Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Summary: When Alice agrees to a 4-week-long courtship before being intimate with Tarrant, she doesn't realize exactly what she's getting herself into.

Rating: M+ (sexual tension, adult language, mature themes, explicit sexual situations)

Beta: just_a_dram 

Artist: sierryberry  -  Fan art for The Courtship can be seen and profusely praised HERE

Notes:  Written for the 2010 aiw_big_bang Challenge.

Prologue: The Wedding Night

He is trying. After all, he’d promised Alice he would and promises must be kept!

Still, it is so very hard not to break it when she is standing before him, her dark eyes on his, silent with expectation in a room that is theirs and has been lent to them by the Queen for the sole purpose of doing all of the things Tarrant had Promised not to do until their two fortnights of courtship have passed.

Only twenty-eight days, he had thought. Surely he could survive that long without... surely Alice deserves that much wooing... surely it would take at least that long to deepen their friendship into something... Muchier.

But it has not been twenty-eight days. The Queen had interceded – as kindly and well-meaningly as possible of course – and now Tarrant finds himself with a quandary:

Will he be breaking his promise to court her properly if he touches her now?

“We’re married,” Alice observes. Her voice is a bit flat – shocked. Yes, it had all happened Very Suddenly.

“I believe so, yes,” he replies and forces himself to stay right where he is. If he were to lurch toward her now, here – in their honeymoon suite of all places – he’s sure he would startle Alice even despite her... eagerness (although she hasn’t seemed all that eager recently!) for More. Perhaps frighten her. (After all, he has given her no indication of his impatience, has he? Yes, yes, Tarrant has been very careful not to show her the true face of his Need for her!) Were he to reach for her now, he would only mean to comfort her – not to Take or Demand any sort of marital liberties! – but would he be able to stop himself there, with a small gesture of commiseration, of compassion? He... is not sure. He fears that, after everything that has occurred since that morning tea time on the hill overlooking the castle – since their... fascination-exploration-revelation in each other following the taste of squimberries and the scent of batten – he would be unable to stop himself were he to move the slightest bit.

Alice is his wife. His wife. His.

His ear itches; he fears to scratch it.

“I...” Alice says.

“Yes, quite.”

“Is this...”

Tarrant watches as Alice takes a deep breath and swallows. “Yes, Alice?”

“Is this what you want?”

The question startles him, for Alice would never have asked it only a few days ago. No, a few days ago she had sat herself on his worktable, pulled him between her thighs, had taken his hand and begged...

His fingers jerk and, mouth dry, he replies, “I am... not sure. I promised you a proper courtship, Alice.”

“Yes, I remember.”

His lips twist into a smile at her droll tone. Her opinion on the matter had been Very Clear: she had not been in favor of the... inevitable delays of a courtship. No, not at all.

The moment of silence bends, twists, stretches.

Tarrant hears himself propose, “We could request an annulment.”

“An annulment?”

Should he feel gratified – should his masculine pride puff up – at the alarm in her tone?

Regardless, he finds himself somehow... soothed by her reaction. “Aye. We could... continue with the Courtship. As we—” At her pointed look, he corrects himself. “As I intended.” He glances away nervously. “I would have liked to have asked to be your husband...” He winces at the thought of that moment gone, lost, unmade for all of time now. He’d never really expected that he would be capable of wanting to be anyone’s husband. He’d never really hoped that any woman would want him in that manner... A forbidden dream that had become reality far, far too quickly.

“No annulment,” Alice replies firmly.

He blinks at her for a moment. “But, Alice, when you touched the crown with me and...”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I... want to,” she struggles to explain.

His heart nearly explodes in his chest. She doesn’t... now, but she wants to! And, oh, he can see by the consternated expression on her face that she is trying... Does she know how very precious that gift is? So often these sorts of things are accidents – based on luck or lust or chance or even ill-fate – but Alice is deliberately trying to...! She Very Much wants to...!

“Bu’ ye’re no’ ready,” he whispers softly.

With a rather Muchy look that does a considerable amount of damage to his resolution to Stay Right Where He Is, she retorts, “I’m more than ready for some things.”

Yes, yes, she is. He tries not to remember that morning tea time, the library, the Berrying, the workshop... He forces himself to take a deep, calming breath.

“But you’re not ready, either,” she answers. “I think you were counting on those two fortnights, Ha—... Tarrant.”

He clenches his fists and fights a shudder. His given name still sounds awkward coming from her lips, traveling on the tone of her voice. But it has never sounded lovelier to his own ears. In time, when Alice has become accustomed to addressing him so familiarly, how sweet will the sound of it be then? He tells himself not to Hope... He warns himself that Alice may never feel as he does. They are friends. She cares for him. She trusts him. He reminds himself that she is young – so young – and he is old and this cannot possibly become what he wishes it will and the danger in allowing himself that close to her is...!

“Fez,” Alice announces, gaining his attention without startling him, without touching him, tempting him. Just as he had asked her to do; Alice listens to him. Alice cares enough to Really Listen to him!

“I beg your pardon, Alice. You were saying?”

“I have a suggestion, if you’d like to hear it.”

“As always, I am delighted to hear your thoughts on any matter.”

“Then, come,” she says and reaches slowly for his hand. As she threads her fingers through his, he watches her with eyes he is sure are far more luminous than normal – Alice does not wish to be Unmarried! And she is trying to...! She Wants to...! – and tries not to move without her expressed consent.

“Where to, my Alice?”

“Onto the balcony. Let’s sit at the tea table and... talk.”

“And you will tell me this idea of yours?”

“Absolutely.”

He keeps her fingers in the possession of his own – there is no need to confine her touch to his arm now! – and moves toward the pawn-shaped archway. They step outside and he assists her with her chair before taking his own. For a moment, they face each other across the bare surface of the table... and then, unable to bear the obstacle of disconnection between them, Tarrant reaches out across it, both hands open and palms turned upward. With a smile and a relieved breath, Alice places each of hers in each of his.

“Now,” he says as the heat from her touch warms him. “Tell me your suggestion, please, Alice.”

She does.

Chapter 1: The Announcement

14 days earlier...


They served pears at luncheon.

Pears.

Surely this day will be the death of her!  First that kiss – Why hadn’t he finished things? Alice had always been under the impression that men, given the chance, would have a woman under them in half a second once the woman in question had made her willingness clear! – and then the torturous, silent, un-companionable walk back to the castle – Not nearly as enjoyable as the outbound stroll... no, not at all!  Why had the Hatter been behaving so... tensely? – and now this!  Pears!

It’s enough to drive a woman to... to... to do something Rash!

Alice glances to the side, past the empty chair to her right, to where the Hatter, hat uncharacteristically tucked under his arm, is conversing in hushed tones with the Queen.  Alice’s curious gaze isn’t the only one focused on the impromptu conference and many of the court’s courtiers are already whispering amongst themselves, brewing up speculation and breeding gossip.

Alice closes her ears to the lot of it.  She is not in the mood to humor them or pretend interest in their homemade rumors.  She pointedly ignores the glances that flicker questioningly in her direction – they’d all seen the Hatter escort her to her seat and claim the one beside hers for himself before requesting a private moment with the Queen – and wonders what the Hatter could possibly be saying to the White Queen to make her look so thoroughly overjoyed?

The discussion finishes with a regal – if enthusiastic – nod, a twirl of air-bound fingertips and what could be a whispered instruction.  The Hatter nods as well (looking singularly pleased) and turns back toward the table, his hat still doffed.

As he takes the seat beside hers, sliding his hat beneath the chair, Alice opens her mouth to ask what that had been about but manages to inhale a puff of Hatter-scented air.  Her words crash together in her throat, jumbling up and dispersing on a vague choke.

“Alice?  Are you well?” he asks, leaning closer, absently unfurling his napkin and placing it on his thigh.  Frog footmen begin delivering the first course and filling glasses with scented water.

She stares at him, breathes in his scent – just a ghost of its aromatic potency here, but she remembers– and debates how exactly to answer that.

And then it’s Too Late.

“My dear friends,” the Queen announces, stepping toward her chair at the head of the table.  “It gives me great pleasure—”  So much pleasure, in fact, that the woman appears to be radiating.  “—to declare our luncheon to-day a Special Occasion.”  Appreciative murmurings echo in the tapestry be-draped hall.  The very tapestry beside which the Hatter and the Queen had conversed waves enthusiastically, obviously delighted with the news that is about to be shared.   With a delicate wave of her hand and a majestic nod down the table, the Queen directs the attention of all.  “Our Royal Hatter has an announcement he would like to make.” 

Like everyone else, Alice turns toward him.  For the tiniest instant, she wonders what he could possibly wish to say to the entire court – for he’s never shown any interest in socializing with them in the slightest – and then a perfectly Dreadful idea tickles her mind.

No... he wouldn’ t...! 

When the Hatter lays his napkin down on the table, disregards his plate, stands, turns toward Alice’s chair, places his left hand possessively on the back of it, and clears his throat loudly despite the fact that he already has everyone’s undivided attention, Alice discovers herself in a situation that is beginning to become uncomfortably familiar.

“Good luncheon, everyone,” he begins nervously.  “I beg your pardon for delaying this delightful meal, but I would like to take this opportunity – the very first opportunity! – to announce—”

Oh, no!

“—the initiation of a Courtship between Miss Alice... erm...”  He pauses, frowns mightily, glances about as if the search through his memories involves checking the bouquet at the center of the table, his collection of silverware, and the bread basket for wayward thoughts.

Frantic with her own disbelief that this is happening, that he had actually meant what he’d said about courting her properly, Alice gapes as the Hatter flounders in the midst of his announcement.  Upon completing the inspection of his surroundings, his green gaze darts toward her and his brows draw together in a sheepish expression.  He holds up a hand to beg a moment from the crowd, and then leans down to her.

In a voice that carries despite it being composed of a whisper, the Hatter lisps, “I beg your pardon, Alice, but I don’t believe I’ve ever been given the pleasure of hearing your full name.”

The absurdity of the situation makes her respond a bit tartly, “Well, I’ve never heard yours, either.” 

“Ah.  I am terribly sorry.  What with all the slaying and such I suppose the proper introductions simply slipped my mind.  Tarrant Hightopp, Haberdasher to the White Queen, at your service, madam.”

Alice finds herself automatically sliding her hand into his and marvels at the power of correct manners.  Even in the most ridiculous of circumstances.

“Alice Louisa Kingsleigh,” she replies woodenly.

“A pleasure,” the Hatter – Wait, no... Tarrant, wasn’t it? – lisps.  “And a very lovely name, indeed, Miss Kingsleigh.”

Before Alice can manage to mutter some appropriately vague reply, he straightens, still holding her hand.  “Yes, thank you for waiting, everyone.  As I was saying, I would like to announce the Courtship of Miss Alice Louisa Kingsleigh and myself, Tarrant Hightopp.”

The silence which greets this announcement is – somehow – much... Muchier than the earlier politely attentive version of it had been.  Shock, it seems, Resonates.  Especially in tapestry be-draped luncheon halls.

“Lady Alice...?!” one man chokes out, breaking the silence.  Alice hides a wince at the form of address.  She is not a Lady – she had refused (as politely as possible!) the Queen’s generous offer of becoming one, actually – but many of the courtiers, like Sir Geoffrey, have insisted on using the title when addressing her.

Alice – still caught up in the wave of shock making the rounds of the room – can only sit and stare stupidly at the assembled audience.  The Hatter’s fingers – thicker than hers, strong and rough – tighten their grasp.

It’s the Queen who intercedes on what is rapidly becoming an Awkward Situation.

“And Mister Hightopp, congratulations!” she sings, leading the half-hearted smattering of applause.   “Later, Mister Hightopp, Miss Kingsleigh, if you will join me for tea, we shall discuss the particulars of your arrangement.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” the Hatter – Tarrant! she once again reminds herself – replies.  “We  would greatly appreciate your assistance.”

We would? she muses as he takes his seat.  He brushes his thumb once over the back of her fingers before releasing her hand and then he once more airs his napkin with a flick of his wrist.  The gesture sends another Hatter-scented breeze in her direction.  She inhales helplessly, feeling her blood race.  Good Underland, has he always smelled this good?

Alice gives herself a brief shake and reaches for her salad fork.  Still, no matter how luscious he smells he should not have announced...!  Why, she hadn’t really agreed to...!  All she’d wanted was...!

“Botheration,” she growls at her plate.

The Hatter glances at her out of the corner of his eye.  His brows quirk in a silent question but Alice merely sighs and shakes her head.  She has far too much to say to discuss things now!

Still, perhaps she might catalog them for ease of reference later.  Yes.

Let’s see... First...

Oh, how mortifying it had been to realize she and the Hatter – Tarrant, blast it! – had never introduced themselves.  What had she thought she’d been doing this morning, kissing and climbing all over the lap of a man she had not even been given leave to call by his proper name?!

Still, it had seemed so insignificant at the time!  Had they not conspired against the Red Queen together, stood side-by-side on the battlefield together?  Has he not been her closest and most trusted friend and confidant since her return to Underland?  Their friendship had never required Proper Names.  She had rather liked that about it, actually.

And yet, despite her considering this man to be one of her very best of friends, what does she really know about him?  She knows he is a hatter.  She knows he is alone, without any family at all and very few friends, those being Thackery and Mally and – sometimes – Chessur.  She knows he likes walking and sharing stories.  She knows he is quite knowledgeable about Underland and its history.  She knows he can speak Tree.  She knows he is her friend and he smells divine and tastes even better and... until his blasted announcement, those things had been more than enough for Alice!

But now...  Now...!

“La, courtship!” Alice’s other seatmate – one of the younger members of Mirana’s court, a lady by the name of Philomena – says, her plump cheeks glowing.  Alice recalls her as being a friendly sort, if a bit overly excitable at times; and she appears to be ecstatic to be sitting next to the newly-claimed-in-courtship Champion. “Oh, courtships are lovely!  Especially this time of year!”

“Er... are there many couples courting at the moment?” Alice wonders aloud, her curiosity – momentarily getting the upper hand over both her shock and outrage.

“Oh, a fair few!  It’s a marvelous practice!”  Philomena pats Alice’s hand reassuringly.  “This is your first one, yes?  Well, never fear!”

“Fear?” Alice parrots apprehensively.  Just what had she tacitly agreed to?

“Now, so long as you mind the rules and follow the instructions, things will be just lovely!”  Philomena pauses, waves her salad fork in the air (to which the cutlery objects with a “Oi!  This is a bit nauseating and not proper table manners!”) and squints.  “Let’s see...”  And then she giggles and confides, “This will be my third Courtship, so you would think I could remember all the ins and outs by now...  Oh, yes!  Well,” the woman clears her throat and adopts an authoritative tone, “The most important point is that the two of you must never be alone together!  Also, you mustn’t enter each other’s private rooms.  And you shouldn’t allow him to prepare your tea for you once the Courting has begun.  Oh!  Also, it would be very poor form for you to permit him a kiss – stolen or not!  And then there’s the holding of hands – very improper!  The only point of contact may be your hand upon his arm and even then gloves and jackets with fully-lengthened sleeves are required.  You may send letters that have been approved by your chaperone and you mustn’t forget…”

Alice gapes as her overly-friendly seatmate continues with her lecture, interrupting herself every now and again to add an addendum or relate a Case In Point.  Yes, she’d been aware that kisses would not be allowed during the Courtship but... but... holding hands!  Being alone together?!  Chaperone-approved letters?!  A chaperone?!  

Ten minutes ago, Alice had had more freedom with Tarrant as his friend than she does now as his... his... whatever-she-is!  Now, it seems, there are so many things that they can’t do, that Alice despairs of them ever finding activities that they can do.

Alice stabs at her meat viciously. In retaliation it squirts her in the eye, then jeers. Put off food after such treatment, Alice is forced to do nothing more than sit back and listen to Philomena outline Alice’s Courtship—and, blast it!  If Alice had wanted to engage in a courtship with someone (which is a still-unresolved issue at the moment!) – then it should be done on her terms!

“…and you’ll simply have to do the Berrying this coming Thursday,” she enthuses. It becomes clear just why she is so insistent when she confesses, “Sir Roger and I will be there—it’ll be ever-so-much fun! But then, if you’re unable to fit it in amongst all the other Courting events and required courtship duties – naturally, you’ll have to partake in those first! – I understand. Oh, listen to me, suggesting this-and-that when you haven’t even had your meeting with the Queen yet! La!”

“I wasn’t aware there were a great many... requirements to a courtship,” Alice grits out. Her hazel eyes, narrowed with Profound Irritation, flick over to Ha…Tarrant, (she supposes she had better get used to using his given name in her head first, if she’s ever to manage to use it at all in public) but he studiously avoids her gaze as he coaxes his pudding into allowing itself to be cut. 

She does notice that his hands betray a slight tremor—as well they should, the Champion thinks viciously. 

“You mean you—?  La, but of course!” Philimina positively shrieks, and Alice wishes briefly that she could sink through her chair and into the ground when many sets of eyes return to her direction in order to stare. “You are an Uplander! You’ll not Know!” A plump hand reaches out and squeezes Alice’s arm affectionately as Philomena’s white-blonde curls bob. “Now, the very first thing you’ll do, after teatime with the good Queen, of course, is visit the Luckluster Library. Now, this is not a typical Library nor is this a usual Visit, but it’s ever so-much-fun!  Why, when I was courting Sir Edgar, we…”

Alice resists cursing the Hatter aloud, bites back a sigh, and – for the sake of her own peace of mine (what little remains of it at this point) – allows Philomena’s words to pour in her left ear and out her right.  She cannot think about this now.  If she does...

Alice’s fingers curl tighter around her dessert spoon.

If she does think about all of this now, she fears she’ll so something Very Rash, indeed!

*~*~*~*

Tarrant Hightopp is still marveling over the fact that he is no longer a single man (or, rather, that he is no longer as single as he had been just that morning!  Why, he had most definitely not expected when he had awakened earlier than usual to prepare the picnic things for his and Alice’s teatime that he would be half of a Courting pair by lunch!) when the White Queen floats behind Alice’s chair and smiles in such a benign yet firm manner that the courtiers who had dared to approach the Champion scatter like nervous chickens. Tarrant watches Alice’s face as Mirana places one hand first on the blonde’s left shoulder, then her other on his right. 

“If you both would be so kind as to come with me, we can begin to discuss the particulars of your arrangement now. I know I suggested tea time, later, but…well…” the Queen trails off and is silent for so long that Tarrant begins to suspect she had lost her train of thought (and if that is the case, then she had best join the queue to buy another ticket – train rides are not free, not even for the Queen). His eyes flick from Mirana to Alice’s suspiciously quivering lower lip. Undoubtedly the amount of attention they’ve received since his announcement is starting to overwhelm her; Alice has never been one for crowds, he belatedly remembers. He’d simply been so thrilled at the idea that she had agreed to court him that there had been no room for any other thoughts in his head besides plans for he and she and what the next four weeks would entail for them. Just as he clears his throat to agree with Mirana, she presses:

“Tea will be just as welcome now as it would have been then, will it not?” Her dark brown eyes meet Tarrant’s, and she looks down at Alice’s mostly full plate, before looking at him again and raising her brows significantly. Alice is rapidly becoming overwhelmed despite the happy occasion. Her food sits mostly untouched on her plate, a testament to this fact.

Tarrant catches the implications, recalls his silence on the walk back from the hilltop, and allows himself a moment of regret for those lost moments with Alice. 

Still, there had been speeches to Plan (not that his speechifying had gone well at all, he recalls, and his face would have burned in mortification over that fact except, thankfully,  Alice hadn’t seemed to mind in the least!) and a Queen to inform and…

Several emotions cross his face that he’s sure scream his thoughts: the wonder and slight fear and growing trepidation that the near-silence she’d seen him maintain during the meal only worked to make his Intended (and how grand does that sound?)  more nervous, rather than less. He’d never thought…but he does now! 

A possibility he’d not even allowed himself to dream is before him, and he’d decided to grasp it with both greedy hands. His Intended is not just anyone, either, but the most glorious of personages, the loveliest of lovelies, the Alice!  Why, if anyone had suggested that he would be Here – sitting next to Alice after having announced their Courtship – even as recently as yesterday, he would have...  He would have...

His heart would have broken at the thought of that impossible possibility.  But it is not impossible!  Alice had agreed to the Courting!  He had held her hand throughout his announcement!  The Queen had given them her full support and approval (which, he realizes, had been quite needful)!

Tarrant glances briefly in Sir Geoffrey’s direction.  The man is standing with a small collection of his counterparts (and these courtiers do seem to be rather interchangeable!) very obviously notparticipating in the conversation on-going around him but glaring at Tarrant.  Tarrant summons up his brightest grin and enjoys watching the man’s face blossom into a garden of angry red before he addresses the Queen’s invitation. 

“Of course, your Majesty,” he acquiesces gracefully, and Mirana straightens with a smile. 

“Whenever you are ready,” she sing-songs, floating towards the exit.

“Shall we, my dear?” Tarrant murmurs, thrilling at the fact that he may now call Alice his Dear.  In fact, the sudden freedom to do that very thing nearly makes him cackle with glee, but he manfully bites back his mirth.  Alice is stressed enough and she will, perhaps, not be of a mind to share in his mirth... despite the fact that he thinks she could do with a good, long laugh to settle her nerves.  He shall have to settle for second best in this case: providing a comforting presence. Standing, he extends his hand to Alice, who takes it with alacrity. The warmth of her touch against his roughed palm and fingers sends a pleasant jolt through his body, and he can feel his smile grow wide, wider than it’s been, he’s sure, in a very long time. He tucks Alice’s hand into the crook of his arm, reveling in her easy acceptance of his gesture. 

They reach Mirana’s study door in good time. How Tarrant manages to make it there without once tripping over his feet, he’s uncertain, as he spends the entire journey looking at Alice and not the ground upon which he treads. There is a faint flush high on her cheeks. He just barely checks the urge to run the back of his fingers across that pinkness. He lurches forward with the notion, and Alice steadies him with a hand on his opposite arm.

Instead of inquiring as to his welfare, as he’d expected-hoped-longed for, she releases his arm and returns her attention to the Queen. Tarrant is gratified to note, however, that the flush on her cheeks is even deeper now than before she had touched him. An ever-growing-familiar-and-not-unwelcome feeling flutters in his chest.

He considers this fluttering feeling and has to stop himself from shaking his head in rueful wonderment.  Precisely one week and one eaten pear ago, he had not felt this way for Alice.  She had been his friend.  She had warmed him with her humor and caring and Alice-ness.  A week and a pear ago, he would have given his life to save hers.  During the Revolution, he had taken such a risk several times, but all with the end goal of bringing down the Bluddy Behg Hid in mind.  Now, however...  Now he feels brave enough to wrestle a Jabberwocky for her; he feels strong enough to climb the Crimson Cliffs from crashing ocean waves to rigid rocky edge; he feels tall enough to reach up and pluck tea trays from the sky!  Yes, now he would do far, far more than merely surrender his life for far, far humbler goals.   He cannot think of a single thing he would not willingly do to see Alice smile.  Surely, this means that this fluttery feeling in his chest... surely this must mean that he has somehow fallen (or perhaps slipped or tripped) in love with—!

A gentle tug on his arm keeps him from crashing into the Queen.  With a start, he realizes that they have arrived at their destination.  And again he had neglected to speak to Alice – his Intended! – during the journey.  He bites back a sigh; yes, Alice has every right to be irritated with him over that.  He must do better at attending to her!  Still, his distraction is understandable, he thinks: Why, Alice hadagreed to the Courting and... and...

That fluttery feeling vibrates even stronger beneath his breastbone.

The Queen slowly grasps for her keys, and Tarrant sees her study her Champion from under her eyelashes as she does so. A look of calculation passes over her features, barely visible unless one is looking for it, or has seen it in the past.

Looking from Mirana to Alice, he sees that the gob smacked expression is still etched on his Intended’s  face. The Queen’s intentions become clear when she burbles, “If you will but give me a few moments? There are a few things that… need tidying up.”

It is a White Lie, yes.

But Tarrant does not care—he agrees that perhaps a bit of privacy with Alice is not remiss. They will have precious little of it in the coming weeks, after all. There is no one around to speak against them being granted these few moments, either—not that any would comment on such a thing even if they were present, with the Queen herself being the one to grant them this favor. 

Mirana doesn’t wait for either of them to answer; she simply slips around her door and shuts it.

*~*~*~*

The door clicks shut with an audible clack, and Alice immediately rounds on the Hatter. She barely refrains from smacking him on the arm like a petulant child.

“What did you go and do that for?” she hisses, perplexed and more than a little shamed. The entire affair at luncheon had reminded her a little too greatly of Hamish’s proposal party, complete with far-too-many sets of round eyes staring and an overly-enthusiastic blonde giving her unasked for and unnecessary advice.

“Do what?” Tarrant asks her, clearly confused despite his obvious and overwhelming expression of quiet joy. This simply serves to unnerve and infuriate her even more. “Oh! You mean... I am sorry Alice. I have been far too quiet during our walks this afternoon.”

“What? No! No. Why... announce…that announcement…at luncheon!” Alice’s Irritation is enough that she has a difficult time expressing herself in words. Somehow, she is able to force just enough of the sentence past her lips to be understood, though, for she sees the moment Tarrant comprehends her meaning. His face falls. His honest dumbfoundment vanishes... along with all traces of happiness. Alice feels a twinge in the region near her heart at the sight.

Brows twitching, he looks down at his hands. “Why would I not?” he nearly whispers. Swallowing hard, he adds in a louder tone, “Ye’d agr’d ta tha Courtin’, Alice….There would be naught to be gained from waitin’ except muir time betwixt now and that which ye wish ta occur.” Worry flashes across his face. “Unless ye’ve already changed yer mind…”

“Changed my mind?” Alice echoes. “How could I do that when I’d never made it up in the first place?!  How precisely did I indicate to you that I wanted this?”

His expression hardens, sends a shiver up her spine. He leans closer, his tone lowering. “When ye were devourin’ mae like ye di’ tha’ pear, Alice. Or d’nae ye recall?”

Despite sudden heat flaming within her and upon her face at the reminder, she rebuts, “I recall you interrupting the proceedings and nattering on about courtships and such!”

“’Twas needful at th’ time,” he rumbles.

“What was needful was a clear explanation of why I should consent to this in the first place!” Indeed. From what she’d heard from Lady Philomena, the practice sounds perfectly wretched!

Lips compressing in a scowl, Hatter turns from her, eyes shut tight. “And why should ye? I didna even know yer full name!”

Before Alice protests that she hadn’t planned on kissing him (and if she had, she would have had the good sense to ask him his proper name first!), he rounds upon her with a sudden motion. Alice can’t stop the spike of alarm she feels at the horrible, tortured grimace on his face.

Tarrant spits angrily, voice rising alarmingly, “Do ye see what ye do ta mae, Alice? This is why the four weeks of Courtin’ are needful! I want ye ta love mae as a man, no’ as a beast with nae true name, someone who’s only use ta ye is ta satisfy the cravin’s o’ yer body!”

Alice would have been insulted – most definitely! – at his insinuation that she simply wishes to ‘use his body’ (Is he not still her friend, as well? Even if they…well, that wouldn’t mean that their friendship would change, would it?) had her mind not ceased functioning at a very important word earlier in his ranting statement. She keeps blinking heavily, as if by doing so, her brain might once more be able to process thoughts.

Love?

Love?

She very nearly speaks the first thought that does manage to come to mind: What has love anything to do with this? She wants him. He clearly is – or, at least, he had been! – of a similar feeling on the matter! This is about how irresistibly amazing he smells, tastes, feels to her. This isn’t about love! In fact, when is anything about love? Love certainly hadn’t been involved when Hamish had proposed! In fact, Alice rather suspects that her sister loves being Lady Manchester more than she actually loves the man whose name she has taken!

But she can see, as she looks into the Hatter’s flashing eyes and watches his brows twitch with quiet stress... Yes, she can see that – amazingly – this is about love... to him.

Oh, Alice. How could you be so insensitive!

It is as unexpected as it is moving that the Hatter – Tarrant! – would equate lovemaking with actual Love.

Instantly contrite, she takes a step towards him, laying one hand on his arm. He has to understand that she’d never intended for that! She never would have asked for...

Alice doesn’t know if she is ready for something as serious or involved as what courtship seems to mean to him (and despite her insistence on following the rules and minding the instructions, Lady Philomena had seemed rather blasé about the whole thing – she certainly hadn’t felt any inhibitions whatsoever in confessing to this being her third one!) nor does Alice know if she’s ready for…for…that! Tarrant’s eyes are enormous in his pale face as he looks down first at her hand, and then back up and into her eyes, as if that touch upon his arm is more important than anything else in the history of Ever.

“Hatter, I—” she begins to say, hoping she will be able to find the right words, (and just why are words so slippery for her today?) when—

The door to the study opens, and the Queen steps out, smiling. “I am ready for you now. Please, come in.”

Alice fancies something like disappointment drains the expectant, hungry look from Tarrant’s features, but he rallies quickly enough. “Thank you, your Majesty,” he says.

She hates that look, she decides, that particular No-of-course-nothing-is-wrong! Look... and Takes Steps to rectify it. Above all else, the Hatter is her friend and he needs... something. And after all the other misunderstandings that have occurred today, she is not going to let another one happen now. Not when she can prevent it.

The Hatter gestures for her to precede him into the room, but Alice has other ideas.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but we’ll need another five minutes. Thank you.” And then she shuts the door on the Queen’s burgeoning – and highly amused – smile.

Alice turns toward the Hatter – no, toward Tarrant for he is Tarrant right now; he is a man with a heart that should be whole and his own and before this situation becomes any more convoluted, she needs to talk to him!

Alice grasps his upper arms. “Tarrant,” she says and watches as his eyes light up and relief shrugs the clinging layer of tension from his being.

“Yes, Alice?” he replies in a hopeful whisper, leaning toward her.

“You need to know that I... I...”

“Yes?” The word is barely a whisper and she suspects that he’s holding his breath.

“You’re my friend,” she tells him. “And I... Do you want this? This Courtship?”

Perhaps she will know herself better once she knows what it is he wants...

“I want ye, Alice,” he replies softly but with a confidence that Alice instantly envies. “Ye’re mae friend, tae. I d’nae want ta lose tha’. An’ if’n ye’re wantin’... muir than tha’, then... aye, I want aur Courtship. ’Twould make me ver’happy ta know ye’ll stay in Underland fer aul time...”

She frowns. “But, I told you I wouldn’t be going back to London.” Won’t. Can’t.

“Aye, an’ I heard ye.”

“But you didn’t believe me?” That hurts more than all the rest. That hurts more than when he’d pushed her away on that hilltop, more than the betrayal of his luncheon announcement.

“I... I... do not know,” he confesses, his brows twitching with the disturbing realization. “I promise I shall give it due consideration and relay my conclusions but at the moment I would very much like to know... Alice, do you want this Courtship?”

Alice closes her eyes. Sighs. “I do not like limitations, rules. If I enjoyed those things I would never have left London.”

When she opens her eyes, Tarrant is still leaning toward her hopefully, but there is a thread of apprehension holding him away from her now. “Ye’re nea keen ta tha rules o’ aur Courtship.”

Alice nods. She doesn’t trust herself to speak regarding this point. Once she begins voicing her displeasure on it she is unsure she’ll be able to stop herself from getting carried away. And this is most definitely not a moment to allow oneself to be carried away from.

“Alice...” She watches as he searches for his own slippery words, this time among the draperies and wingback chairs in the sitting room. “Tha courtship rites... ’Twere nae meant ta limit a couple, but ta show them their aun hearts. Ta open those hearts, if’n ’tis at aul possible.”

“And you want to try this... with me...” she concludes.

Yes, it makes sense now. Tarrant does not want to... engage in intimate activities with someone he doesn’t love. The courtship is meant to show people their hearts, which will help him discover if it possible for him to love her or not... if he loves her enough to give her what she wants...

For some reason, that thought makes her very uncomfortable.

“And after the Courtship...?” Alice whispers. She glances up at him.

He frowns, glances away, takes a deep breath before returning his attention to her. “We d’nae hav’ta wed a’ tha conclusion o’ tha Courtship. Many couples d’nae. They go their separate ways.”

“So we would no longer be friends?!” she very nearly shouts, alarmed.

“Hush, Alice. I’ll always be yer friend.”

She sees the promise in his earnest, green eyes and feels the knot of panic ease away from her heart and dissolve... mostly.

“And the other?” Alice asks a bit apprehensively. She does not think her opinion regarding marriage will change anytime soon, but she’d still very much like to continue where they had left off that morning. “If I still want...?”

Alice! What are you doing? You’re asking the Hatter to love you enough to...?!

But we’ll still be friends! Everything will be fine! she argues back, shushes that shocked and shamed inner voice.

He nods, slowly. “Aye. Gi’me these twine fortnights, an’... we need nae be wed ta... continue this morn’s tea.”

“If you are agreeable,” Alice feels compelled to add.

He nods and swallows thickly.

“Then, all right,” she relents. “I agree. To the Courtship.”

Tarrant’s smile returns.  (Unfortunately it is neither as bright nor as joyous as it had been at luncheon.)  He takes another cleansing breath and glances at the door, his brows rising in inquiry. Alice takes a deep breath herself and nods. He reaches for the door knob and as he does so, his other hand brushes down her arm. The sensation of his rough, warm fingertips making contact with the bare skin of her wrist sends a shiver down her spine. The touch scatters her thoughts and, the next thing she knows, she’s regarding the face of the Queen, who is smiling in pleasant expectation.

“Everything all discussed then?” she hums happily.

“Everything, Your Majesty?” the Hatter replies with a startled look. “Not hardly! No, no, there are far too many topics available for discussion for all of them to have been discussed in the first five minutes and then the second five minutes which... Oh! I beg your pardon, Your Majesty!” he exclaims, noticing the clock in the room and the time. “That was a bit more than five minutes, wasn’t it?”

Mirana smiles as she pirouettes gracefully toward the tea table. “Perhaps... Perhaps not! Five-minute discussions will require precisely five minutes, however long that takes!”

Alice finds herself openly admiring the grace and generosity that statement demonstrates. She allows the Hatter – Bugger all! Tarrant! – to seat her at the tea table. He pours her tea (which she supposes is technically still allowable since they haven’t actually done any courting yet) as the Queen explains, “Now, Alice, as you are rather new to Underland and its customs, permit me to tell you what a courtship entails...”

Alice lifts her teacup when Mirana pauses, smiles and nods to the Hatter in thanks for attending to her cup, and takes a sip.

“Thank you,” Alice whispers to him and his answering smile is so utterly handsome she doesn’t have the heart to tell him that her tea is too sweet.

“Now, there are five instructions that must be followed precisely in a successfully completed courtship and each can be done with as little or as much time as you both like or require.” The Queen pauses here and inquires, “Unless you have set a duration for your Courtship?”

“Yes. Two fortnights, Your Majesty,” the Hatter supplies helpfully.

“Ah. I see.” Her brows twitch with something that might be Worry or Upset. “Two fortnights is rather...”

Alice has the impression that the Queen is on the verge of suggesting a much longer span of time so Alice hurries to reassure her. “If the Hatter—” She mentally pinches herself for once again not using the man’s given name. “—may be excused from his regular duties, I believe two fortnights will be plenty of time.”

“Oh, but of course! Tarrant, you do know that no hats whatsoever will be required of you while you are engaged in your own Courtship?”

He nods. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Well. Two fortnights it is then,” the Queen continues with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. “So, as I was saying, there are five instructions. And in following them, it is vital that historical accuracy be observed. These instructions are: Get to Know Each Other, Behold the Key to Thine Heart, Speaking From the Bottom of Thy Heart, Uncover Thine Secrets, and Reap What Ye Has Sown. Any questions so far, Alice?” the Queen asks solicitously, breaking for a sip of tea.

Alice gapes at her. Luckily, the Hatter not only speaks Tree but also Alice Silence.

“Ahem, perhaps,” he interjects in a helpful tone, “if we were given some examples of acceptable activities? I vaguely recall that Getting to Know Each Other involves a trip to the library?”

“Ah, yes, it does indeed,” the Queen continues. “And I beg your pardon, Hatta, it had not occurred to me that you would also like to be reminded of the particulars.”

“It... has been a long time since I last heard... And even then I did not concern myself with the details.”

“Yes, yes. Of course. I am sorry. Now,” the Queen says decisively, hauling the three of them back to the topic of tea. “It’s traditional for the Courting couple to spend a series of afternoons in the Luckluster Library. As the focus of Getting to Know Each Other is a Meeting of Minds, a library is very useful in accomplishing this.”

The Queen pauses and sips her tea. Alice is still not clear on what, precisely she and the Hatter –Damnation! Tarrant!! – are supposed to do in a library. Perhaps... “Are we to... read to each other?” Alice ventures. “Or discuss works we’ve enjoyed?”

“Oh, something very similar to that, yes,” the Queen replies. “The library behaves a bit differently for each Courting couple, you see, so it’s very hard to say one way or another – with any certainty – what to expect.” No doubt seeing Alice’s alarmed expression, the Queen hurriedly adds, “But it will be a library, Alice. Nothing more, nothing less. Hopefully, your time in there together will provide you with a direction for the next few days... until it is time for you to Behold the Key to Your Heart.”

“And, how long will each... instruction take?”

“As long as is necessary to fulfill the spirit of each.” The Queen gives her a comforting smile. “When the library shows you the Key, you will know it is permissible to Move On.”

If that is supposed to somehow make sense to Alice... then the Queen has failed abysmally at explaining the concept.

“Before you can begin, however, we shall have to locate a chaperone.”

Alice – very bravely – refrains from making a face. Tarrant leans forward and suggests, “I do not believe Thackery would have any objections. And it might do him a bit of good to get out of the kitchen.”

“And our Royal Chefs back into it! A wonderful suggestion! Alice? Do you concur?”

“Um... yes?”

“Wonderful! As custom dictates, I shall approach him on your behalf. If all goes well, when shall I have him stop by your rooms, Hatta?”

“Oh, well, Alice? When would you like to pay a visit to the library?”

“Well... I don’t have any plans for this afternoon...” In fact, she’d left her entire day open – had turned down Sir Geoffrey’s rather persistent invitation to a game of table tennis – so that she might accompany the Hatter – Bloody hell! – to the workshop after lunch and investigate the oddities there. It has been well over a week – before the Pear Incident, actually – since she’d visited the cozy, eclectic atmosphere of her friend’s workplace. Alice has missed listening to him prattle on about this fabric or that ribbon and the hands, hooves, paws, or fins that had made them and the fascinating lands from whence they had traveled...

“This afternoon it is, then,” the Queen declares with such delight that Alice is cheered despite herself. “Alice, where may Tarrant call on you when Thackery is ready to accompany you?”

“I suppose I’ll be in my rooms.”

“Ah. Hatta...?” she sings in a warning tone.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Looking appropriately cowed, he recites, “’Not one toe over the threshold.’ I remember that rule.”

“And the others?”

The Hatter announces them indicating each with a raised finger until he exhausts the list and the Queen is satisfied. “All clear Alice?”

Somehow, Alice manages a nod. While the Courtship itself is still a mystery to her, the Rules had been very clear. Unfortunately.

“Now, off you both go and you’ll meet again very soon!”

And so off Alice goes... alone to her rooms and even more confused about this whole courting business than she’d been only two hours ago on a picnic blanket overlooking Marmoreal Castle.