Author's note:

Last chapter, I was in a morbid mode due to reasons unknown to anyone in the world. Even Voldemort himself doesn't have a clue, even though I'm not sure why he'd know anyway…

16. Unbirthday Wish

Alice tiredly rubbed her eyes, fighting to stay awake. She had been up all night, keeping Tarrant safe from himself; the madness tended to make him a tad violent, mostly towards himself. Still yawning and squinting, Alice inspected her wrist. Tarrant had harshly grabbed it at a point, and now there was a pattern of bluish bruises, dully throbbing, on her hand and arm. True; Tarrant wasn't himself, and it could have been much worse, but Alice still had a big lump in her throat, coarse sobs threatening to escape any minute. Tarrant shifted nervously in his sleep, muttering in outlandish.

"Take it easy, Tarrant. There's no danger here." Alice whispered, stroking his cheek until he relaxed again.

Sighing shakily, Alice buried her face in her hands, much to hide the fact she was crying. She didn't want Tarrant to suddenly wake up and see her crying. If he knew he'd made her cry, he would be sure to plunge right back into the madness. Life was complicated…

"Down with the bloody red queen!" Tarrant roared, jolting to a sitting position, eyes flaming with mad fury.

"It's only a bad dream." a voice, filled with horror and concern, cried, cold hands trying to push him back down.

"Who are you?" Tarrant howled, grabbing onto a pillow, concealing himself with it. "What do you want with me?"

"It's me, Alice." there was a shiver in the stranger's voice now.

How dared this stranger call herself Alice? Alice was dead, gone, no more. Sure; this girl looked like her, but she was crying, the real Alice didn't cry, ever. Tarrant glared at the little imposer, wishing looks could kill.

"You are not Alice. Alice was killed by the red queen." he snarled.

"Don't- It's a dream-" the poser stuttered, feigned tears streaming down her cheeks. She was good at pretence, he'd admit that.

"Get out." he spit, fist clutched. When the stranger didn't leave, he roared at her; "Get out! Get out of here you- you-" he struggled to find an insult bad enough. "You no-good, guddler's scuttish, pilgar lickering, shukum juggling, slurping urpal, bar lom much, egg brimni!"

"No, that's just stupid, I don't-" the rest of Mally's argument was drenched in loud, outlandish yelling. Tarrant… She bode the white lily Fairfarren before scattering towards the palace.

"You won't get away from answering my question that easy! You'll have to tell me sooner or later!"

In your dreams…

There was no way Mally would admit it to anyone, she hardly even admitted it to herself, and she would definitely never tell a stupid flower. Sliding over the marble floor, aiming for a large crack in the wall, she hit something. Something soft, something furry, something with a big, wicked grin. Chessur.

"Move it, cat! I'm in a hurry!" Mally cried, struggling herself back onto her paws.

"My, my, I daresay that's offensive." Chessur purred. "Can't more than one of us be in a hurry?"

"No."

He chuckled, casually proceeding to groom his fur. "Go on then, Mally. Go save Tarrant, he's the only thing you care for anyhow." there was a shatter of sorrow in his voice; as though he didn't want Mally to go at all.

"I don't care just for Tarrant." Mally whispered. "I- I care for you, Chess. A lot. But I have to help our friend, and if you can't understand that-" she turned her back at Chessur and ran.

Chessur grinned proudly at the disappearing dormouse. Gods, he was persuasive, making Mally run to save someone she didn't even like, and almost making her admit her feelings, and all in just three single sentences.

"I really should have been crowned king, I'm so carismatic..." he purred, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Isabel had no idea what had happened over the night; the previous evening, everything had been perfect, and now…all was ruined. And what was worse; she wasn't allowed to go see her own father! Her father. She, and mum, of course, should be the ones to look after him; but they'd been ordered to stay away from him.

It's unfair!

Frowning, Isabel irritably clomped back and forth in her room, kicking things out of her way.

"Isabel, don't do that." Alice sighed, following in the child's tracks, placing the kicked things at their original position. "Your father won't get better by you kicking your things all around the palace."

This was, Isabel decided, an unfair statement. She was only kicking them in her room… And not kicking them wouldn't help him either, but it helped her to hold the tears back.

"Stop it." Alice snapped, promptly lifting her daughter, holding her above the floor, out of reach of all kickable possessions of hers. "Please."

Isabel kicked at her, attempting to at least cause bruises on her skins, wailing; "Let me down!"

"Not until you promise to behave."

"I'll never promise anything." Isabel yelled, still in her clutches. "It's your fault daddy's ill! I never had a father, and now he's going away, all because of you, and all you can think about is my shukum things! I'm in a rage!" she cried, clawing and punching at her defenceless mother.

"Isabel, I-" Alice begun.

"Don't say you understand! You don't understand! You had a father, just like all the other children!" finally having wrestled her way down, she added; "I wish you weren't my mother."

There was a flash of bright light and then, nothing.

Author's note:

Yeah, sort of a shortie today. I couldn't really concentrate, because House M.D is finally returning to Swedish television. Today! And, if you were wondering, we are currently at the episode with the bull fighter. That's season... seven? I'm not sure.