"The trees seem sad. Have you been speaking to them?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Perhaps a bit more kindly?"

It pains me to instruct others to carry out tasks I cannot do. Nature itself wilts in my presence – unlike these subjects of the court, it sees what lies within. What good am I as queen when darkness lives and breathes inside of me? Underland has had its fill of that, it doesn't need any more.

Iracebeth.

She has freedom I can only dream of; freedom to embrace all that she is. The longing to do the same is strong today; has only grown since that dreadful day. It's why I need for her to come – Alice; my champion.

She will return that which is rightfully mine – crown, sword and kingdom – needed shackles.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Bayard in the distance.

"Would you all excuse me for a moment? Thank you."

Propriety bids me check the courtiers are out of sight before I dash too eagerly to greet him. I cannot help it; I'm running out of time. It won't be long until I'm unable to resist, before all the potion making in the world won't stave off urges I mustn't indulge.

"What news, Bayard?"

"Alice has returned to Underland."

Euphoria sweeps through me, so strong I cannot hide it. Just for a moment, darkness recedes. She's here at last - impatience mixes with excitement.

"Where is she now?"

"In Salazam Grom. Forgive me, I allowed her to divert from her destined path."

So yet again, The Oraculum doesn't lie. Her choice, Bayard is right, but also not. Fate wills it to be so and Alice can't change that; none of us can change what's written in the stars. I wonder then, what else has been foreseen? What if Alice is not enough? What if –

This path allows the darkness to intrude again but now I have just enough strength to resist its grasp. I manage to push it to the side, choose to bestow a kindness where it's owed.

"No, no, no…but that is exactly where she will find the Vorpal sword. We have our champion. Rest now, you have done well."

Inadvertently, anticipation transmits itself to my hands. They're how I've always expressed emotion. I scratch his head, momentarily forgetting my own oaths. He drops down tiredly before me, his tongue lolling out to flop onto my dress. Whatever stains he leaves do not concern me, I've dozens more where that one came from. All of them are the pristine white of snow; all serve exactly the same purpose – that of my cover and my prison.

There's far too much to do, one cannot think like this. I stroke his head again and suddenly I realise what I am doing. My fingers immediately twitch in trepidation. These days, I don't allow my hands to feel, persist in keeping them raised in the air at my side. What if my darkness is catching? What if all it takes to break free is just a simple touch? No, best to be safe, even at the expense of looking slightly mad. After all, all the best people are – Tarrant has always told me so. I know he'll help me guide her, this Alice. He's always been there for me, with me. Sometimes I wonder what he sees, worry that it's been too much. Will she be able to help him too? Will she return him to what he was, just as I pray she restores me?

I hope for all these things even as I wonder to myself- what'll she be like, this champion of mine?