Father…High King, heir to the throne…Queen…

Honestly, what was one to say to this?

Denial seemed safe.

"I…I can't be…" Alice began, the words failing her. Her head was spinning again, though wine could hardly be blamed this time.

The Queen had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. "I hadn't planned to tell you in such an abrupt way…I'd thought tomorrow…well, this was hardly suitable…"

A near hysterical bark of laughter escaped Alice. She composed herself, "Your Majesty, I'm not sure there is a suitable way of bestowing this information…I…I think I should like to go to my rooms."

The Queen nodded in sympathy. "Of course, Alice. We shall talk more tomorrow, shall I take you?"

Alice shook her head. "I can find my way, I think I'd like some time to myself."

"Of course," Mirana rose, "Sleep well, Alice. We shall speak more on this tomorrow. I will answer any questions you may have, of course."

"Thank you," Alice said, already headed for the door. She let it close softly behind her. It was doubtful she'd sleep well - or at all, really.

She wandered the palace halls, not really thinking - it was too much. She barely paid attention to where she was going. To her surprise, she found herself at the balcony that had haunted her dreams for the past three years. The picture completed itself as she saw the tall figure in his tophat leaning against the rail. He turned at the sound of her approach.

"Alice!" he said quietly, through grinning ear-to-ear. "I had hoped you would come here! And here you came! Lovely party – we all wondered where you'd gotten to! Mally got herself stuck in a wine bottle and McTwisp had a horrid time of getting her out and the whole time that blasted vanishing cat – why, what is the matter?"

The deep concern that radiated from his expressive eyes broke shattered any thoughts of giving an evasive answer. "I…I went to get some quiet to clear my head…I found the gallery and, and there was a portrait and…I've been with the Queen."

"Oh, er…well…" Hatter looked away from her eyes. "Yes, I suppose that was rather a surprise…"

Alice laughed dryly. "And I'd say that is rather an understatement. And I suppose everyone knows?"

"I don't know if I should…"

"Tarrant!" Alice said, reaching for his hand, "Please! I was just told my father was not only from the Underland, but the High King of Underland and that I am the heir to the High Throne! Of all this!" she gestured out into the gardens the balcony overlooked, "And beyond! This is nonsense! It's impossible!"

Her hand was cold in his, delicate and trembling. He looked to her beautiful and confused face, made paler by the moonlight and her distress.

Oh this would not do.

He held the frozen shivering hand in both of his, rubbing gently as though to rub all the warmth and comfort he had back into it and so into her.

"There was a girl once, a champion of the greatest kingdom in the Underland." His wide green eyes serious and mesmerizing as they gazed into hers. "She told me that she regularly believed in six impossible things before breakfast." He took a step closer, holding the gaze of her troubled eyes. "Is this so much more impossible?"

"Oh," Alice sighed, suddenly exhausted. "I don't know. I don't know what to think. I have so many questions, and my mind refuses to settle on just one."

"Minds can be funny that way. You still have yours! That is something…"

Alice chuckled tiredly, and wrapped her arms around him. "Yes," she said, muffled against his shoulder. "I suppose it is."

His own arms rose to cradle her to him. She had stopped trembling. The softness of her hair against his cheek bested the finest silk he'd ever worked with. He let his fingers weave into her long curls. The desire to never let her go filled him, to keep her here, like this, arms wrapped around each other and that silken hair pressed against his cheek and her head pressed against his shoulder.

The only head he thought absently that I could never improve with a hat.

He'd led her back to her rooms, and she'd thanked him wearily, giving his hand a squeeze before letting the door divide the space between them.

Tarrant sighed, suddenly weary himself. It was all set in motion now – Alice would complete the tasks before her – he knew she would. If anyone in the whole Underland could, she would. She had every ounce of his faith – in fact she was beyond his faith; that she could do it all was simple truth. Look who she had become.

And beyond that, it was, after all, in her blood. In her royal blood.

And he? He was a hatter. Possibly the most magnificent hatter in all of Underland, but still, a hatter.

He would pledge himself to her, of course. He would stand by her side, as a hatter, as a warrior, as whatever she bid him to be. But as a man?

He stood, staring at her closed door. He rested his palm on the white polished wood. "I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me," he murmured, then turned and began a slow, dragging walk back to his own rooms.

What in all Underland did he have, as a man, to offer a Queen?