Chapter Text
Raven moved through the shadows of her mother’s castle, heavy velvet robes warding off the perpetual chill caught within the stone walls. Wavering sunlight struggled to penetrate the thick glass of the windows and its lukewarm rays threw stripes across the floor. Within the building itself and in the lands surrounding it, the sky was seldom clear of clouds.
The only daughter of Ever After’s monarch, Raven was used to silence and solitude. Her main sources of company were her tutors, White, Badwolf, and Thorn, and occasionally their respective children. White taught her how to represent herself and control others' perception of her, Badwolf taught war strategy and kingdom management, and Thorn taught her magic.
So, to say it was a shock to meet someone her own age unrelated to her teachers would be an understatement, but as she turned the corner a stranger almost walked right into her.
The girl in front of her was filthy, both in skin and in dress, and between the tangled mess of her black and red hair and the dried blood streaked on her limbs she seemed almost wild.
“Are you alright?” Raven asked. “You’re a mess.”
The stranger lifted her chin imperiously, green eyes narrowing.
“I am Lysandra Hearts of the Wonderians, and I shall be spoken to with respect,” she hissed.
Lessons drilled into her by White seemed to snap into existence and Raven lowered her hood, exposing her violet streaked hair and matching eyes, so similar to her mother’s, and the girl flinched a step back.
“I am Ravenous Queen,” she said. “Heir to the throne, future holder of the Storybook, and princess of this castle.”
Lysandra didn’t curtsey or bow, simply nodding once in sharp acknowledgement.
“Well met, your highness,” she said, voice level, but her hands trembled slightly. “To answer your question, I have journeyed many days, and recently lost a fight with the Night Briars, so I could be better.”
“You tried to breach the defenses at night?” Raven asked. “Whatever for?”
“I reached Queen Castle last night,” Lysandra said with a slight shrug.
“And what do you seek here?” Raven asked.
Lysandra flicked her wrist and a card appeared between her fingers. In simple black lines, it showed a man, suspended upside down, and was marked XII.
“It is not I that seek,” she said, handing Raven the card.
The moment Raven took hold of it, a jolt surged up her arm to her elbow, and she almost dropped the card. Her magic surged forward, pressing against her skin, but detected no harm done to her person.
“What is the meaning of this?” she asked.
But when she looked up she saw nothing but ripples in a mirror hanging in the hall.
“You’re distracted,” Apple said.
Raven looked at her brunch companion, then returned her gaze to the flickering flames in the fireplace, still turning the strange encounter from that morning over in her mind.
“What do you know of Wonderians?” she asked, picking at the crust of the thin sandwich held between her nails.
“What most people do, I suspect,” Apple said. “Survivors of the Wonderland Tragedy who made it to Ever After and made a home here. Why?”
“No reason,” Raven lied.
She had long since learned that Apple kept no secrets from her mother.
“If you’re curious about them, I’m sure a visit to their territories can be arranged,” Apple said, sipping her carrot juice.
“Maybe…”
“My mother says they see the world differently than most,” she continued. “Comes from originating elsewhere, I suppose.”
“A whole nation, cut off from their Setting,” Raven shuddered. “Sounds awful.”
“Better off than those left behind,” Apple said. “I doubt there’s any humanity left in those poor creatures.”
It was late afternoon, and Raven sat in the music room, plucking idly at her guitar strings. White much preferred it when she played the piano, but Raven was alone and therefore left to her own devices. Humming a half remembered tune from her childhood, Raven began to sing.
Wealth sits on a throne
Here, wells overflow
Lounging under money trees
Set to bring the whole world to its knees
It claims the air you breathe
And burns what it can't seize
There's no force as feverish as avarice, as greed
The villains claim they're saviours
As the people starve and spirits sing
Oh, the day will come when your date's read
Hear that hungry noise, see that fate’s fed
Oh, and then you'll run, but just so you know
Anywhere you go
Oh, the woods will know
“Your highness,” Hood, Badwolf’s wife, stood in the doorway, holding a basket of steaming baked goodies. “You shouldn’t sing that.”
“What?” Raven was more surprised by Hood addressing her first than by the words she’d said.
“One of your father’s people wrote that one,” she said softly. “She was a troublemaking bard. That song is not one you want to be heard singing.”
“My father is long dead,” Raven frowned. “Why does it matter?”
“Music has power, your highness,” Hood said. “It stirs the heart to rebellion. You may take after your mother but people have not forgotten your father’s treason. Now, please excuse me, I was on my way from the kitchens and I must deliver these to the conference room.”
And the red-cloaked woman hurried away.
Feeling a little out-of-sorts, Raven put her guitar back on its stand.
Night fell, and Raven lay in bed, face now bare of makeup, hair woven securely into a braid. She rubbed the card between her fingertips, the only proof she had that her bizarre visitor had indeed been real.
It is not I that seek
With a frustrated sigh, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Slipping her feet into fur slippers, she stood and walked over to one of the mirrors in her room. She touched her hand to its glass surface, feeling its cold solidness under her palm.
Then, the sensation shifted.
Cool and gelatinous, Raven was suddenly wrist deep in what should have been only an inch thick frame of glass and wood. She attempted to pull her arm back to herself but something paper thin rammed in between her shoulder blades with enough force to topple her, and then she was falling.