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Down in the Underland	By : FlameWolf666 Category: 1 through F > Alice in Wonderland (2010) > Alice in Wonderland (2010) Views: 8888 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the book version or Tim Burton's version of Alice in Wonderland. This is just for fun and I make no profit from it.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author's Note: Not too many chapters left to go here I don't think. Could probably wrap up in two or three.
Chapter Eight: New Heights
She awoke among yards upon yards of black and crimson silk and was laying on what felt to be a cloud. Not even able to remember her name, the groggy blonde lifted her aching head and looked around the lavish looking room. She had no recollection of how she got here and she was only more disconcerted by the sight of a man standing in the shadows, staring at her. Sick fear and revulsion filled her at the mere glimpse of him, a fact that only served to confuse her. Like everything else, she honestly had no idea of who this man was. “Wh-where am I?” the foggy woman asked, her voice coming out as a croak due to the dryness of her throat.
“Somewhere safe. That horrid man will not touch you again,” the hidden man whispered in a voice that made her skin crawl despite his soothing tone.
“What do you mean? Who are you? Who am I? Why can't I remember anything?” the distraught female asked, clutching a black sheet to her chest as fear and distress began to flood her. While she had no worldly idea where she was, she could feel that she shouldn't be here in the very marrow of her bones. Something about her companion made her feel instinctually terrified and disgusted, not a good combo for someone she was seemingly supposed to trust.
“Easy my dear, the brute gave you quite a knock on the head. I wouldn't be surprised if your memory was effected,” replied the oily, yet smooth voice as her visitor strode forward and into the light.
Immediately, something seemed off to her about the way he looked and yet he looked perfectly normal. He had two blue eyes and long black hair that was tied in a ponytail. Nothing about his face should have set off her warning bells yet looking at him felt wrong, as if she was looking at a disguise. “I am King Ivan and you are my Queen. Unfortunately we seem to be caught up in a nasty uprising orchestrated by a returning troublemaker. He's always been a bit of a problem but I never expected a full scale rebellion,” the crimson clad male whispered, a concerned look that felt wrong on his pale face.
“How do I know what you're telling me is the truth?” the suspicious female asked, her cerulean eyes narrowing. Something about this man just set everything within her off. She knew she had no basis for not trusting him right now but she decided to listen to her instincts.
“Don't you trust me? I suppose it can't be helped, after the knock you took you probably have amnesia,” 'King Ivan' sighed in a hurt voice but even that sounded faked. Everything about this screamed of deception, of illusion and she was beginning to feel the very real need to get away from here.
“Amnesia?” the nightgown wearing woman whispered, narrowing her eyes as the monarch's visage seemed to swim before her eyes. For a second, his face looked entirely different; a sadistic smirk super-imposed over his look of concern. There was also the fact that, just for a brief moment, she had also seen a heart shaped piece of metal covering his right eye. This, above anything else, caused some of her memories to return in a rush.
“No, you stay away from me! You're lying! You… you want to hurt me… to hurt…,” the confused female snarled, backing away from the tall male as she placed a protective hand over her flat stomach. Whoever this man was, he was dangerous to something very precious to her; something that felt extremely important to remember.
“Hush Mantha! You'll upset our child. You are confused and have had a trying day. If my presence causes such a state, I shall leave for your safety,” the tall man murmured in a gentle voice, just the faintest hint of contempt hidden under his worry as he bowed and slowly left the room.
As soon as the man was gone, the golden haired female placed her hands on her stomach in astonishment. He had told her she was pregnant and at least that much seemed right in some way. Still, that was the only thing that did. The name he called her, this room, everything seemed wrong; almost like a stage play. Getting to her naked feet, the confused woman went to the doors to tug on them; only to find them locked. Backing away from the blocked entry with fear bubbling inside her, the blonde simply went back to her bed to lay on it. For the time being she was trapped here. Nibbling her lower lip, she began to rub her stomach as her thoughts drifted to men that wore purple and had orange hair.
Mirana laid in her bed, black splotches spreading on her skin in ink-like patterns. The black on her dress had reached just above her ribcage and her breath came in laboring gasps. Bayard laid his head on her bed, his brown eyes fixed on the ailing monarch as her life slowly ebbed away. A being as pure as the Queen simply couldn't withstand the corruption to herself or Underland. Both were intertwined and if she died, the future would be grim for the tiny world.
Suddenly the frail female shot upright, her pure midnight eyes flying open to fix on the far wall blindly. “The skies. Search the skies,” she whispered in a voice that was more like a gentle breeze. Then she was laying back as she lost consciousness once more, another black stain appearing and spreading on her left cheek.
“Aye majesty,” the loyal hound whispered before charging off in search of Tarrant's ragtag army.
Fire, screaming, smoke, choking, burning, must run! Sitting up with a gasp, Tarrant blindly tossed a throwing knife; forcing the nymph that stood beside him to dodge. “Easy now T. Easy, you're safe,” she soothed, reaching out but not quite touching him.
“Alice, we need ta find her,” he rasped as he struggled to his feet, his blurred vision from just regaining consciousness nearly making him trip over himself.
“Steady on naow, donnae carry on so,” the green tinted female soothed, slipping into Outlandish as she rushed over to steady him and set him back on the bed.
“Yaer lass'll be soon taken care of. Fer naow, ye need to regain a bit o' yer strength,” the ethereal being whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the milliner's sweaty forehead before pulling back to give him a worried glance.
“Yae donna unnerstand! That slurvish son of a Bandersnatch be plannin' t'use mae Alice and our unborn child in th'ritual o' th'damned,” the purple clad male protested, struggling to sit up once more. Only his extreme dizziness and blurred vision forced him to lay back down. He could feel his lover's fear and confusion through their rather new but strong connection and it ate at his sanity slowly.
What was most distressing was the fact that the current events were causing deja-vu feelings, as if memories that were long buried were trying to force themselves to the surface. Memories that were honestly better off buried. “Ease yerself Tarrant, fer her sake as well as yer own,” the nymph soothed, summoning some vines with a flick of her wrist.
“D-do I know yae?” the distraught male whispered, his red tinted, orange eyes narrowing slightly. The green female only gave him a sad look, the leaves wilting slightly on the vines covering her body.
“A long time ago. Long afore the war started and yae forgot who yae were,” she replied in a gentle voice.
Memories slammed into the tailor like a bomb going off, sending him back to days before Iracebeth had even been considered a threat. Memories of him playing a homemade guitar for this creature of nature. Memories of her becoming one of his best friends. Unfortunately, with these pleasant memories also came ones of the war. Ones he had suppressed years ago lest he honestly and truly went mad. Ones of his village burning and holding his dying, baby sister in his arms, a woman who had been his best friend and most loved relative. She was also the one who would try on any of his experiments and help him sort out the things wrong with them. She had even lived with him, due to them being virtually inseparable. Seeing her blood dribbling onto her porcelain skin, hearing her rattling last breath had driven him deep into madness. So deep, in fact, that he had to build a new personality to be in charge of his body so he wouldn't accidentally hurt those he cared about. The Hatter, the civilized mask that had become his actual personality.
Groaning, the orange haired male gripped his head in his half gloved hands. No, no Hatter was the real one and he was the madness. That was the way he had always been. Yet, if that was true, why did he feel more right like this? Why did it feel like Hatter was the true madness? All of this made his head hurt and swim sickly, something he did not need when Alice needed him clear headed. He would have to put his existential crisis aside for now and focus on finding Stayne. A sudden, loud howling broke him from his swirling thoughts with a jerk and he found himself breaking free of the vines that held him easily.
Mallymkun, who had been reclining on Thackery's head, was on her feet immediately; looking around for any sign of the Bloodhound. Soon Bayard was seen barreling toward their small camp, the small guard of Outlanders moving out of the way to allow him passage. The overwrought canine collapsed as soon as he was past the front line, panting raggedly as he lay on the ground and looked pleadingly up at Thackery and Mally. “Message from the Queen,” he gasped, laying on his side and simply unable to move due to extreme exhaustion. In a flash, the tiny mouse that was perched on the hare's head was running into the sick tent to fetch Tarrant and the Nymph.
When the diminutive mammal got inside, she was greeted with the sight of the hatter getting to his shaky feet and putting on his clothes despite heavy protests from the nature spirit. “I donnae care! I need t'find Alice afore that arzi has a chance t'put his plan into action,” Tarrant bit out as he slid his purple tux coat on. The flora covered female beside him only shook her head before turning her gaze to their tiny visitor. Mally took that cue to scamper up the tailor's pant leg, up his body and onto his shoulder.
“I don't suppose you need me to tell ya Bayard is here with a message from Mirana,” the rodent murmured into his ear, clinging onto his coat collar for dear life as he began to stride to the opening of the tent.
“Aye, ye donnae. Is th'message 'bout mae Alice?” snarled the agitated man as he exited the tent and his crimson gaze landed on the exhausted hound.
“I don't know Hatta,” Mally whispered, jumping slightly when her longtime friend shot a heated glare at her.
“Mae name be Tarrant, something yae bae all t'familiar with,” he snarled. Just hearing that nickname was enough to make his less wild counterpart stir. Right now he needed to remain in control. The Hatter wasn't a fighter, nowhere near. The man was more suited to using a sewing needle rather than a sword or knives. Who he was currently, on the other hand, was a seasoned warrior; a deadly force to be reckoned with. He could not afford being forced back into civility.
Speed walking towards the wheezing canid, Tarrant knelt beside the creature and placed a half gloved hand on a heaving side. “Th-the skies,” Bayard huffed before he lost the fight with his body and passed out. Awe and wonder came into the tailor's eyes as he gave the dog's fur an affectionate ruffle.
“Th'Legendary Kingdom,” he whispered, his gaze traveling to the nature spirit next to him. The vine covered female was placing a delicate hand on Bayard's short, brown fur. A faint, light green glow surrounded her hand and the canine's breathing instantly eased.
“If he has breached there, we are worse off than I thought,” the Nymph whispered, giving her old friend a worried glance. The Sky Kingdom was the last bastion of what is good and pure in Underland. A mecha of the Magickal currents that fed their entire world. It had been closely guarded by a series of spells and barriers and had gradually been forgotten about over the last eternity. Only a very select group even knew of the ancient kingdom's existence.
For some reason, Tarrant felt like the nature spirit held the answer to how they were going to reach the kingdom. Something tickled a long ago memory in the back of his mind and he found himself struggling to grasp it. Sighing, the naked woman got to her feet and plucked a strange looking flower from her green, almost grass-like hair. An action that caused the memory to blend in with this moment in a surreal mirror. “You will need the help of my dragons,” she whispered, petting the curled, red tipped, spear shaped petals of the blossom. Then his head exploded in pain as the dam around his past broke and he lost consciousness.
'He lay with his head in a vine covered lap, smiling up at the gentle Nymph that had been a well guarded secret of his clan for generations. Long ago, when the first Hightopp had decided to stake a claim to this land, he had found a beautiful peaceful glade that held a lonely secret. Zazzemum Hightopp had been the first being she had seen in centuries and she had both been terrified and ecstatic to see him. Zazzemum, on the other hand, had been struck speechless by her beauty and kindness. When he had passed, the secret of the glade became a Hightopp birthright of sorts.
Sighing contently, Tarrant found himself remembering when his father had first introduced them. She had fallen in love with him, doting on him like a second mother. As he grew older, their relationship evolved. She never quite stopped being maternal to him but it soon became obvious that she had begun to care for him in a much different manner. “The wind blows ill,” she whispered, her delicate fingers moving through his wild mane of hair; effectively breaking his pleasant thoughts.
Rolling to sit up and clasp her small hands, the tailor gave the top of one hand a light kiss. “Th'sun shines, th'birds sing! Wha' coul' go wrong this day?” Tarrant asked, caressing her silk skin in tiny circles. She only smiled sadly before plucking a 'Dragon Lily' from her hair and petting the petals. With that small motion, the atmosphere in the glade became oppressive with tension.
“The dragons say 'he' approaches,” she whispered, fear coming into her verdant eyes. Even the trees around them shuddered in fear, a cold wind quickly replacing the warmth of earlier.
“It cannae bae. No one can tame th'Jabberwock,” Tarrant hissed, nervousness beginning to come into his green eyes.
“Tame, no, but gain the loyalty of, certainly,” the nature sprite whispered, giving the fire resembling flower back into her grass-like hair.
“Will yer dragons fight?” the wild haired male hissed out, his eyes gaining an orange rim as his tone became urgent. She only gave him a sad smile before she began to fade into the ether. Looking up at the quickly withering glade, Tarrant couldn't help but feel a sick dread for all those he held dear.'
“He's not waking up!” came a nervous, familiar male voice.
“He's fine Nivins,” came a soothing female voice as a cool hand pressed to his heated brow. Groaning, Tarrant slowly sat up as he pressed the heel of one hand to his milky forehead. As he slowly came to, memories of what he 'dreamed' came back to him and filled his head with a throbbing pain.
“What in th' seven bae goin' on,” he burred in a thick brogue, his vision swimming as the screams of his sister and mother filled his ears. No, no, no! He couldn't lose to his madness now! He had to hold on, for Alice, for his unborn child!
“Yae bae rememberin' wha' came afore th'Hatta. Yae bae rememberin' who yae once were as well as wha' happened,” replied the Nymph from her position beside him.
“But I am the Hatter,” came a lost, confused sounding lisp as the confused male squeezed his eyes shut.
“Now is not the time for this! We have to save Alice,” McTwisp whispered in a nervous voice, rubbing his paws together as he looked around with wide, pink eyes.
“Alice….,” came a dark brogue, signaling the return of Tarrant's more violent, crazed side. Curling his fingerless gloved hands into tight fists, the warrior focused his now crimson gaze on his long ago companion.
“The dragons will be here soon but they will take some convincing to work with you,” the forest sprite replied, a sad, resigned expression in her eyes. Eyes that resembled a meadow on a bright summer day. Nodding, the milliner slowly got to his feet and straightened his purple jacket before striding purposefully out of the tent.
She came to once again, feeling more out of place than ever. The room around her had almost seemed to deteriorate and yet the veneer of what she saw before was imposed over the ruin. It was almost like having double vision, seeing two realities at once instead of twin images. Then, as if sensing the disparity, the room fixed itself to look brand new again; almost making her wonder if she was going insane. All of this felt like a fever dream and all she wanted to do was wake up. Sighing, she rubbed her still flat stomach before looking around the room some more.
The doors to her room came flying open with a loud bang, the man from before coming in. For just a moment, his face was a pale, twisted, one eyed portrait of hatred and insanity. Then it returned to the visage she had first been greeted with. Her head starting to ache from the contradictions in her sight, the confused blonde watched the monarch with a feeling of apprehension. “The blasted rouge is coming after you and our child!” he hissed in a worried voice that held just a hint of hatred. For some reason his words caused hope to blossom within her and she found herself smiling.
Just the mention of the man coming after her made her feel better for some unknown reason. A small, pleasant tingle radiated from a small spot on her neck as she found herself thinking of orange hair and tea parties. “What has he done to turn your heart from me dear one?” came a sad husk by her ear, making her startle away from the King who was much too close to her. His blue eyes stared at her with heartbreak clear in them. Yet, under that, there was a seething, barely hidden hatred.
“Do all of our years in a happy marriage mean nothing to you?” he hissed in a heartfelt tone, his hands coming up to grip her arms just a touch too hard. Despite how emotional those words were, the confused female found herself disbelieving of all of them.
In fact, her very skin crawled at his touch and she had to fight the extreme urge to vomit. How was she to believe what he was telling her when her entire body seemed to reject it on a subconscious level. “Get your hands off me,” her voice hissed in a much stronger tone than she had ever suspected. King Ivan pulled back, his concerned mask falling away for very real rage as his appearance rippled and morphed.
“Fine, if you want things the hard way then so be it,” he snarled, waving his hand as pain exploded in her head and caused her to go unconscious. His one eyed glare was the last thing she saw before her world went black.
A large, pearl colored dragon landed delicately in the clearing, it's long, snake-like body almost swimming as it came in. Long whiskers floated in the air alongside its long body as its gentle, blue eyes gazed down at the group from above the treetops. Lowering its head down to be level with the humans, the gigantic creature smiled with a canine-like muzzle. A long, white mane flowed from the top of its head to the end of its tail, glittering in the sunlight. “Fair Farren Tarrant,” came a wise, female voice from inside their heads, enveloping the entire group with a feeling of comfort.
“Lilsa,” the tailor whispered in a reverent voice, slipping to one knee as his very blood forced him to remember her. She and his clan had been joined in a close bond that went to the very soul. If his clan ever went extinct, she would die from the strength of the tie between them.
“It has been a long time little Hightopp,” she purred, her gem-like eyes closing as she pushed her huge face against him. Her pearl colored, deer-like horns rubbed against him harmlessly, the ends blunt as a spoon.
“Too long droma,” he sighed in a tear-filled, almost lost sounding voice as he clung to the dragon like a found child.
“Still your tears little one. There is still much to be done before our hellos can be said. My clan will once again come to your aid,” Lilsa purred as several more of her kind in varying colors began to land. One by one, the graceful creatures allowed ten soldiers to mount until only Thackery and the Bandersnatch was left.
“Ah ain't doin' eet,” the nervous hare hissed, twitching as he backed away from the green dragon that stared at him neutrally. The Bandersnatch was also raising his own stink, growling threateningly at the purple and pink dragons that watched from a safe distance.
“It be fer Alice. She be needin' everyone we c'n give her,” Tarrant burred from his perch on Lilsa, smiling when his words had the desired effect.
“Och, tha' be playin' dirty,” the brown furred lapine groaned as he approached his dragon in a rather jittery manner. The striped beast likewise complied begrudgingly, laying down and letting the pair gently lift him. Soon the entire flight was in the air, Lilsa leading the way to a distant but distinct formation of clouds.
“If he has corrupted the guard, we are in for a hell of a fight,” the pearl colored dragon warned, her long body swimming through the air.

“Aye and wi'ou' th'bloody cat we'll be in trouble. All we c'n hope f'r is tha' they weren' able t'be turned,” Tarrant hissed, palming one of his knives as they slowly got closer to the huge group of clouds. The guard of the Ancient Kingdom was legendary for dispatching of threats. If they still had Chess, they would have at least had a way to distract them. If any had been turned, a good chunk of their army would probably end up dead before they even breached the cloud cover.
Soon, that question was answered for them by an eerie silence as they broke past the obscuring wall of vapor. The floating castle was spookily quiet, no signs of life whatsoever as the flight grew closer and closer. It all seemed too still, making the large group tense and ill at ease as they closed in on the flying ruins. Just as they got close enough to land, a fireball came out of nowhere; barely dodged by Lilsa. Looking in the direction of the attack, Tarrant saw a huge, armor cover dragon heading right towards them; death in it's burning, red eyes.
- 7
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Down in the Underland