Author's note:

I have returned once more! And you know, DruidArcher, it's not very nice to set off stink bombs in anyone's office, especially Snape's. He is one of the bravest, kindest, gentlest, sexiest men I know. (That was a quote, I'm not sure I agree in all that…)

12. Questions and Answerers

Sometimes Alice missed the dull society life she'd left behind, but then her family would cheer her up; Isabel with one of her creations, she'd inherited her father's skills, or Tarrant would cheer her up merely by entering the room and smiling at her. Well, merely wasn't the word when it came to anything related to Tarrant, but it was the best word Alice could think of. The hustle and bustle of planning a wedding was somewhat of a surprise to her; when Margaret got married, things went on much smoother. It was probably due to the many differences between Underland and London. When Alice asked Mirana of the rites, the Queen only smiled and told her it was a secret.

"Mirana." Alice kept on asking. "Why is it some can't live in Underland?"

Her friend paused in her tracks a moment, thinking of what to answer. "I'm not sure." she finally said. "I think the Alice's are the only who could live here."

"The Alice's, as in several of them?" Now Alice, too, stopped.

"Yes. There have been a few of them, five, counting you, if my memory is correct."

"But what happened to the other Alice's?"

Mirana didn't answer at once, instead she bent slightly to listen to what the roses had to say. After a pause so long Alice was beginning to think her question would be left unanswered, the Queen spoke again: "They died."

"Died?" Alice cried. "How?"

"The Jabberwocky has haunted Underland longer than you think, Alice. It has been around since the dawn of our land. All the Alice's were thought to be the right, proper one, but they failed in their quest, sending a new time of horrors upon us." There was a brief paus. "Their paintings still hang in the castle. I could show them to you if you'd like."

"I would like that."

"Then follow me."

If you were to throw a glance at the paintings, you would think they were all of the same girl; blonde, blue eyes and a determined expression. But if you were to look closer, you'd notice the many differences. The Alice's was all different ages; the oldest with greying hair, the youngest still merely a child, less than fifteen years old. One of the Alice's wasn't even an Alice, it was an Alexis, but he'd been one of the Alice's nevertheless. And if you looked even closer, you would notice someone standing in the background; a man, or, in Alexis case, a woman, all of which wearing hats on vibrantly coloured hair.

"Ah, the Hatters." Mirana explained.

"There was Hatters as well?" Alice asked.

"Of course there was; someone willing to help the Alice if she, or he, lost her muchness. They were… destined for each other, one way or another."

"What happened to the Hatters?"

"When the Alice died, the Hatter would fall into the madness, and, eventually, die. The love betwixt the two were too strong for the survivor to carry on with his, or hers, life."

Alice realised she'd started crying, and wiped her cheeks with an embarrassed face. "So if I had died during the great battle, so would Tarrant?"

"Yes, I'm afraid of that."

"At least then I wouldn't have this wedding to worry for, would I?" Alice joked.

"No, you wouldn't. Just be patient, Alice, this is the way weddings are arranged in Underland. The bride mustn't know anything of the preparations."

"But why?"

"It is bad luck. No more of this now, I must get back to business."

Tarrant enjoyed himself when he could use his hands to create something; the excitement lay in not knowing exactly what it would turn out to be. Sometimes, he had thought he was making a hat, only to find it being a doll when he had finished it. The doll had worn an expression similar the Chessur's, and it had freaked Tarrant so much it'd ended up in the trash bin. There it had been found by one of Bayard's offspring's, and the current whereabouts of the doll was known by none. But now, Tarrant had to make sure his creation would turn out as a dress, there was no time for mistakes.

"Blue…" he mumbled, frantically searching the pile of blue fabrics, apparently, none of them was good enough. Not for Alice. "Why isn't there any blue?"

"There's lots of blue." Chessur pointed out.

"Yes, yes, of course. But none is the right one; the right, proper Alice-blue."

"I thought you had lots of Alice-blue?"

"Ah, yes. But where?" Tarrant scratched his orange head, rummaging the next pile; perhaps the blue had sneaked into the reds, that could very well happen.

Chessur gave up a sigh. "Is this what you're looking for?" He flicked his tail towards the workbench, where, indeed, a roll of Alice-blue lay.

"Chess, do you have any idea why a raven is lake a writing desk?"

The cat gave up; Tarrant would have to make the dress by himself.

Mirana had finally found what she had been looking for; an old, rusty medallion; the only thing that was left of her beloved. She slowly opened it, pulling a face at the loud creaking coming from it. The picture inside it was yellowed with age and covered into dust; she could hardly make out the picture anymore. She didn't really have to look at the picture to remember Him, he would constantly be on her mind, ever to the day she died, or longer…

"He wouldn't remember me…" she sighed.

"Who wouldn't remember you?" Isabel had sneaked up behind her, partly because she was bored, partly because she liked the Queen. "Him?" she added, pointing at the picture.

"Yes, him. His time has passed in your world." the Queen answered without looking at the girl.

"Who is he?"

With the ghost of a smile, Mirana whispered the name she'd decided on never speaking again.

Author's note:

I'm not telling you who the pirate is. It's a secret I'll be keeping till this story is done. I'll probably be writing a prequel, about Mirana and her long lost love, and it's more fun if you don't know exactly who he was. Now, as the Swedish Tigger would say: HDSL! Hejdå så länge!