Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans.
Author's note: this is my first song-fic ever. I am eschewing the usual pop-rock-punk genres in favor of something more timeless and, I think, appropriate.
Raven sat on her bed. Her legs were crossed, and her eyes were closed. If she had opened her eyes, though, she wouldn't have seen much: a deep-purple drape covered the window, casting the room in a deep, opaque darkness. A short, white candle glowed feebly on her nightstand, just enough to turn the darkness into a pervasive gray.
She was meditating. On this occasion she hadn't retreated entirely into the barren space-scape of her mind – she stayed aware, humming along with a piece composed by an Austrian some three hundred years earlier.
The strings were quiet; they built slowly, lending the exact right tone as the voices joined in.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine.
Et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Te decet hymnus, Deus, in Sion,
Et tibi redetur votum in Jerusalem.
Exaudi orationem meam
Ad te omnis caro veniet.
Raven's lips moved imperceptibly as the words came, layer upon layer, from the basses to the tenors, altos, and sopranos. She knew enough Latin to understand the significance of the piece: it was a Mass for the dead.
"Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them," whispered the half-daemon silently. The words echoed in her own mind. "A hymn, O God, becometh Thee in Zion, and a vow shall be paid to Thee in Jerusalem. Hear my prayer; all flesh shall come before You."
Raven breathed deeply, reflecting on the music through the Kyrie and the overpowering Dies Irae, through the Recordare and the Confutatis. Here was a man, this Mozart, who truly understood death. Surely his insight came directly from God Himself – Raven almost smiled. An omnipotent, invisible being, judging all humans? Well, she decided, if He inspired such musical beauty, she'd play along.
She sucked in her breath as the infinitely beautiful strains of the Lacrimosa filled her room. In someone else, it might have inspired tears, but Raven remained impassive as the four voice parts entered again:
Lacrimosa dies illa,
Qua resurget ex favilla
Judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus:
Pie Jesu Domine:
Dona eis requiem. Amen.
Raven allowed herself some feeling. It was wrong to listen to such beauty and still to deny herself the opportunity to be affected by it. She loosened her grip on her powers; she had to be careful, lest she fry a lamp unnecessarily. Slowly, slowly, she let feeling flood in.
Then she read the lyrics.
"That day is one of weeping, on which the guilty man shall rise again from the ashes to be judged. Therefore spare this one, O God" – Raven shuddered; her blood ran cold; she fancied she heard the crying of millions of souls before this God. The blackness of death was complete, she knew –
"Merciful Lord Jesus, give them rest."
She knew that only in life could humans depend on the mercy of the Christ. And despair, infinite despair, so much worse than the everyday empty sadness born of years of practice, flooded her heart, and she pronounced the final word:
"Amen."
Every light-bulb in Titans Tower crackled with black energy, finally shattering, and the building was thrown into darkness. Raven's candle still burned; if anyone had been there, could have seen the tiny glint of a tear on her pale cheek.