Alice at Last

Chapter One

Summary: Mirana of Marmoreal has been waiting for a champion. Perhaps Alice Kingsleigh can provide her with that and a bit more.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alice in Wonderland or any of its plots and characters. This is simply for entertainment purposes. All rights belong to Tim Burton, Lewis Carol, and Disney.

The White Queen. Younger sister of the Red Queen, Iracebeth. Mirana of Marmoreal. She was sitting on her throne, staring blankly into space, completely lost in her thoughts. Her hands fidgeted however, with nervousness or simple boredom, she was unable to tell, eventually concluding that it was a simple concoction of the two. What time was it? How long has it been? Right. Time was no longer a thing in Underland. It had stopped when Iracebeth had dawned the crown on her head. A single hand clenched into a fist as the monarch relived that horrid experience once again, the purple electricity of the Jabberwocky filling her mind, causing an unpleasant shudder to rush through her. Damn her. Damn her to the Outlands of Underland. If only that was enough punishment for what she had done throughout her tyranny. If only. But not even torture or death would suffice, would barely be enough to equal her actions.

Mirana absentmindedly traced an old scar on her arm above the silk that covered it. She wanted to forgive her sister for being the reason to such a deep cut but she had done it with a purely malicious intent that something about it made her refuse to bring herself to it. Not that she would ever admit that of course. She loved her sister. But resented her at the same time. Resentment. Who would ever think that would be a word in the White Queen's vocabulary. Resentment. The word was bitter in her mouth. Iracebeth, tyrant or not, was still her big sister. She always had looked up to her, especially when they were children. But when she changed… Something inside Mirana had broke and all she wanted was to get the love of her big sister back. The sister who held her when she was frightened, held her when she was upset, loved her unconditionally. But that was gone and this was reality. Cruel, bitter, saddening, but reality.

It was a month until Frabjuous Day. But Underland didn't go by months. No such thing existed. Time came and time went. It didn't follow any logic pattern. They calculated only by days and even then, now that time had stopped entirely, there wasn't a way to truly keep track. The Oraculum told what was to occur in the future but dates weren't a thing. But Mirana knew. She knew that Frabjuous Day was approaching. And she knew that she needed a champion. Iracebeth had hers. But Mirana no longer possessed the only thing that could kill the creature. Iracebeth had claimed that the day she claimed the crown.

One thing tied to another. She needed the Vorpal Sword but she also needed her champion. And as time continued while remaining still, she became more worried and impatient.

Each day, she would ask herself who this champion would be. Perhaps a man, woman. Hell, maybe it would be an animal for all she knew. And she wondered if she would know before the champion arrived. She hoped to at least welcome the very person who would ultimately risk their life for her crown. That was the least she could do, especially if the ultimate end was death. She knew the fate of the Jabberwocky. She knew that it would die. But she didn't know how, nor did she know who else would fall. Many paths were unclear, despite it being set in stone. Mirana despised that thought. And she especially hated that people would be risking their lives for her. She found it selfish and her heart ached at the very thought of death, regardless of which army they were on. Death was still death. A life is still a life. And nothing should cut such a precious thing short. Especially not her. That was what she told herself. And that was what she lived by.

Mirana stood and headed over to the armour, taking out a cloth and carefully beginning to clean and polish it like she did daily. She found the practice soothing in a sense. It was something that was certain daily. She would clean it daily and ensure that there wasn't a scratch. She supposed that was her only purpose at the moment. Well, direct only purpose. Whilst she did have a kingdom to rule, it was small and she wasn't sure how much more she could hold onto the ruling. Her power was diminishing more and more. She moved from one shoulder to the other, content now that she got any form of dust off of it. While there was barely any due to the daily, sometimes twice daily cleansing. Still, it satisfied her. She didn't know why but it felt as though she was doing her own part. It wasn't significant but it was something that allowed her to keep a bit of sanity to which she would hold onto as tightly as possible until the commencing day.

"Any word from McTwisp?" she inquired one of the servants when she heard them enter the room, not turning her gaze from the armour, now sliding the cloth up and down the chest plate.

"No, your majesty," the man spoke respectively, bowing.

"Thank you, Goldling." Goldling had been her parents' advisor during their reign. He had decided to seek refuge in Marmoreal, away from the Red Queen and Salazem Grum.

The advisor himself was a fairly dashing lad. While he had no muscles nor any skill with a sword and shield, he held loyalty within his heart for the queen, whether or not she bore the crown. The crown represented the power that Mirana always held. "You are polishing the armour again?" he asked. He knew it was a daily task of hers yet did not have the least bit of the concept behind such an act. "You are needed in the main meeting hall. There are papers and forms that need your attention, my queen. And judging by the way you are scrubbing, you need some form of distraction." He watched the hand pause, now simply hovering. "Am I incorrect, my queen?"

"What matters need to be discussed today? Webenzum Day has passed as well as the celebrations throughout Queast and Hungbring. There is nothing left that needs addressing. I would prefer to have the day free." Due to her back being towards the lad, she knew that she didn't have a reason to fake the smile that she was known for yet she kept her tone sweet and polite, still managing to convey her message plainly. Through the reflection of the armour, she watched as Goldling bowed and left her with her thoughts to keep her company.

She remembered well what it was like when she first began ruling Underland. She had ruled as a kind and fair monarch for over a century. Mirana herself was young, within Underland standards at least. Over four hundred years. She was in her prime. Iracebeth was four hundred and thirty-two years old. One would come of age when they were a hundred. The life of the king and queen were cut short and due to the fact that fertility in Underland was hard to get the term through resulted in the population being controlled well. People lived for thousands of years. For their parents to die so suddenly had taken a toll. Due to the lifespan, lives were treasured and deemed important. In addition to the rare births as well.

But Iracebeth ruled now. And she had done so for about thirty years. Mirana knew the horrors of her sister's reign. But she didn't wish to dwell on that.

Returning to the armour, a much more pleasant thought came about. In the span of those thirty years, two of them had been occupied taking care of a little girl. Alice Kingsleigh. Mirana wanted children of her own, ever since she was a child herself, and my, did she love spoiling Alice. She had been four when she arrived, or as the girl had informed the queen. She would enjoy thinking back on the memories and she found herself back on the night slightly over a decade ago, eleven years to be precise, where she came across Hatter and the child.

The child rested in Hatter's arms as he approached Marmoreal. "Tarrent, what do you have there?" she inquired from afar, picking up her pace. She stopped in surprise when she realized what it was. "A child?" She studied the girl, noticing the torn dress, the scratches on her face and how pale she looked; much too pale to be her normal skin tone. "Tarrent. Get her inside, quickly! Where did you get her?!"

The Hatter followed the queen, quick on her heels. "Chess brought him over and he fell asleep after tea. The lad enjoyed the tea very much. But it appeared that the day was difficult, my queen. And then I noticed the blood. I do well at stitching hats but not people, especially not a child. So I figured the best thing to do was bring him to you."

She listened keenly as he spoke and led him to her own chambers. "Set her down on the bed and fetch some clothes for her, please. Then go and rest. It is terribly late. The room is still free. I trust you remember where it is." He nodded, left and arrived before bidding his queen goodnight and closing the doors behind him.

She unclothed the young child, placing the tattered and torn dress that resembled rags now to the side. She pressed the back of her hand against her cheek and then forehead, fear forming when she found it much too warm to the touch. She gathered a cloth and wet it, gently rubbing her forehead, face and neck with it to cool her down before resting it on her forehead once more. Now to the injuries.

The monarch cleaned the minor cuts and scrapes on her arms before doing the same on her chest, being careful, motherly, much like her own mother when she used to tend to her. After finishing with that, she moved her gaze to the large gash on her side. It looked deep and resembled that of the Bandersnatch's scratch, causing a shudder of disgust and anger to turn through her for she knew her sister was the only one in Underland to possess such a creature that was not native to Marmoreal or the general vicinity. Whether or not it was Iracebeth herself or one of her soldiers sickened Mirana to her very core. A child. She was no threat to anyone. How could she be? She knew barely anything and was completely defenseless. Even if she wanted to, she held neither strength nor height.

The woman sighed, shoving bitter tears away as she began to treat the wound. She would have to ensure that when the girl woke that she wouldn't move too much. She was a child so no doubt she held much energy ready to be released. Upon finishing the stitching, she wrapped the girl up in a thick wool blanket, holding her close to her chest to share her warmth with the child who felt like ice. She set the girl down before starting a fire, turning back every now and then to observe the unconscious girl. Once the fire was ablaze fully, she puled up a chair before taking the tyke. She curled up with her in the chair, something about holding her making her content. The queen shut her eyes and allow sleep to claim her.

Mirana was awoken when she felt something, or someone, shift and leave her grip. She opened her eyes tiredly, rubbing them as she came to fully. "Hey." She got out of the chair, looking at the girl who had her back towards her, still wrapped in the blanket, attempt to warm up by the dying flames. "Oh, dear. Are you cold? Here, let me…" She placed a warm hand the child's back to which the girl cried out, backing away, staring at her with such crystal blue eyes that seemed to belong to an angel. "I'm sorry!" she immediately apologized. "I didn't mean to alarm you."

The child cowered in the corner as tears rushed down her pale cheeks. She began to tremble out of fear, watching the queen warily. She hesitated when Mirana made no move towards her. "N-not gonna… hurt me?" she whimpered out finally.

"No! Of course not! Why would I?" She knelt in front of the child, holding a hand out slowly, offering it to her. She watched the girl with gentle eyes, offering her a calming smile. The girl took a step forward, watching Mirana for any move she would make that could hurt her. But there was none. She took her hand, surprised by how soft and gentle it was. She became less worried before allowing herself to go into her arms fully. "What's your name, little one?" the queen asked, stroking her hair gently.

"Alice Kingsleigh," she answered, her voice trembling. She was frightened but the white haired woman was glad that she was at least comfortable enough to let her hold her. "I'm four," she continued, taking Mirana completely by surprise. Four. In Underland, being four was equivalent to being an infant, a newborn. Was it different from where she came from? It had to be. But it was different here. So did the same rules still apply to her? She was unsure. The age that she would be perceived in Underland was around twenty years old. Still a child. Still needed to be cared for and loved for. She wanted to provide that care for her.

"Where are your parents?" A simple shrug. "Do you know where you are?"

"N-no…"

"Does Underland sound familiar to you?"

"Wonderland?" she inquired. Mirana stopped, finding that precious. She found no need to correct her.

"Yeah, Wonderland," she smiled in return. "Does it sound familiar?" A negative shake of the head. "Then where are you from?"

"London." London? The queen looked confused. She must be from the Abovelands. And unless some outside force brought her home, she didn't want Alice venturing out to find a way out of Underland and back to this London. It was too dangerous for her.

"Alice, I can't let you go home until someone comes to get you."

"What, why?" she was on the verge of tears yet again.

"No, no. Little one, don't cry." She tenderly wiped a tear that fell, pulling her closer to her chest in an effort to soothe her. "It's too dangerous. I'm sorry."

"Dangerous?" she repeated, obviously more than unfamiliar with the term. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you can get hurt. Like with what happened to your side." She gestured to the bandaged area. "It hurts, right? I don't want you hurt anymore. That's why I want you here with me so I can protect you. Do you understand?" The child nodded and leaned into her, growing content, the tears drying as Mirana gently stroked her hair. She would protect the child. No matter what.