Cora entered her dressing room, bidding farewell to the ladies-in-waiting who typically accompanied her. She had just set her state crown on the marble table in the center of her dressing room when she heard a rustle of curtain. Quicker than a flash, she withdrew two ruby-studded daggers from beneath her gown, throwing one at the curtain and holding the other forward protectively in front of her. While she had a panic button in her room capable of summoning guards, she was concerned that the crucial seconds it would take for her to turn around, exit into her connecting bedroom, and do so, would be enough for an interloper to turn into an assassin.
And she had not gone through hell to get her throne only to be cut down in her dressing room. Her chances were best if she kept the attacker confined in this space. For now that she knew they were there, she had no doubt she could win one-on-one.
Before Cora could demand they announce themselves, a familiar voice drawled, “Ow, princess. Is that how you greet an old friend?” Cora’s heart stopped as she retrieved a second dagger, breathing slowly to calm herself as Raphael stepped out from behind the curtain.
“We’re not friends, Raph,” she asserted as she scanned the dressing room, “How did you get in here?” From Cora’s perspective, she couldn’t see a trail of broken glass, nor any dents in the wall. So he hadn’t broken in. Similarly, it was her own guard who had let her in. She had recognized their faces, and they were alive and well.
Dressed in his standard black leather cloak, Raphael tilted his head as he mused, “No, I suppose we aren’t. As for how I got in...Wonderland doesn’t examine its wine, does it? Especially on unbirthdays?”
Cora sucked in a breath. Of course. A son of the Church would tamper with wine. Every guard in the palace was entitled to a celebratory glass on an (acknowledged) unbirthday of one of the Royal Family. Today, Cora had formally acknowledged one of her mother’s unbirthdays (partly to give Ardenzana something to do and stop trying to sneak into the throne room). Even the ones outside her rooms. Though how had he timed it? And, uncomfortably, Cora realized she’d have to start employing tasters. She hadn’t wanted to reinstate the barbaric custom, but if Raphael could get into her personal quarters, she had a serious security problem.
Echoing her thoughts, Raph stepped towards her, lifting a hand towards a curl that had strayed from her updo when she’d removed her crown, “It was too easy. You clearly need someone to protect you. You’ve got to be more careful, princess.” His eyes glinted in the candelight of her chandelier, and it was only then that Cora saw the blood from the cut dripping down the side of his face. The sight shook her out of her daze, and she raised the dagger to ward him away:
“Don’t touch me. And you forget yourself- I’m a crowned queen. I go by ‘Your Royal Majesty.’”
Raphael laughed, but dropped his hand to his side. Cora, still suspicious, kept her daggers raised, even as he simultaneously managed to respect and mock her all at once:
“That’s true. You are a crowned queen, Your Royal Majesty. And everyone knows it. That makes them interested in you.”
Cora digested his words as Raphael began to walk around the dressing room. He honored her request to stay out of her space, but her blood began to simmer as he started to examine her gowns and jewels. As if he had a right to be there. As if he owned them. As the simmering threatened to turn to boiling, she reminded herself that this was a game. And as Wonderland’s queen, she had to win. Raphael would not go through the trouble of breaking into her palace, drugging her guards, or hiding in her palace for a social call (not that he would be welcomed, either). He would, however, deliberately pour salt on wounds and try to get a rise out of her while doing so. She wouldn’t allow that.
Still, he couldn’t be here representing himself.
“Who are you here for?” Cora asked, making a mental note to get her ladies to call the jeweler and seamstress to melt down and deconstruct everything he touched.
“I can’t just be here for me?” Raph inquired, laying a hand over his heart. He leaned against her dresser and smirked. Cora didn’t reply, instead staring him down. Seeing she wasn’t going to engage, his smirk faded and he finally admitted:
“I come on behalf of the Council of Regents. They want to meet with you.”
Cora ran through a mental list of every monarch and kingdom she knew, whether recognized under the Auradonian empire or not (for while Mal and Ben ruled as de facto emperor and empress over them, at least for now, they recognized the royal families of the kingdoms they absorbed). None had regencies in place. She had no idea what he was talking about.
“I’m afraid I don’t recognize them.”
At that, Raphael laughed, and this time his amusement seemed genuine, “Oh, but Your Royal Majesty,” he somehow managed to make her title sound like an insult, “that’s where you’re wrong. You do know them, and quite well, too.”
“If I know them,” Cora riposted, “they can send an invitation, like everyone else, and we can schedule a time to meet, in their court or mine.”
“They’re not like everyone else. No heralds, no invitations, no etiquette like this.”
“If they don’t use heralds, what are you?” Cora raised the dagger again as Raph tried to step closer. She could she, from his expression, that she’d touched a nerve. While he tried to keep the smirk planted on his face, his eyes were bright with anger. She hadn’t meant to upset him- as much as she wanted him out of her palace -but she needed information. And Raphael clearly was annoyed that not only did she not fall for his game, but that she was trying to end it early. And worse...she’d done something else. She’d insulted him, somehow- but she couldn’t figure it out.
Though that was par for the course with him, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.
A long moment passed, and finally, he said, “I’m a reminder. About who you should trust. And who you need to look out for.”
Cora’s veins turned to ice. Aloud, she asked, “And if I decide I want to meet with them?”
Raphael shrugged, “Then you’re probably the only intelligent person with a crown right now. See you around, princess.”
Then he lunged towards her and blew incense in her face. Instinctively, she gasped and moved back- only to breathe it in. Her world swirled around her as she fainted; the last sound she heard was him laughing as he escaped.