" Tears forming in her eyes, making the king clutch her closer as though he could simply hide her from the enemy.

"That may be the most thoughtful statement I've heard all day. Truly a jubjub would have had a better idea to avoid this fate than you, my dear." Winthrop insisted, "However I should very much like to thank you. This makes it oh so much sweeter. That the stain of my life, his demise, should come from you. Good show, Alice."

Stayne's eye locked with Winthrop's until Mirana came into view. A sickly sweet smile on her lips. "Mirana," hissed the Black King, a giggle erupting from the woman.

"Hello Ilosovic, are you ready to meet your fate?" She asked, her head tilted ever so much. Conceited as ever. A growl coming from Stayne.

"No harm will come to Alice." It wasn't a question but a demand.

"Alice is not my concern at this very moment, Time may come for her yet," Mirana mused before glancing to The Hatter "However, I think I may leave that choice to Tarrant, though I'm not sure if he is in the forgiving mood currently." She murmured, making Stayne wish he had arrived sooner. "What do you think Tarrant? Should we have Alice sent over the cliffs as well, or do you think she can be salvaged yet?"

Tarrant eyed the blonde that shook in Stayne's arms. Guilt was all he felt now. He had caused her that fear, those cuts, her pain. He did not wish to take it so far, but she had driven him to it.

"We'll take her... Take her back to Marmoreal." The man said feebly. "Maybe after the filthy knave's death she can recover," Tarrant suggested. A curt nod came from the Queen.

"If that is what you think should be done, then by all means, it shall be done." She said in response. Her cool gaze going back to the pair before her. "Seize them both. We'll make way for the Cliffs of Bane now.

Suddenly an onslaught of white knights emerged from behind the ruined walls, prying the Black King and Alice apart and tied Stayne's hands behind his back with a simple rope but a firm knot. Though Alice had presented herself as a threat, she was spared from bindings for the time being, only to be escorted by a knight on each arm which was sore from the suspension.

As Alice was dragged past Tarrant, he motioned to touch her in a reassuring manner, but she had flinched away from his hand. It infuriated him, but more so saddened him. He was sure he could mend the damage he had caused, once the true villain was taken care of.

Stayne.

Tarrant's eyes shifted to taken in the once Knave now, and even though he was defenseless at this point, Tarrant could not help but feel intimidated by the look he received from the Red Queen's former henchman. It was truly in his favor that the man would die this day and relief came over him once more.


Stayne knelt in the Crims dungeons, battered and bloodied, a shackle on each wrist. Normally the victims would be forced to stand, however his height allowed him to rest without putting his shoulders through the burden of holding all his weight. Pain was all he knew at this point. Sweet suffering and its release in his sleep, which for him usually only came when his body was pushed past its limits.

The door to his cell slammed open, but he did not bother to look to see his guest. It was the same no matter who it was. A torturer, a servant to feed or clean him, a doctor to tend to his wounds so that he could endure longer. They were all methods of madness, keeping him alive when he wished for death's company days ago.

He wondered if Death was a person, like Time or the Seasons, and if so, why had he, or she, had not come for him yet? Maybe Death was a masochist as well. Enjoying the spectacle Stayne knew as his life. The constant fall of sinking lower and lower, in morals, misery, into suffering and loneliness. If he still had a heart, he was sure gray was its color, for it had nothing to truly live for. Not even revenge.

Only when the guest stood over him did Stayne look up to see who had graced him with their presence. A mix of confusion and relief filled him now.

"My Queen," He rasped, his throat so very sore from the screams he released in his whippings, and other tortures. "What- praytell, brings you to see me today?" He asked, even on his deathbed, he would hope to maintain a snarky tone to his opponents.

Suddenly the Red Queen embraced him, he felt the urge to lurch back, as the hug only made his broken ribs cry out in agony, but he suppressed the pain.

"I need that stupid stable boy to save me again, Ilosovic," Iracebeth whispered. With Stayne here on his knees, they were nearly the same height, only Iracebeth stood taller by about an average head. "My stupid Sister has done it again. She has taken everything from me.

Stayne's eye surveyed her as best as he could in this position. He swore she still wore her crown. He spoke to interject when the Queen began to wail.

"She has taken my Husband! In my Chambers! That little witch gets away with everything, and still the people love her more than me! I don't understand!" Ilosovic did his best not to smile at the situation.

"They are ignorant, my Queen," Stayne spoke with honesty. "They do not know her as well as we do."

Iracebeth nodded quickly, a pair of three's entering the room to release Stayne, helping him to his feet. His wrist greeted the air with stings of pain, but it felt magnificent. Iracebeth wiped the tears from her eyes, no longer holding her subject.

"I want all of Under to know how indecent she is. To do that, we should take those that love her and bring them here to work for me. Then they will see how good I am. They will have jobs to take care of me!"

The idea was one that came from an idiot, but if it kept him from this dungeon, he would pluck birds from their nests and frogs from their pad just for them to serve her tea. Walking from the dungeon Iracebeth kept her nose high up as they passed the king who was being dragged into the very same cell Stayne had just escaped from.

"He'll be executed in the morning, which is when you'll return to your post." The Red Queen said simply, not caring to let the man recover, but once more he didn't care. He would have the chance to recover, as well as other things.

"Your highness," Stayne started. He had to be careful now, he had only just been released after all, and he had no intentions of being back in that position ever again. "Tell me, has there been any developments on that girl from the courtroom...? Alice I believe her name was."

"That dreadful creature?! No… Vanished without a trace, but we'll find her!" Iracebeth said, eyeing him with suspicion. "Why do you ask?" Stayne swallowed hard, trying to find his voice..

"I… I think I would like to lead the search… That girl is a … menace, and should be stopped." He whispered, earning a smile from the woman.

"Very well, my Knave… I will grant you that. I'll give you the task of finding this Alice!" She called, as their ways were split, Stayne being escorted to his quarters again and Iracebeth most likely to engorge herself on some tarts in her royal chambers in self pity.

Crashing down into the sheets, Stayne gasped in pain, but he knew from experience the worst was yet to come. Recovery was sometimes a more painful process, but only because how slow it came on, but it was a necessary pain.

Rolling onto his back, his eye searched the ceiling for answers, but he grew tired of asking questions, he had the rest of his life to do that now. Even as he let a natural sleep take him, his mind kept spinning over two questions.

Who was that Alice girl, and what would he do to repay her kindness...

This chapter may have been the quickest piece I have ever produced, and though it did not go as originally planned I think it came out better, darker. Though it's not distinguished in the writing, I think there is a difference between Tarrant and The Mad Hatter, like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

I've noticed that's a trait of mine in interpreting characters, that everyone has two sides. It was a rush to write this chapter, and I hope that you guys enjoyed reading it. I hope to have the next chapter up soon, but I'm not sure if I can produce it as quickly as I did with this one.

Please tell me what you think guys, and let me know if jumping back and forth from the past to present is too confusing or distracting. Compliments, questions, criticisms, anything to help me improve.

Once again I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I do and as always, thank you for the reviews, follows and favorites!

XO