Author's Note: Well, here we are at the end of Book Two. As much trouble as writing this Book gave me and as much trouble was added during editing, I'm sad to see this part end.
I actually don't have very much to say about this chapter, other than that the last scene was written to purposefully mirror the ending of Book One. So no, that's not déjà vu on your part, it's me being not very subtle with my character development.
Don't forget, just because we've reached the end of Book Two that doesn't mean this story is over. Stay tuned for half a dozen or so chapters that will be posted in The Wonderland Chronicles: Between the Pages. As was the case last time, there's not that much plot advancement in these upcoming chapters; they're more devoted to character development. Part three of this series is entitled Trials of the Plum Queen. I make no guarantees for when it will be out, but hopefully shortly. Until then, this is Rescue from the Outlands, signing off.
Costuming Note: Yes, I did go a bit overboard. Oh well. Remove all spaces.
Dafydd's ring for Regina: dyn- images 2. hsni is/ image/ HomeShoppingNetwork/ 178567 ? $ pd 300 $
Front view of the dress [but purple, not white]: www. craftster pictures/ data/ 500/ medium/ 37479_ Titania. jpg
Back view of the dress: s4. hubimg u/ 886623_ f496. jpg
Crown [but with amythests]: speedy. theanneboleynfiles wp-content/ uploads/ 2011/ 08/ gemstone_ tiara. jpg
For her coronation ball, Regina changes into this.
Dress: 4. bp. blogspot _ FW86_ jO7k_ A/ SczK34jqfBI/ AAAAAAAA7To/ H25kGQsaFfE/ s1600/ Atelier_ Versace_ Spring_ 2009_ 4a. png
Jewelry [just imagine the earrings and bracelets to match this]: www. macklowegallery gallery/ N- 10165. jpg
Special Thanks: Oodles of thanks to my wonderful beta Ranguvar27 for all the hard work done for this Book!
The Cave of Contingency was always a quiet place. Apart from the occasional drip, drip of water seeping down from the ceiling onto the ground, the only sounds came from the two Cats who resided in the Cave. Amazing, then, that although the Cave was so quiet, it was fairly throbbing with tension.
The two Cheshire Cats sat opposite each other on the ground, between the pool of water and the pillar that supported the rip in the Veil. Neither moved, or even blinked; not even Chess' tail was flicking. They stared at each other, gazes unwavering. Chess' eyes were narrowed in disapproval; Witzend remained firmly unrepentant. They were clearly at an impasse, and Underland only knew how the deadlock would be resolved.
When the Cheshire Cat entered the Cave two months ago to find it devoid of his grandkitten, he had only needed the quickest glimpse through the Veil to determine what she had done. He had huffed in agitation; how many times had he told her not to get involved? Cheshire Cats knew all possible outcomes, but it wasn't for them to determine which outcome came to pass. They might occasionally aid a pawn along their path, but they never dictated which path would be taken.
And yet, what had his meddlesome protégé done? She had determined events. Not only for Princess Lily and young Ioan, although her involvement in Lily's future was bad enough. But she had masterminded that meeting in Iplam between Dafydd and Regina, as well. She had been the one to decide that they should be alone when they met, and because of that, a whole host of possibilities would never come to fruition now. Not only that, but because of that kiss- which otherwise might not have happened- what had once been a Flux point was rapidly becoming Fixed.
How much in Underland would change, because Witzend had decided that single Possibility had to become Fact? Had she thought this through, considered every extenuating circumstance that might arise because of this change to the fabric of fate? And if that point became Fixed, what would that mean for Witzend's precious Regina? It could make her life many times more complicated than it otherwise would have been; it would likely bring Regina further grief and pain. Could Witzend live with the consequences of what she'd done?
And yet, when he'd pointed all of this out, Witzend had remained steadfast in her defense of her actions.
"It's not enough to know what's going to unfold," she had argued. "You have to make it come about. That's true Guardianship, guiding Underland to its best possible future."
It was a fine and worthy goal, he was fully willing to readily admit that. But did she truly believe that Fixing Regina's future in this manner was bringing about Underland's best possible future? Or was she merely giving her former mistress what she wanted, simply because she felt obligated to Regina?
He couldn't be sure. And he had run out of Time to evaluate and make up his mind. The Spirit of Underland was waiting; it was Time.
"I can see you're going to be a very different kind of Cheshire," he purred finally, breaking their gaze to look her over.
Fates, she was young; so very young to take this burden on her back. Perhaps she was too young. But what could he do about it? Hadn't he been just as young, when he took over these duties from his aunt? Underland ever belonged to the young, and he was not young anymore.
"It's going to be a very different kind of Underland soon," Witzend replied evenly, her eyes alight with her conviction.
"Indeed," Chesh murmured.
He had no doubt of what Witzend was saying; he'd seen the evidence with his own eyes. The Underland Chess had known was Fading away, piece by piece. Absolem's Fading was only the most visible sign; it was there in other ways. A new generation of Rulers was quickly growing up; soon it would be their turn. It had begun when Alice returned and slew the Jabberwock; it would end… when? Perhaps it would never end; perhaps it had never begun. Perhaps they had always been changing, and perhaps they always would.
Still, it was almost a relief to know that he no longer had to worry about the changes, no longer had to watch all the possibilities and wait for the players to make their moves. As Witzend had said, it was going to be a very different kind of Underland; perhaps it was for the best that she was going to be the one to watch over it.
He nodded slowly; it was Time.
"Before you go..." Witzend said hesitantly, shifting her weight from side to side.
He looked at her, raising an eyebrow as he tilted his head. His grandkitten was normally very outspoken and opinionated; it was rare that she tripped over her own tongue. What could she have to say that would leave her so nervous? Witzend cleared her throat, sitting up straighter.
"I just wanted to say… thank you," she said, inclining her head.
"I?" Chess asked, his eyebrow hiking up further. "I did nothing. You chose your own path; I simply watched you walk it."
A faint grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. An answering grin curled up his own lips, as one eyelid slowly dropped in a wink.
Their gazes locked once again as Chess slowly began to disappear. First his body, leaving only his head and stripes. Then the stripes began to unwind like so many ribbons, and they faded away. Then his head, leaving only his eyes and his grin. Then his eyes vanished, leaving only the famous Cheshire grin. Though she had tried to remain quiet and respectful during this process, at this moment Witzend simply couldn't stop herself from quoting Alice.
"Well! I've often seen a cat without a grin. But a grin without a cat! It's the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!"
Witzend drew a slow breath as Chess' grin disappeared. Nothing visible remained, but suddenly a chill surrounded her, as though she'd been plunged into a fog. There was a soft whoosh, a sudden sucking sensation… And then she shook herself out, blinking down at her body. She was still gray, but her white stripes had turned ice blue. And she felt… looser, less substantial; more like whatever it was that made up Time. She exhaled slowly, getting used to the feeling. Was this how her grandsire had felt all the time? Oh, and her head; it felt like it had been blown up like a balloon, comically large, large enough for Time to have enough room to roam around. Well, this would take some getting used to.
"Right," she muttered to herself. "Might as well begin at once."
With a flick of her tail, the new Cheshire Cat transported herself to the crack in the Veil. Settling herself before the crack, she fixed her attention on Time, and began to watch.
Tarrant had been doing a lot of hiding lately.
He spent long hours in his workshop in the Cerulean Castle, trying to escape his thoughts in the haze of creative Madness. But more often than not, his fingers simply would not obey him; he would begin shaping a hat only to set it down, fiddle with ribbons only to get them hopelessly snarled. The state of his hands weren't to be commented upon; if there was a solitary square inch he hadn't burned, bruised, or snicked with his scissors, he couldn't find it. Alice was decidedly less than pleased with him, although she had very patiently tended to his poor, abused digits.
When Haberdashery had failed, Tarrant had retreated into the study which, though long reserved for his use, was rarely used. He sat down in his leather armchair and listlessly flipped through the pages of his books, unable to make heads or tails of the words on the paper. The silence in the study had bothered him; it wasn't a comfortable sort of silence, like the quiet in his workshop. This was a heavy, brooding silence, absolutely terrible for trying to escape his thoughts. This was a silence for embracing one's brooding, and Tarrant was in absolutely no mood to do that.
He had tried taking Windmare for long rides, and that had actually worked for a while. But he could only be gone for so long before he started to worry Alice and Regina, and he'd promised himself that he wouldn't worry his family with his behavior. So he had smiled and assured his wife and daughter that he was perfectly well, and he had poured them cups of tea and redirected their attention to other matters.
There was nowhere to hide, now. He and Alice had arrived in Crims three days ago. While Alice had immediately gone to Regina to help her make the final preparations for her Queenmaking, Tarrant had hung back, still trying futilely to escape his own mind.
Sighing heavily, Tarrant leaned back in his armchair, listlessly swishing his lukewarm tea around in his cup. Alice had woken up even earlier than usual; she had been dressed and rushing out the door before the sun had even fully risen. Today was Regina's Queenmaking, and Alice was all in a tizzy of excitement about her daughter finally taking her throne.
Tarrant couldn't be quite so enthusiastic. Of course he was happy for his daughter; this was her Fate, and he was sure she would be a wonderful Queen. But he couldn't quite forget the fact that she was becoming the Queen of Crims, taking the title of his greatest enemy. Iracebeth represented the worst and darkest times of his life, and he didn't like the fact that his daughter was becoming part of that legacy.
But even if she weren't about to become the Queen of Hearts, Tarrant would still be upset at the fact that he was losing his only child. She had only been restored to him six months ago, and now he already had to let her go again. She couldn't be his wee little boy anymore; she had her own path to walk now.
He stirred at a knock on the door. At his absent call, the door opened to reveal Dafydd. Tarrant observed the younger man as he walked into the room. Regina wasn't the only one who had been changed by her experience in the Outlands, Tarrant thought; Dafydd had been scarred, as well. He didn't carry physical reminders, as Regina did, but he had the same haunted shadows in his eyes; the weight and guilt hid in his gaze and in the corners of his mouth.
"I rather thought you'd be with Regina this morning," Tarrant observed, motioning for Dafydd to have a seat while Tarrant poured him a cup of tea.
"Clover and Azalea pushed me out," Dafydd admitted, looking down at the table. "They said they had to get Regina ready and it was no place for me to be lurking."
Tarrant's lips quirked upwards in a smile. "Ah yes, women and their unnecessary beauty treatments. We might as well sit and drink this entire pot; we'll neither of us be allowed close."
Dafydd nodded, taking a long sip of his tea. While Tarrant kept his hands busy fixing himself a cup, he kept one eye on his daughter's Champion. Dafydd had come here for a reason, Tarrant knew, and it wasn't simply boredom. If Regina's maids had shooed him off, Dafydd could have gone to the Fearail and prepared them for their day, or he could have gone outside and taken out his frustrations on any of the training dummies. Dafydd had done that yesterday; Tarrant had watched from his window as the younger man tore the dummy to pieces, cursing and screaming the entire time. And yet, Dafydd had come here. No, the younger man had a specific purpose in mind for which he had sought Tarrant out. Tarrant knew that pushing the young man to reveal his purpose for being here would be counterproductive; Dafydd would speak his mind when he was ready and not a moment before. Ah well, Tarrant knew how to be patient; he could wait.
"I'm… I'm sure it's unnecessary to say this, but…" Dafydd swallowed before glancing up at Tarrant. "I can't be your heir in Tearmunn."
"Mmm," Tarrant murmured.
He kept his composure, but Tarrant was exceedingly curious about what Dafydd was saying. It made sense that Dafydd could no longer be the next Laird of Iplam- no, it was Tearmunn now- but why had he brought it up?
"Regina's alive," Dafydd began.
Tarrant knew he should be focusing on what his young relative was saying. But he was distracted- fascinated, really- to see how much lighter Dafydd looked at that simple statement. It was as though the world couldn't be quite as bad as he thought, simply because Regina lived and breathed.
"As long as she's alive, she's your true heir. And…" Dafydd drew a breath, releasing it slowly. "She's taking the White Vow today."
"I see," Tarrant said.
And he did see. He hadn't known his daughter had intended to take the White Vow, but if she did, Dafydd's task as Champion would become that much more difficult. He would never be able to leave her side; he would always have to be there to protect her. Not that either of them had any intention or desire to separate, Tarrant hastened to add to himself. Dafydd clearly worshipped the ground Regina walked on, and she considered him the sun in her sky. No, their place was together, and that couldn't happen if Dafydd was obliged to be in Tearmunn.
"I'm sure your family will be disappointed, my lad," Tarrant said, watching thoughtfully as Dafydd's face closed up again.
Ah. So there it was.
In the two months since the Battle of the Brae, Dafydd hadn't seen his family. Madam Gwynyth had taken charge of the building frenzy in Tearmunn, organizing the construction of the homes, stores, and necessities. Tarrant had traveled to Tearmunn for half of each week to meet with her and supervise. Dafydd, however, had been in Witzend with Regina. In the two months since the battle, he'd not returned to Tearmunn once. Ironic, really, considering how very badly Dafydd had wanted to return to his homeland.
Tarrant knew what Dafydd was doing, and he knew why the young man was hiding away from his family. But Tarrant was well aware that it was counterproductive. What had happened on the Brae was tragic; Tarrant couldn't imagine the amount of guilt Dafydd must be feeling. But hiding from his family and keeping his distance from those he loved couldn't be an appropriate answer either. Had Niall really been so beloved that Dafydd would be vilified and cast off from his family? As Tarrant understood it, Dafydd had been considered a hero of his people ever since he was old enough to wield a sword. Surely everyone in the clan knew that Dafydd had been Mad at the time of Niall's death, and surely they knew Dafydd had had no control over what happened. Didn't isolating himself away from those from whom he craved forgiveness send the wrong message- that Dafydd didn't care anything for his family, was abandoning them in order to follow Regina's star?
Still, it wasn't Tarrant's place to say anything. Yes, as Laird he could order Dafydd to return to Tearmunn, but what good would that do? It would deprive Regina of her Champion and rob Dafydd of the small amount of peace he'd won for himself. How could he betray Dafydd like that, after everything Dafydd had done for Tarrant and Regina?
"I understand," Tarrant nodded, catching the younger man's gaze. "Your place is with Regina."
Tarrant watched as Peace settled over Dafydd's face. He sighed in relief, nodding gratefully.
"Thank you," he said softly.
With an incline of his head, Dafydd stood and withdrew, leaving Tarrant to his thoughts. Alone once again, Tarrant returned to swishing the tea in his cup, a thoughtful look on his face.
He would be sorry to lose Dafydd as his heir; the boy was a proven leader in combat, and Tarrant was sure he had the makings of a fine ruler in peacetime as well. And he enjoyed the boy's company. Dafydd might be quiet and deferential, but he had a quick sense of humor and a sound helping of sense quite remarkable in a world this Mad.
Still, Dafydd's place wasn't in Tearmunn; it was in Crims, with Regina. And while Tarrant might frown at the idea of losing his daughter to the younger man [he might like Dafydd, but he was still an athair, and he still didn't like the idea of his little girl being alone in this castle with a young man and no one to supervise them], he also knew that there was no one in Underland he trusted with Regina more than Dafydd.
Despite it all, he was very happy that his daughter wouldn't be walking the path of Queendom alone. Now Tarrant had only to learn how to let his little girl go…
It was the most important day of Regina's life, but she couldn't help but wish that it was still the night before. She had laid safe and warm in Dafydd's arms, cradled against his chest and sleeping peacefully for the first time since her return from the Outlands. Even when she'd woken in the pre-dawn light, she hadn't moved; she had lain perfectly still, watching Dafydd's sleeping face and wishing they never need leave this sofa. She had wanted to arrest the progressing dawn, freeze this moment and let it last an eternity.
Alas, Clover had intruded on their solitude, bustling in and eyeing Regina and Dafydd askance as they sleepily sat up and disentangled themselves. She had chivvied Dafydd away, leading Regina into the bathroom to be readied for the sacrifice. Every bit of her had been scrubbed, cleaned, sluiced, sloughed, plucked, refined, perfected. Her nails had been buffed, every stray hair removed. Her ginger curls had been arranged in a soft yet complicated updo, soft curling tendrils escaping to frame her face and cascade down her back. And now, finally, Regina stood in the center of the room as Alice removed the protective sheet and revealed her Queenmaking gown.
"Oh," Regina gasped softly, her eyes wide with wonder.
The dress was a dream; Regina was sure that if she blinked, it would disappear. The gown was purple silk, with a fitted, corseted bodice, bare shoulders, and a long, flowing skirt with a generous train. Soft golden gauze floated over the skirt and formed the sleeves, and matching golden embroidery spiraled and curled its way over the bodice.
"Tarrant's outdone himself," Mirana smiled.
"It's so beautiful," Regina sighed.
She stepped forward, walking as though balancing on a tightrope, and reached one hesitant finger forward to stroke the beautiful gown. Moments later, the silken confection whispered to the floor, and an instant after Regina stepped into it, she was being laced in. Slippers were placed on her feet, and she was ready. She stared at herself in the full-length mirror, scarcely able to believe her eyes. Was this her? She didn't recognize herself. She looked ethereal, beautiful, an image from a dream. Could she possibly be real?
Silently, Mirana dismissed Clover and Azalea. She motioned to Alice, and the two Queens withdrew, leaving Regina for a few moments before they descended to the foundation of the castle to enact the Queenmaking.
Regina stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes darting from place to place as she tried to maintain her composure. She could do this… she could do this, right? Oh Fates, she couldn't do this… She wasn't a Queen. She was barely even a Princess; she wasn't ready for this! She was going to fail, and Crims would fall to ruin and it would be all her fault…
"Breathe."
She gasped, jumping, but she relaxed as soon as she caught sight of Dafydd in the mirror. He must have made use of the secret passageways honeycombed throughout the palace; only the two of them knew that one of the doors to the passageway system was in her bedroom. She turned to face him, biting her lip as he stared at her.
"You look beautiful," he managed a moment later, his voice hoarse.
She blushed, ducking her head. "Thank you."
"I got you something," Dafydd said, walking forward.
She looked up at him as he withdrew something from his pocket. He took her hand, opening his fingers to reveal the little treasure. Regina gasped, staring at it. It was a silver ring, a thick band with heavy etching. The ring bore a solitary stone of a deep purple, polished to a high shine; a small silver butterfly lay on the lower right of the stone.
"It's beautiful," she breathed.
"I know I can't help you through your Queenmaking," Dafydd said, holding her fingers in his. "But I just wanted you to know I'm here with you."
The breath was knocked out of her body as he slid the ring onto the ring finger of her left hand. Her gaze shot up to his; did he understand what it meant, placing the ring on that finger? He was from Wonderland, and she knew they had no custom of wedding rings, but he had spent enough time around Alice and Tarrant, both of whom wore bands because Tarrant had loved the idea… Did he know what it meant, when a man put a ring on a lady's finger? No, he couldn't possibly know. But the look in his eyes… She wanted it to be real, she realized. Even if Dafydd didn't know the Uplandish engagement customs, Regina did, and oh, how she wished this was real. Ironic, for the Queen of Hearts to have lost her own.
Maybe it was meaningless to him, but it meant a great deal to her. She was Promised now, as far as she was concerned. He'd said that he was hers; well, she was his, and this ring was the symbol and proof of that. They belonged to each other, now and forever. She didn't want any other to stand beside her, or to wear the King's crown.
But…
"Dafydd? Will your Betrothed be here?"
For a moment, Dafydd wasn't even aware that she'd spoken. He was too caught up staring into her eyes; staring, fascinated, as they changed color. He had never seen them turn golden before; the sickly, angry topaz of Madness, yes, but never this bright, glittering golden color. What emotion could that be? He needed to know; her eyes looked beautiful, he wanted to make them stay like this…
The first indication that Regina had spoken was that her eyes dimmed from that glorious shade of golden yellow. He could still see flecks of gold in her irises, but they were fading; they weren't even her usual shade of spring green, but fading to that horrible, hateful shade of mottled gray-green. He hated seeing her sad… Wait. What had made her so unhappy, and how did he fix it [and hopefully make her eyes go golden again]?
Then the words she'd spoken made it through his ears and burrowed into his brain, chasing each other around until they coalesced and found some form of meaning. Even when he'd sussed out what she'd said, though, it made no sense. What in the name of blessed Underland…?
"I'm not Betrothed," he said, frowning.
Regina's brow furrowed in confusion. "But I thought… Niall said… He told me you'd been Betrothed, to Afanen."
Dafydd blinked, his confusion only worsening. Niall had told Regina that Dafydd was Betrothed? Why in all the blessed lands of Underland would he tell her about that? His Betrothal had been over years ago; Niall had been the one to formally dissolve it. And thank heavens, too. The Nazari mated for life; their hearts, once lost, were gone forever. Thank the Fates that Dafydd hadn't actually loved Afanen, as he'd once thought; if he did, he never would have been able to leave her, and then he never would have met Regina.
But why in Absolem's name would Niall bring up Afanen? And, perhaps more importantly, why did Regina care? Did this mean that she cared for him? Or was she trying to get rid of him?
"I was," he admitted, lacing their fingers together. "But it was broken off, long before I even came to Underland."
"Oh," Regina said, blushing. "So you… you don't love her?"
Oh goodness, that had been terribly forward of her. It certainly wasn't her business if Dafydd still had feelings for his former Betrothed. Except it was of the utmost importance to her that Afanen was firmly in the past; she didn't care to vie with any rivals, however long ago they may have held Dafydd's affections.
Dafydd shook his head, slightly dizzy from Regina's kaleidoscopic eyes. "No. I don't love her. I never did. She's not coming to Court; she can stay and rot in Tearmunn, for all I care."
"Oh," Regina said softly. "That's… that's good."
He nodded slowly, hardly sure of what he was agreeing to. He thought he could be forgiven for his mental distraction; somehow his fingers had slipped from hers, and they stood in a loose embrace, his hands on her waist while hers rested on his chest. Her head had tilted back, and if he shifted only a little, lowered his head only a few inches…
"Regina?"
They gasped and jumped, the alien voice slicing through the private bubble they'd been inhabiting and forcefully grounding them once again in the world. They hastily, awkwardly stepped away from each other, Regina blushing deeply while Dafydd cleared his throat. Alice's eyes swept from one to the other as one delicate eyebrow rose in suspicion.
"It's Time, sweetheart," she said.
Regina nodded, drawing a shaky breath. Dafydd lifted Regina's hand- her left hand- placing a soft kiss to the ring he'd slipped on her finger. Her cheeks flamed once again as he released her hand and withdrew, walking down the hallway and leaving Alice and Regina alone.
Alice said nothing, instead silently scrutinizing her daughter. Under her mother's gaze, Regina flushed, her gaze dropping to her hands- more specifically, to the ring now weighing down her finger. Alice's gaze followed Regina's, and she stared at the ring, her mind reeling. Was that… was it possible that Regina…?
"Congratulations, darling," Alice managed to choke out, stepping forwards.
"Wha-? Oh. Oh, no, Mama," Regina stammered, clenching her fist and hiding it in her skirt. "It's not what you think. I'm not… We're not engaged," she forced herself to say. "Dafydd doesn't think of me in that way."
"Are you sure?" Alice asked, with her customary tact and discretion. "He couldn't take his eyes off you."
Regina's cheeks flamed, but she shook her head regretfully. "He just wanted me to know he would be with me through the Queenmaking, that's all."
Alice raised a silent eyebrow. She knew that Regina was an innocent- after all, her daughter had been raised in the Upland, and by Lady Ascot no less. It was entirely possible that Regina had no comprehension of what young men were like when they were in love. Fates, Alice had spent five years after her adventures dithering about whether or not Tarrant harbored affections for her.
But on the other hand, Regina absolutely adored love stories. The doomed romances of Antony and Cleopatra or Lancelot and Guinevere, the absolute partnership of Albert and Victoria or Justinian and Theodora. For a girl who so adored romances, she seemed to be completely oblivious to her own. Could Regina truly not see how hopelessly besotted Dafydd was?
Still, if Regina couldn't see it, it wasn't Alice's place to point it out. Alice wouldn't have appreciated anyone intruding on her relationship with Tarrant, and she was well aware that this was one of the areas in which mother and daughter were the same. Regina had plenty of time to work this puzzle out for herself.
"Yes, well," Alice finally said. "At any rate, it's time."
Regina nodded, drawing a deep breath. "Mama? Will you… will you walk me there?"
Alice smiled, walking forward and weaving her arm through her daughter's. "Of course I will."
Regina smiled tremulously, leaning on Alice as they walked out the door and down the hall. For a few moments, all was silent save for the swishing of their skirts and the soft click of their heels on the parquet floors. Regina glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye. They hadn't discussed the Outlands yet. Perhaps they never would. But before Regina went through this Queenmaking, she wanted to at least acknowledge that it had happened, that Alice had been there when Regina had given up hoping that she would ever matter to her mother.
"I never thanked you, for going into the Outlands to find me," she said softly.
"Of course I went," Alice said, halting them to look Regina squarely in the face. "I know I haven't been the greatest mother in either world, but you are my daughter. I lost you once, Regina, and I should have done something about it then. I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she said regretfully. "I lost my chance to be your mathair; I let you slip through my fingers."
Regina bit her lip. She hadn't intended to open that particular can of worms. She and Alice had come to an uneasy truce concerning the topic of Regina's abduction into the Aboveground, and Regina hadn't especially wanted to reopen the issue. However, now that they'd brought it up…
How exactly did Regina feel about that situation now? Did she still resent the fact that she'd been taken away from her homeland and abandoned in a foreign world? Yes. She probably always would harbor some anger about that. But did she still blame Alice for not rescuing her? Was it really Alice's fault? Underland Herself had decreed that Regina must be taken away; how could Alice fight against the Spirit of Underland? And Alice had gone Mad after losing her daughter; it wasn't as though she had continued living as if nothing had changed. Her entire life had been ruined, too. And as distant and hesitant as Alice had been upon Regina's return home, Regina hadn't been any better, had she? She had laid so much blame on Alice's shoulders, when in fact Alice was just as much a victim as Regina had been…
"I may not have need of a Mummy to guide and protect me," Regina said hesitantly, shyly looking up at Alice. "But I have great need of you. I need my Mama."
"I'm here," Alice immediately said. "I'm right here."
Regina closed her eyes against the tears as she melted into Alice's embrace. Oh, finally…
She had always wondered what it would be like, to be held safe in her mother's arms. She had never thought it would be possible; she had given up, thought that given her and Alice's temperaments they would never be more than distant acquaintances. But now, cradled in her mother's love… perhaps they could forge a loving relationship, after all.
"Come on, sweetheart," Alice murmured, kissing Regina's forehead. "We're late."
Regina's lips quirked in amusement. "The ceremony can't start without me."
Though she was ecstatic to have her mama there, as they walked down the hallway towards her destiny Regina was seized with an intense wish to have Dafydd with her. With every step, Regina's heart beat a little faster, her pulse roared in her ears, and her breath grew a little shakier. Could she do this? She had been preparing for months, but was it enough? Was she ready? Would Underland accept her? Or would she be obliterated for attempting a Queenmaking when she wasn't ready?
Regina swallowed hard as they paused before the double doors that would open into the depths of the castle. She closed her eyes, drawing a shaky breath and clenching her left hand in a fist, feeling Dafydd's ring on her finger. He was waiting for her behind those doors; he would give her the strength to get through this.
With a deep breath, Regina let go of Alice, and pushed open the double doors to meet her fate.
Considering how important the Queenmaking ceremony was, it was somewhat surprising to realize that it was taking place in the deepest point of the castle. The chamber was small, with barely enough room to fit the six people allowed to be present. The room was utterly empty, apart from the large cornerstone that jutted out from the rest of the wall, and the large, arched Door which had stood on this spot for as long as Crims had been a country. Regina had already passed through the Door once before, when she was introduced to the Heart; when construction had begun on the castle, Regina had ordered that the cornerstone be laid and the entire castle be built around the Door.
Regina had no attention to spare for the three other Queens who stood in the room, and after a long glance her attention was diverted even from Dafydd. All of her focus transferred to the last figure in the room. He was ancient; tall, but stooped with age. His hair and beard were both snow white, and fell to his knees. He dressed in elaborate floor-length robes, and leaned his weight on his carved staff. His eyes were covered with a white film; the man was blind to everything but keys and locks. This was the Keymaster, the Guardian of the Doors.
"Well now," he said in his wizened voice. "The new Queen, is it?"
"Yes, sir," Regina said uneasily.
"Well, we'll let the Heart have a look at you and decide if She'll take you," the Keymaster nodded.
The old man reached into a leather pouch at his waist, withdrawing a single brass key. Turning, he bent over, fitting the key into the lock and opening the Door. Regina shivered as a chill gust of wind blew out of the Door; surely that was a little melodramatic? The Keymaster turned back around, placing the key into Regina's hand.
"Guard it well," he said solemnly, before motioning her towards the Door.
Regina closed her fingers around the key, her breath catching in her throat as she stared into the blackness beyond the threshold. This was it; it was Time. She glanced to her right, catching Dafydd's gaze. One corner of his mouth quirked in a smile; she clenched her fist again, focusing on the weight of his ring. Then she nodded, and stepped through the Door, which slammed shut behind her.
Mine mine mine you have returned to me…
Yours… I am here…
You are Mine…
I am Yours…
You are my Heart…
You are Mine…
Yours…
Always Yours…
Don't leave Me…
Never…
My Heart…
Mine…
She gasped as a great rush of wind pushed her backwards, forcing her out of the absolute blackness and back into the light. She tripped, falling backwards, breathless and sightless; she dragged in a lungful of air as she was caught by strong, familiar arms. The Door slammed Itself shut, and all was quiet.
"Is it over?" Regina asked breathlessly, shaking in Dafydd's arms.
"It's done," Mirana nodded as Dafydd steadied Regina on her feet.
Regina raised a hand to place on her head, but her fingers brushed against cool metal and smooth stone. Eyes widening, she plucked the crown from her head and stared at it. It was made of gold, with large oval amethysts. It was beautiful; everything she could have dreamed of in a crown. Reverently, she set it back on her head, reveling in its weight. By the Flowers, she was a Queen.
"Congratulations, my dear," Mirana said, stepping forward to hug Regina.
Regina smiled as she hugged her aunt. She couldn't believe it; she'd done it. Now there was only one thing left…
Drawing a deep breath, Regina stepped away from Mirana. "In the presence of my fellow Queens and before the Heart of Crims and the Spirit of Underland, I, Regina of Crims, hereby take the White Vow," she said formally. "I vow never to harm any living creature. I choose a bloodless path."
Regina gauged her fellow Queens' reactions to her announcement. Queen Lamia nodded her encouragement; Queen Alice appeared surprised; Queen Mirana beamed serenely. Regina closed her eyes, raising her hands as she felt the air becoming heavy with a Presence. The others felt it, she knew; how could the Queens help but be aware of the Spirit of Underland?
Regina opened her eyes, watching in uneasy fascination as droplets of red appeared on her palms. She swallowed, fighting back her nausea as she stared at the blood, knowing it to be not her own. It was Taran's blood, Stayne's blood, and Underland was leaching it from her hands. Finally, the blood flew off her hands, coalescing into a ball midair before shimmering and disappearing with a soft pop. Then a soft breeze curled through the windowless room, a whispered voice echoing through the air.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU DO, SHE OF CRIMS? STRONGER QUEENS THAN YOU HAVE BEEN KILLED BECAUSE OF TAKING THIS VOW, OR FOUND THEMSELVES UNABLE TO RULE EFFECTIVELY. KNOWING THIS, DO YOU STILL WISH TO MAKE THIS VOW, WHICH CAN NEVER BE UNDONE?
"I understand," Regina said faintly. "And I am certain."
SO BE IT. WHO STANDS TO PROTECT THE QUEEN OF CRIMS?
"I do," Dafydd said, his voice hoarse as he stepped forward to stand beside Regina.
DO YOU ACCEPT THIS CHAMPION, SHE OF CRIMS?
"I do," Regina replied, slipping her hand into Dafydd's.
SO BE IT. BE THEN BOUND, EACH TO THE OTHER, TO STAND TOGETHER IN ALL THINGS AND AT ALL TIMES. MAY HE PROTECT HER UNTO DEATH; MAY SHE NEVER GIVE HIM NEED TO DEFEND HER.
They walked through the silent marble halls of Isla Affalin, he keeping one step behind her. The only sounds were the soft swish of her skirts, and their shoes clicking gently against the white marble floor. The hall was dim, lit only by starlight and a periodic brace of candles on the wall, but that didn't bother her; she didn't need much light to find her way down to the grand ballroom.
If she closed her eyes, Regina could almost imagine that she was in Marmoreal, walking towards the ball that would officially re-introduce her to Underland as the Azure Princess of Witzend. But she wasn't in Marmoreal, and she would never answer to that title again. She was in her own land, and she was a Queen.
Leferidae had spared no expense for her inaugural ball, she understood. There were decorations, live butterflies fluttering overhead, and an orchestra who would play all evening long. There would be dancing until the midnight supper, and then more dancing until dawn. This was to be Regina's official introduction to her Court, and Leferidae wanted to ensure that it would be a smashing success. She had gratefully left him to it; Regina herself had spent the day at the mercy of Arianrhod Hightopp, her clanswoman and new Court Clothier.
At least she was a vision of beauty, she thought idly. She regretted that she'd had to change out of her absolutely beautiful Queenmaking dress, but at least the ball gown Arianrhod had designed was almost as beautiful. The dress was violet of course, one-shouldered, clinging to her torso and thighs before flaring out at her knees in an explosion of soft ruffles; each ruffle was edged with a wide ribbon of sky blue. The gown had been paired with an abundance of sparkle- a confection of silver swirls and curlicues, studded with amethysts, around her neck, with matching bracelets around each wrist and in her ears, all of it complementing yet somehow diminished against her crown. And the crown, in turn, dimmed in importance when compared to the ring she still proudly wore on her finger. Regina scarcely recognized herself, and yet this was absolutely herself; this was the destiny she had been moving towards her entire life.
The ball had already begun, she knew. Leferidae wanted her entrance to be a spectacle; he wanted everyone- all the guests from the other queendoms, and the members of Regina's new Court- to be stunned by her entrance. Hence the silence of the halls she walked through; everyone was already in the ballroom, waiting for her.
She came to a stop outside the double doors, anxiety and anticipation warring in her veins. Behind those doors was her future; the next chapter in a life that was so far removed from who she had been half a year ago that she wondered if she had somehow fallen into someone else's existence. What new adventures waited for her behind these doors? Would she succeed as a Queen? Did her future shine as brightly as it had six months ago?
She jerked out of her ruminations as gentle fingers slid beneath her chin. Her head was gently turned, and she found herself looking into Dafydd's eyes, drawing strength from his faint smile and his commanding presence.
"Breathe, dearbadan-de," he whispered. "Everything's going to be alright."
She smiled at him faintly and nodded. Yes, he was right. Everything would be alright; they would make everything alright. She lifted her head until her chin was parallel with the floor. Whatever awaited her, she wouldn't find it by cowering behind closed doors. She was the daughter of the Blue Queen and Sapphire King of Witzend, the niece of the High Queen of Underland. She was the daughter of two Champions, and had been a Champion herself. It had never been in her to back down from a challenge, and it never would be. Her muchness wouldn't allow it.
Nodding to her Fearail guards to open the doors, she lifted her skirts and stepped forwards as her Royal Page, a Labrador named Wagtail, presented her.
"Announcing Her Majesty Regina Miraget Praecordia, the Plum Queen of Crims! And His Grace the Queen's Champion, the Duke of Annwyn."
She paused on the balcony inside the doors as the entire room bowed or curtsied to her. When they rose, she dipped into a graceful curtsey before descending down the grand staircase.
As she reached the floor, Leferidae signaled to the musicians. Her smile growing, Regina walked to the dance floor. She knew what the guests were expecting of her. They wanted to see her dancing with a Prince or a Duke, or even one of her Council members; anyone to announce who she might consider to be her King. And Regina had an answer for them.
Smiling prettily, Regina dipped into a curtsey, extending one hand in command to Dafydd.
They had argued about this all afternoon, as they prepared for the ball. Dafydd had insisted that his place as her Champion was to stand in the background, on the alert for threats to her safety. Tonight was a prime moment for a would-be assassin to attack her; how could Dafydd intercept any potential enemies if he was reduced to being a guest at the ball? Regina had glared and said that yes, he was her Champion, sworn to protect her from all enemies, and that included people she didn't want to dance with. He had rolled his eyes, but he couldn't argue with her logic, and so here he stood, armed only with a number of throwing daggers hidden on his person as he swept Regina off into a waltz.
The dance was a powerful political message, one understood by everyone in the ballroom. Woe to any man who would wish to court the Plum Queen; to win her heart he first had to pass the approval of her Outlandish Champion.
This, at least, was the message that most of the guests digested. A few people, however, gleaned entirely different ideas from this dance. Across the ballroom, the gaze of the White Queen of Marmoreal caught that of the Blue Queen and Sapphire King of Witzend. Gazes met, information was exchanged, slight nods given in agreement as each drew the same conclusion.
It had been made perfectly clear earlier in the day, when Dafydd had made his Champion's Vow. Not that he had made any gestures, or said anything untoward. No, to all eyes the ceremony had been perfectly normal. But there had been a Look in the young Hightopp's eyes, some sort of strange connection and understanding that shimmered between the Champion and his Queen. That he was hers, that she was his… Why, they hadn't needed the Vow at all; they were Bonded more thoroughly than Mirana had ever seen.
That same sense of bonding was present now, as they danced. Goodness, they couldn't take their eyes off each other; they scarcely needed the music, so in tune with each other they were. The slightest touch, the faintest push, and they moved as perfectly as though they were melded together.
Did they realize it? Did they understand what they had entered into? Somehow, Mirana didn't think so. They were Bonded, assuredly, but they had no formal understanding; they had not declared themselves, but they Knew, as surely as Mirana knew herself to be Bound to Kalen.
As she watched them dance, though, she revised her opinion. Regina may not yet understand, but Dafydd surely did. He might try to deny to himself, might attempt to step back and be content with the bond of Queen to Champion… but deep down, he Knew. And judging by the look on his face as he guided Regina through the steps of the dance, he would wait an eternity; however long it took, until he held her by right instead of duty. The newly-crowned Plum Queen may have given the message that any would-be suitors would have to first pass through her Champion. The newly-titled Duke of Annwyn, however, was sending a different message altogether. Well, not so much a message as a warning to any who would try to take her away from him. She was his, and he was hers, and woe to he who tried to rip them apart.
How did Alice and Tarrant feel about that, Mirana wondered. They had only recently been given their daughter back; how did it feel to know that there was only so long they would have before they lost her again?
The dance ended slowly, the musicians as unwilling to stop playing as the lone couple on the dance floor was to stop moving together. However, eventually the dance did have to end. Dafydd and Regina stood looking at each other, bound by the music and their own magnetic gazes. He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to the ring he'd placed on her finger, before he walked away. Other couples flitted out to the dance floor, and Regina immediately appropriated the hand of her leonine Guardian before anyone else could ask for her hand.
From that moment on, Regina didn't sit once all night. Count after Duke after Lord led her out to dance, each wanting their turn to impress the new Queen. Regina moved blissfully through it all, enjoying a night of celebration. Tomorrow the work would begin; tomorrow would come the challenges and trials of queenship. For tonight, though, she need only dance.
Slowly, people came to bow to Regina and withdraw for the evening. The night wore on, and the crowd began to thin out as more and more people withdrew to their beds. Finally, Regina and Dafydd stood alone in the ballroom, standing at one of the towering windows and staring out into the pre-dawn light.
"I almost wish the day wouldn't come," Regina sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Everything's so perfect tonight, and I'm so afraid that when it's time to stop celebrating and start actually being a queen I'll be such a disappointment-"
Dafydd laid a finger over her lips, stemming the flow of words. When she lifted her gaze to his, she shivered at the intensity of his focused gaze.
"Don't say another word like that," he admonished her. "You aren't going to fail. You're going to be brilliant." Slowly, he lowered his hand, smiling faintly. "And if you're going to keep doubting yourself, I'll just have to spin you around in circles until you can't think anymore."
She let loose a startled laugh as he grabbed her hand, jogging to the center of the ballroom and spinning her about before she had time to think of protesting. Her laughter increased as he whipped her around, spinning her into a lively, dizzying waltz, moving her so quickly she had no time to focus on anything other than keeping up with him. Their laughter mingled and floated up, soaring towards the ceiling as the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon and illuminated the castle and the countryside.