![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
akainagiTen Bonus Trips Through Wonderland (Trips 96-100)
Author: AkaiNagi
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Alice/Tarrant
Summary: Prompts 5-10/10 Table 10 from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
10_prompts.
Prompt: Cowboy
The cries of the flowers carried across the countryside in every direction. A single word echoed all the way to the very gardens at Marmoreal, a message carried from flower to flower, from daisy to dandelion. The cry rose so loud and strong that all the inhabitants of Marmoreal were compelled to drop what they were doing and take heed to so grave a message.
“Murder!” the flowers cried out, calling it over and over in a terrible cacophony.
The Queen herself immediately came out to question the flora. Her manner was so calm and serene, she managed to quiet the hysterical plants long enough to glean the terrible truth.
“Stayne the Wicked!” one of the roses cried. “Stayne the wicked has slain the Champion. Murder!”
The queen blanched. Her first thought was of Alice’s husband, still ensconced in his workshop at the far end of the palace, no doubt. He must not hear the terrible news until it was confirmed. He would sink into madness and grief, and no doubt want to pursue Stayne himself. She would not give Stayne the opportunity to slay another leader of the revolution.
She ordered the flowers to silence and immediately summoned a dozen of her best guardsmen and soldiers, as well as Bayard. They were to find Alice, she ordered, and two of them were to return her to the palace. The remaining ten would track down the villain Stayne, who had disobeyed his sentence of banishment. They were to capture him and bring him in chains back to Marmoreal. Alive if at all possible.
The dozen took to horseback. Bayard ran as fast as his four legs could carry him. He ran for Alice, dear friend to him and his family. And when the scent of Alice became tinged with the scent of blood, he ran even faster still, the horsemen hot on his heels.
They found her in short order. She lay face-up on a patch of blood-soaked grass, a garland of flowers still in her hair. The scent of death was not yet upon her, but she was unconscious and her breathing was shallow and rapid.
“She lives!” Bayard announced to the guards. One of them dismounted to aid her. He ripped a swath from his uniform and bound her bleeding midsection. The white strip of cloth immediately began to blossom with red. She let out not a sound as she was lifted gently up into the arms of a soldier on horseback. Towards Marmoreal the two soldiers raced with their precious cargo.
The remaining ten soldiers and Bayard, vengeance in their eyes and hearts, took off in pursuit of the Knave of Hearts, Stayne the Wicked.
Prompt: Intentions
They caught up with Stayne on the western edge of the Tulgey Wood.
He was a far cry from the Stayne who had terrorized the countryside under the reign of the Red Queen. His figure was gaunt, bordering on emaciated. His eyes gleamed with malice and madness. A bloody manacle dangled from one of his wrists, announcing to all yet another crime of which he was guilty.
He laughed as the soldiers surrounded him, swinging his sword wildly. His laugh was hysterical; the laugh of a madman.
“Have you come to kill me then?” he chortled. “Ah, but of course you can’t! The White Queen does not kill! So what will you do with me then?” he questioned the grim-faced soldiers. “Will you send me to bed without my supper?”
The captain of the guards stepped forward. “You’re right,” he answered. “Our Lady Queen does not kill. She has taken an oath.”
Stayne fairly danced with mad glee.
“We, however,” the captain continued, “have taken no such oath. And therefore have no intention of allowing you to leave this forest alive.” The captain addressed his men, “Stayne the Wicked was killed in self defense while resisting arrest. Wasn’t he, men?”
“Aye, sir!” the platoon answered in unison.
The captain brought him down with one blow of the sword. The nine more that followed, one from each of his men, exacted in the name of vengeance, would be conveniently overlooked in the final report to the Queen. So Stayne met his end. And he was buried at the edge of the Tulgey wood, in an unmarked grave, which Bayard pissed on for good measure. That was his revenge.
It was a fitting end for a man who had not only caused such suffering throughout Underland, but had killed his own Queen.
All Bayard could do, is hope that he hadn’t added Alice to his list of victims.
Prompt: Morose
Nothing, no order from Queen or King or God himself could move Tarrant Hightop from his wife’s side. He sat by her sickbed day and night. Drinking little, eating nothing, sleeping seemingly never, he kept a constant vigil.
He had listened with a lead heart as the court physician, accompanied by the queen (for they had both taken part in the treatment of Alice’s grave injury), described the prognosis. Her chances were poor to fair. If infection were to set in, her chances of survival plummeted to almost nil.
His wife was dying. Killed by a man whom Tarrant had the opportunity to kill five years ago. If he could turn back time, he would run him through with that sword. Not once or twice, but a hundred times over. He would have killed him so thoroughly that not even his memory would survive.
But he could not turn back time. He could only care for his wife as best he could. He was the one who spoon-fed her broth three times a day, who was constantly checking her for fever, who changed her bandages when they needed changing. Who bathed her body with warm wet cloths to keep her clean.
And as the days turned into weeks, his heart despaired. He was breaking, little by little. Every day that Alice didn’t awake, a little piece of him died. Every time Lara asked him when mama was going to wake up, another piece of him went numb.
His wife was dying, and he was dying with her.
Prompt: Melody
He had heard her sing it to their daughter a hundred times. So often he knew it by heart. He had asked her once why she sang that particular lullaby and never any other. Alice had explained that it had been a wonderful memory of her childhood, her mother singing her to sleep with that song.
The song, she told him, was all about love. And how she liked to think that the song could reach Lara even when she was sleeping. So that even her dreams would be filled with love.
Tarrant knelt at his wife’s bedside, clutching her small, pale hand in his own. His voice was thin and choked with emotion, and not very melodic. But he poured all the love he could muster into the single verse:
Always and forever
We’ll be free
Always and Forever
Be with me
We’ll have love aplenty
We’ll have joys outnumbered
We’ll share perfect moments
You and me.
Prompt: Bright Lights
She was so very tired. It was lonely here in this empty place, alone, with no one to comfort her. And there was pain. So much pain. It hurt to breathe, to move. She just wanted freedom from the pain, relief from the loneliness.
So when the lights appeared, they seemed a gift from god. She could feel the warmth, she could hear the voices of all those who welcomed her with open arms. Her mother, her father. They were there waiting for her. And the light made her promises. Freedom from loneliness, from pain, from this soul-crushing exhaustion. All would be well, the light promised. All she had to do was give in. Stop fighting. She had been fighting for so long. In the beginning she had been so sure that she had to fight, to not give in. To bear up under the pain. But surely she had suffered enough.
As if to counter the light, from far in the distance, a melody wafted on the breeze. It was soft and sweet. It enveloped her. It too made promises. Love. Boundless love. Love overflowing. Passionate love, but also the love of family, the love of children, of friends, of life and all its opportunities. There would still be pain, and it would be hard, and she would suffer. But she would be paid for her suffering in love.
She looked once again at the light. Listened once again to the melody.
And she made her choice.
AN: Lyrics are from "Lullaby" by Lamb
Author: AkaiNagi
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Alice/Tarrant
Summary: Prompts 5-10/10 Table 10 from
10_prompts. Prompt: Cowboy
The cries of the flowers carried across the countryside in every direction. A single word echoed all the way to the very gardens at Marmoreal, a message carried from flower to flower, from daisy to dandelion. The cry rose so loud and strong that all the inhabitants of Marmoreal were compelled to drop what they were doing and take heed to so grave a message.
“Murder!” the flowers cried out, calling it over and over in a terrible cacophony.
The Queen herself immediately came out to question the flora. Her manner was so calm and serene, she managed to quiet the hysterical plants long enough to glean the terrible truth.
“Stayne the Wicked!” one of the roses cried. “Stayne the wicked has slain the Champion. Murder!”
The queen blanched. Her first thought was of Alice’s husband, still ensconced in his workshop at the far end of the palace, no doubt. He must not hear the terrible news until it was confirmed. He would sink into madness and grief, and no doubt want to pursue Stayne himself. She would not give Stayne the opportunity to slay another leader of the revolution.
She ordered the flowers to silence and immediately summoned a dozen of her best guardsmen and soldiers, as well as Bayard. They were to find Alice, she ordered, and two of them were to return her to the palace. The remaining ten would track down the villain Stayne, who had disobeyed his sentence of banishment. They were to capture him and bring him in chains back to Marmoreal. Alive if at all possible.
The dozen took to horseback. Bayard ran as fast as his four legs could carry him. He ran for Alice, dear friend to him and his family. And when the scent of Alice became tinged with the scent of blood, he ran even faster still, the horsemen hot on his heels.
They found her in short order. She lay face-up on a patch of blood-soaked grass, a garland of flowers still in her hair. The scent of death was not yet upon her, but she was unconscious and her breathing was shallow and rapid.
“She lives!” Bayard announced to the guards. One of them dismounted to aid her. He ripped a swath from his uniform and bound her bleeding midsection. The white strip of cloth immediately began to blossom with red. She let out not a sound as she was lifted gently up into the arms of a soldier on horseback. Towards Marmoreal the two soldiers raced with their precious cargo.
The remaining ten soldiers and Bayard, vengeance in their eyes and hearts, took off in pursuit of the Knave of Hearts, Stayne the Wicked.
Prompt: Intentions
They caught up with Stayne on the western edge of the Tulgey Wood.
He was a far cry from the Stayne who had terrorized the countryside under the reign of the Red Queen. His figure was gaunt, bordering on emaciated. His eyes gleamed with malice and madness. A bloody manacle dangled from one of his wrists, announcing to all yet another crime of which he was guilty.
He laughed as the soldiers surrounded him, swinging his sword wildly. His laugh was hysterical; the laugh of a madman.
“Have you come to kill me then?” he chortled. “Ah, but of course you can’t! The White Queen does not kill! So what will you do with me then?” he questioned the grim-faced soldiers. “Will you send me to bed without my supper?”
The captain of the guards stepped forward. “You’re right,” he answered. “Our Lady Queen does not kill. She has taken an oath.”
Stayne fairly danced with mad glee.
“We, however,” the captain continued, “have taken no such oath. And therefore have no intention of allowing you to leave this forest alive.” The captain addressed his men, “Stayne the Wicked was killed in self defense while resisting arrest. Wasn’t he, men?”
“Aye, sir!” the platoon answered in unison.
The captain brought him down with one blow of the sword. The nine more that followed, one from each of his men, exacted in the name of vengeance, would be conveniently overlooked in the final report to the Queen. So Stayne met his end. And he was buried at the edge of the Tulgey wood, in an unmarked grave, which Bayard pissed on for good measure. That was his revenge.
It was a fitting end for a man who had not only caused such suffering throughout Underland, but had killed his own Queen.
All Bayard could do, is hope that he hadn’t added Alice to his list of victims.
Prompt: Morose
Nothing, no order from Queen or King or God himself could move Tarrant Hightop from his wife’s side. He sat by her sickbed day and night. Drinking little, eating nothing, sleeping seemingly never, he kept a constant vigil.
He had listened with a lead heart as the court physician, accompanied by the queen (for they had both taken part in the treatment of Alice’s grave injury), described the prognosis. Her chances were poor to fair. If infection were to set in, her chances of survival plummeted to almost nil.
His wife was dying. Killed by a man whom Tarrant had the opportunity to kill five years ago. If he could turn back time, he would run him through with that sword. Not once or twice, but a hundred times over. He would have killed him so thoroughly that not even his memory would survive.
But he could not turn back time. He could only care for his wife as best he could. He was the one who spoon-fed her broth three times a day, who was constantly checking her for fever, who changed her bandages when they needed changing. Who bathed her body with warm wet cloths to keep her clean.
And as the days turned into weeks, his heart despaired. He was breaking, little by little. Every day that Alice didn’t awake, a little piece of him died. Every time Lara asked him when mama was going to wake up, another piece of him went numb.
His wife was dying, and he was dying with her.
Prompt: Melody
He had heard her sing it to their daughter a hundred times. So often he knew it by heart. He had asked her once why she sang that particular lullaby and never any other. Alice had explained that it had been a wonderful memory of her childhood, her mother singing her to sleep with that song.
The song, she told him, was all about love. And how she liked to think that the song could reach Lara even when she was sleeping. So that even her dreams would be filled with love.
Tarrant knelt at his wife’s bedside, clutching her small, pale hand in his own. His voice was thin and choked with emotion, and not very melodic. But he poured all the love he could muster into the single verse:
Always and forever
We’ll be free
Always and Forever
Be with me
We’ll have love aplenty
We’ll have joys outnumbered
We’ll share perfect moments
You and me.
Prompt: Bright Lights
She was so very tired. It was lonely here in this empty place, alone, with no one to comfort her. And there was pain. So much pain. It hurt to breathe, to move. She just wanted freedom from the pain, relief from the loneliness.
So when the lights appeared, they seemed a gift from god. She could feel the warmth, she could hear the voices of all those who welcomed her with open arms. Her mother, her father. They were there waiting for her. And the light made her promises. Freedom from loneliness, from pain, from this soul-crushing exhaustion. All would be well, the light promised. All she had to do was give in. Stop fighting. She had been fighting for so long. In the beginning she had been so sure that she had to fight, to not give in. To bear up under the pain. But surely she had suffered enough.
As if to counter the light, from far in the distance, a melody wafted on the breeze. It was soft and sweet. It enveloped her. It too made promises. Love. Boundless love. Love overflowing. Passionate love, but also the love of family, the love of children, of friends, of life and all its opportunities. There would still be pain, and it would be hard, and she would suffer. But she would be paid for her suffering in love.
She looked once again at the light. Listened once again to the melody.
And she made her choice.
AN: Lyrics are from "Lullaby" by Lamb
