-1I do not own this fandom, the movie, the book, the characters, the songs, the rights, nothing! I just write to entertain. I make no money. Please read and review. I haven't been on in a while I know, but I do plan on regular updates so please let me know what you think.

Once upon a time there was a land beneath our own, where flowers talk, rocking horse flies fight with dragon flies. Where white rabbits in fancy waistcoats are very concerned with time. Where creatures and peoples have lovely tea parties in wonderful gardens.......
Dark Waltz

We are the lucky ones
We shine like a thousand suns
When all of the colour runs together

I'll keep you company
In one glorious harmony
Waltzing with destiny forever

Dance me into the night
Underneath the moon shining so bright
Turning me into the light

Time dances whirling past
I gaze through the looking glass
And feel just beyond my grasp is heaven

Sacred geometry
Where movement is poetry
Visions of you and me forever

Dance me into the night
Underneath the moon shining so bright
Turning me into the light

Dance me into the night
Underneath the moon shining so bright
Let the dark waltz begin
Oh let me wheel - let me spin
Let it take me again
Turning me into the light

Dark Waltz - Hayley Westenra

Alice stood on the deck of the ship as it docked. Her brown eyes lifted to the sky above the cramped port to the dreary gray sky. Another day in London. So unlike China, or India. The air here even smelled cramped. The clouds had gathered to welcome her home. Dark, ominous. Fitting weather for such a bleak occasion.

Her hand tightened around Margaret's letter tightly. So tightly in fact, she could feel her nails biting into her palm. Even though her gloves. Her eyes scanned the crowd below for her sister's face. There. Pale, drawn, red eyed. Much like her own she supposed.

She waited patiently as they lowered the planks to allow the passengers to disembark and made her way down the weathered wood to the solid ground waiting for her. Land felt foreign now, she cast one longing look back at the 'Wonder' her floating home and dreamy chariot for these past years. A happy place with few restrictions.

Pushing her way through the throng of people she met her sister in the middle. The rain started to fall then, cold wet drops that spittered and spattered on the gray streets below. They embraced, exchanged awkward smiles, tear filled gazes. This was no happy homecoming.

"Not even a proper hat Alice" Margret said then, touching Alice's golden curls. Taking her sister's arm and leading her to the waiting carriage, she wondered why Alice could never quite conform. Alice lifted a hand to touch her now damp hair. She never wore hats. She couldn't recall exactly why, only that each time she tried she felt a deep sense of betrayal. It made no sense, but then, some things didn't. She knew that.

No words were spoken as they traveled, both staring out the windows, lost in thought. No happy news to share, no recount of grand adventures. Only the dark ache that had bloomed within each of them. Alice wondered where Lowell was, but she didn't ask.

As Alice viewed the passing green, she sighed softly. She hated England. Stuffy, confining England. She had never felt at home here. Yet here was home. And yet it wasn't. Odd that. She recalled walking into a small tea shop in China, being assaulted by the sweet, aromatic scents of many blends. That scent was home…somehow.

She glanced at her sister. Margret, in Alice's opinion had always been a vastly beautiful woman. She was serene and composed and never a hair out of place. This Margret was pale and wan, beautiful in a tense and sad sort of way. What had happened?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours later, Alice broke that terrible silence as they shared tea in the parlor. "How did it happen?"

Her sister smoothed her dark skirts with a shaky hand, "It was a long time coming Alice. Mother had been ill for quite some time."

"Since when?"

"Years. Even before father died. She hid it well, but she grew worse after you left."

Alice dropped her gaze, feeling guilt sink razor teeth into her heart. "I should have been here. Why didn't you write of it? I would have come home at once."

"For exactly that reason!" Margret snapped, grief and fatigue wearing on her, "Mother forbade it and I agreed."

Alice opened her mouth to speak, hurt and anger washing over her in waves. No sound came out and her sister forged ahead.

"We were so proud of you. Our intrepid Alice, traveling the wide world tacking out new trade routes and agreements for king and country. Living your dream, carrying on father's great dream. What could you have done had you come back, save sit and watch her waste away? She didn't want that Alice!"

"But she was ill!"

"How we loved your letters and the odd teas you sent to us. It was her joy you know? We'd sit in this very parlor and read your letters trying to imagine all the wonders you described, try to pronounce all the names." Margret's smile was sad now, recalling those happy times with her mother. "We couldn't take that from you. Couldn't possibly. After all these years Alice, you finally seemed happy… better than you were here. You had found a purpose. You were different. Like you had found something you had lost."

Alice toyed with her teacup. "My muchness." A tiny sparkle moved in the back of her mind.

Margret eyed her, "What was that?"

Alice met her gaze, "My muchness. I found my muchness, fat lot of good its done me."

"Alice. Whatever are you talking about? What is muchness?" Margret asked.

Alice curled her hand near her heart, "Its here. Its that part of you that makes you brave and strong. What makes you live as you wish to. Someone once told me, though I can't… seem to recall." Her voice drifted off towards the end as she pondered what she'd said. "Who was it? It feels like I should know. Like I've forgotten something terribly important."

Margret bit her lip and then spoke in a soft voice, "Alice, perhaps you should not have come back to England."

Alice snapped her eyes to her sister, "Why ever not?"

Margret sighed, "Its just that… well.. You say the oddest things. You don't really fit in here do you? Sometimes you seem too bright for this drab place. Perhaps you should have remained in China, or India, or some other happy place."

And secretly Alice agreed. But if not here, then where? Not in all of her travels had she found the home that fit. Though she missed home terribly. Some strange unknown home. What was it that she had forgotten? The feeling had been nagging at her for months now, and every time she drank her beloved tea she felt it worsen.

Margret watched the play of emotions on Alice's face and felt her heart break a little more. "Its grown quite late Alice. Perhaps you should get some rest. I will take you to see mother's grave in the morning."

Alice nodded, tottering off down the hall, feeling broken and wooden.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Flashes of red and white met her eyes. She peered up at towering flowers that whispered about her. She spun in the vivid colors of a place made of dreams.

A sweet smile and luminous green eyes filled with so much emotion it took her breath away. "You've forgotten me. I knew you would". And her heart cracked a little more.

A blue butterfly flew past her and scowled. "Come home Alice!" it snarked at her.

"I am!" she shouted back but everything was gone, exploding into flame and she was burning.

Alice woke hard, sitting bolt upright on the bed, sweat covering her. She panted for breath. She was shivering and suddenly the pain her chest blossomed like fire and she fell back to the bedding, sobbing into her pillow.

How could you miss a dream so much it hurt?

Ilosivich Stayne was many things to many people. He had been the dark knave and lover to the Red queen. He had been admirer turned hunter on the lovely Alice. He was the banished knight who was forced to live with a large headed woman rather than anywhere else.

If there was one thing he was not, it was a fool and he was tired of his banishment. Not that he was really bound by it anyway. He moved in Underland nearly freely. He had learned to disguise himself cleverly, even took his potions to stem his great height so that he could blend in better. Wore long cloaks and hoods when he moved.

It was in this way that he had first head the rumor.

Rumor of an ancient sword fashioned before Underland was Underland. The Kingmaker. Many scoffed at such tales but Stayne knew better. For Underland was a darker place than most imagined and it held many secrets. He had made it his goal to find this Kingmaker and use it.

He was quite pleased with himself as he thought about how his efforts would about to pay off. Walking behind him on a long forgotten trail in the Tulgey wood, was Iracebeth, former queen of Underland.

"Why are we out hewe again?" she demanded to know. Her incapability of properly pronouncing her R's no longer grated on him as it had in the past.

"I have found it my sweet." he assured her, "The Kingmaker."

"The what?"

"The sword Iracebeth. The one that will allow it's wielder to take control of Underland."

She stopped, eyes growing large in her bulbous head. "Its weal?"

He nodded, smiling sweetly at her as she rushed to clutch his hand, "I could be queen again."

He motioned for her walk ahead of him in to the clearing that was now visible through the trees. There, in the center stood an old dry well.

She walked to the edge of it and peered in to the dimness, "It's a well Stayne" she said. Her tone indicated she was speaking to a simpleton and he held his temper in check.

He moved beside her, long fingers finding the notched crevice he sought. Carefully he lifted the ancient stone away to reveal a compartment. Within it, lay a wicked looking black sword. The malice of the thing was nearly tangible.

She moved to touch it but he blocked her, "Its very dangerous."

She lifted her eyes back to his, "How does it wowk?"

Stayne gently lifted the blade closer for her inspection, "It lives. It dines on royal blood and when the blade is drenched, a new crown will be fashioned."

She blinked, "A new cwown?"

He nodded.

She thought about this. "So we would have to kill Miwana to take control. Impossible! How could we get close enough?"

Stayne smiled again, "I have a plan of course. An insider."

Iracebeth scoffed, "Insidew? To whewe?"

"The white palace" he replied easily, "I have been within the walls on several occasions of late."

The tiny woman shook her head, "Liaw."

"I am the lover of a rather jealous maid who serves there. I have promised her many grand things."

Iracebeth looked crushed, "You… You have a lovew?"

He nodded, "Of course. I needed to get in that palace if this was ever to work. I have told her of the day when I will arrive and I will slay your little sister. I have promised the maid that she will be queen afterwards, but I didn't mean it."

"And then I will have Undewland back?No more upwisings?"

He moved behind her now, "Something like that" he replied.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, wary now, "What do you mean? Something?"

He caressed the blade with his gloved hand, "As long as royal lives the crown will not be fashioned."

She blinked.

Then screamed as Stayne drove the blade deep through her back, piercing her heart. "Stayne…"

"I shall have Underland and be the King you never allowed me to be." he snarled into her face kicking her forward and off the blade. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving. He knicked his palm with the blade, "That should do it, the one to rule must have the blood of all royals or it will not work."

He carefully sheathed the still wet sword. He glanced down to see her small hands moving in pitiful grasping motions in the earth.

"Bedding you was the purest hell I would have endured." he spat at her, "Now it doesn't matter. Mirana will fall and I will destroy the passage to Overland. There will be no champion ever again."

He strode some distance away and laughed darkly, "Long live the queen."

And he left her there to die painfully and the birds to peck at her as they wished.

The cemetery was quiet, the rain drizzling down on her as she made her way to the little stone marker. Margret stood in the door of the small chapel out of the wet. Alice wandered through the neat rows and then stopped. She placed her bunch of flowers down and then knelt and spoke to her mother aloud for the first time in three years.

Alice's gloved fingers wiped away the tiny traces of earth that marred the stone.

She apologized for being away, for not knowing of the illness. She berated herself and called herself everything but a child of God. And in the end, she wept. Wept for the known, the unknown, the lost and the forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You must do it when the Hatter is not to be found." she whispered in his ear, tongue touching the lobe, "He is a danger to you."

And didn't Stayne know it? The mad man had very nearly killed him once before. "When?"

"Two days time" she giggled between kisses, "You know she loves to walk the moonlit garden terrace. Its there you can strike her and make me your queen."

He growled softly against a soft white throat, sliding deep within her, "And you will be radiant. Wait for me there. I will make all the right moves."

And she had, several days after. Hidden in the pale wisteria and white tea roses.

She watched Mirana, the white queen walk among the flowers. Delicate and pale as the blossoms there. Mirana had never harmed her, never harmed anyone. But her flitting gestures and simpering nature made Lilya sick to her stomach. Mirana was lovely in a way she could never be. So far above everything and everyone and Lilya had always coveted that sacred place. So much so that she was about to commit the highest act of treason. Mirana had been naïve in believing that if she loved everyone, they would love her back.

Lilya watched Stayne appear from the shadows just as the happy voice of the hatter rang out.

"Majesty! I have just completed a new hat for you! Indeed it's the whitest, brightest, smoothest softest finest silk I have ever found!"

Damn! He had returned early. She lifted frightened eyes to Stayne from across the greenery, but he took his chance and attacked the queen. He'd not come this far to lose out now.

Leaping out from the shrubbery and cornering her in her own gardens. "Stayne!" she gasped looking at the tall man bearing down on her. She backed away, her black nailed fingers tapping rampantly in the air.

"Should have killed me when you had the chance Mirana" he cooed to her, "Now all of Underland will be mine. Say hello to your sister for me!" He lashed at her, the black blade biting deep into her pale white skin. Her pained cry brought the hatter running.

He caught her as she sank to the ground the blade still deep in her chest. In his upset not even really noticing the knave yet. His eyes fixed on the horrid red stain blooming from her middle. The white material of her frothy gown marred by it. The scent of iron filled his nose and he thought he might be ill.

"Mirana! Majesty!" he cried out, his hand wrapping around the black steel and tugging it free cutting his own hand in the process. He didn't feel it. Stayne, however saw what had occurred and roared his rage. The hatter looked up at him, his lips curling back in a snarl.

"Alice….find….." Mirana breathed to him, her light hand clutching one last time. His larger hand pressed over the wound as though he could force her remain in her body.

Tarrant watched the light fade from the kind eyes of his friend and queen and gently laid her against the white stone. He rose to his full height, eyes turning an eerie orange and he advanced on the other man. "Now I will kill ye. I knew I shouldha done it from the firss, ye black hearted knave, ye donna know the wrath I'm aboot to give ye."

Stayne knew better than to fight him here, already the sounds of footsteps reached him and the hatter was a fine fighter. "Our day will come hatter, only one can rule this land. And it will be me!" he spat and turned to flee.

"Our day is now!" Tarrant shouted and moved to follow but Stayne was already gone, vanishing in a swirling black fog. Tarrant looked down and saw the white stone of the palace was tinged pink, the very walls reflecting the ever growing pool of crimson that spilled from the fallen queen. He slowly pulled his hat from his head and sank to his knees, the anger fading from his eyes, replaced by grief.

"Twice have I failed you Majesty. And Underland".

And Underland wept and trembled.

"Lord and Lady Ascot have invited us to visit for tea on the way back, I thought perhaps seeing Lord Ascot might make you feel better. You and he were always kindred spirits I think" Margret said as they left the cemetery.

Alice nodded, climbing into the carriage. The hem of her gown was wet and muddy from stooping as she had. Margret avoided the material but said nothing of it's state.

They arrived a short time later, lady Ascot as prim and cool as she had always been. Her husband much warmer. Standing at the front entrance. Looking quite grand. Alice shuddered to think of what her life might have been like within these walls.

Just as they were entering the large manor, Lady Ascot pointed out into the distance of their grounds. "Something is burning!" She turned round to call over her shoulder for servants to see to it at once.

They turned and Alice felt a cold dread fill her stomach. Something important lay in that direction. Didn't it?

"However, can it be burning so brightly when its raining torrents?" Lord Ascot asked in wonder. The kind man peered up at the angry sky as though trying to find an answer, "Its like monsoon in India. You recall Alice." He squinted against he drops pelting his eyeballs.

Torrents. That sparkle grew a little larger.

"Look you can see the flames over the high tops of the trees." Margret said then.

High. Torrents. High tops. Alice felt something starting to coil in her chest. "Torrents, high tops" she mumbled to herself, "Torrents…terrants, Terrance?… Tarrant! Tarrant Hightopp!" Larger still.

"Alice!" Margret cried out at her sister's outburst, "Whatever is the matter with you?"

Alice shook her head, "I've just remembered the terribly important thing I had forgotten, I have to go. Something is wrong I just know it." Then she turned and gathered her skirts fleeing in the direction of the fire. Behind her, voices called after her, footsteps sounded but Alice kept running. Running as though her life depended on it and perhaps it did. Her heart certainly did.

The ground was slippery, the protruding roots catching at her boots as she ran, tripping her, but she was on her feet and moving again. She didn't care that her clothing was torn, her hands and knees scratched and bleeding. She simply ran. Towards the fire. Towards the great tree burning on the hill. Her side ached, her lungs burned, but she kept moving. She had to.

If they caught her, if they knew her madness was real, they would stop her. She might never be able to return.

The hole was nearly grown over but she managed to tear roots aside enough to peer down it. Water and tears drenched her face. Her hair loose and wild. Would it even work this time? She had to try. Alice flung herself into the darkness and screamed when she fell through smoke and fire. The passage was alight.

She hit smoldering books, shelves, the piano, the bed was gone and she plummeted through the overwhelming heat. She crashed through the ceiling in to the burning room of doors. The smoke so thick she could hardly see or breathe. Everything was so very hot. She blinked tears from her eyes in an effort to see. She had to feel her way around the room, yelping when her tender skin encountered something hot.

She groped her way to the table, hand sliding along hot, cracked glass, she felt an uneven edge dig into her palm, to find the bottle and the key. The chandelier crashed to the floor beside her and pain blossomed in her arm as one of it's ornate arms gouged her. Fingers found purchase on the items she sought and she swiftly uncorked the bottle and drank. Coughing and sputtering, feeling the queasy feeling take hold of her.

There had been so little, was it even enough?

The ceiling rained ash and smoldering wood on her, it groaned ominously and she rushed to the tall velvet curtain across the room, eyes burning, lungs throbbing. She was getting dizzy now, tired. Her head pounded sharply and she began to cough. The drapes were on fire now and they fell in a smoking heap before her, blocking the door.

Alice had no option now. Burn to death in this room, or risk injury to survive. She waded into the fabric, feeling her feet sink and lost her balance. She fought onward to the door, feeling the flames lick at her skin and hair. She barely managed to beat out a small fire that had caught at the hem of her slip. She fumbled with the key and the lock.

A portion of the molding fell to the floor, splintering. Wooden fragments bit into her legs and back.

She cried out but kept on. "Please, oh please open!" she shouted above the roar of the fire and finally the key slammed home and she turned the scalding nob and dashed through as the ceiling caved in, carrying a wave of fire with it, that surrounded her. Choked her, burned her.

Alice fell forward. Vaguely aware of pulling herself onward. And there was blackness.