Author's Note; Hello everyone! This is my very first FF ever. I am a VERY active reader on here and have been for years, but just the other day, I had this idea for a story and I have gotten no sleep because of it. It refuses to leave my head until I put it on paper... er.. computer. Anyways, I am not sure how this story will turn out or even what exactly it is going to be about, but I hope that whoever decides to read this will enjoy it, or at least find it interesting. Happy reading! Please leave me feedback on what you think, good or bad, I would love to hear what you thought about it. Thanks and enjoy!
Warnings: I am not sure where I am taking this fic, so I am not sure what the rating should be, I am going to stick to M to be safe. This chapter contains blood and gore in somewhat graphic details. I am also sensing that this fic will be dark, so no fields of wildflowers. If you are not up for it, please hit the back button at the top of your browser. If this stuff does interest you, feel free to read. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, because if I did.. It would not have been a kid's show on CN.
Titan's Kingdom
A single tear rolled down her gaunt ashen cheek. Her young face was drawn and worn as she silently watched the chaos surrounding her. Her haunted amethyst eyes roamed over the bodies slowly, barely registering the twisted, bloody faces of the holy women and care takers who had watched over her for the last five years. Her thin wispy body shivered slightly despite the heat of the raging fire, blazing all around her.
The question, 'Why does everyone always die?' echoed around in her small head. There was no one left to answer her, so the question would stay there, in her head. She tried to swallow, but there was no saliva to swallow. It felt as if all of her body's liquids had been sucked up into the fire and turned into nothingness. Even the singular tear that had managed to escape her eye was gone, not even a moist trail left to remember it by.
Her lips quivered softly as her eyes made contact with her favorite bed mate, for, no longer was he the adorably fluffy kitten who slept on her pillow every night. No, now, now his silky red fur that she had so loved to pet until he purred in delight, was charred black and smelled of burnt death. His beautiful blue eyes that used to stare up at her pleadingly, in order to be held, were now melted and bubbling out of his tiny head. His cute little mouth was frozen open in a silent scream of terror.
She tore her eyes away from the creature, the image burned into her retinas. She forcibly turned her body away from the carnage surrounding her and, with effort, made her trembling legs carry her in the opposite direction. There was no point in staying there. She was the only one left alive.
As she stepped over the mutilated body of what was once a calf, she thought about how ironic the situation was. She was alive. Thousands of people and animals were dead. She was the original target, yet, here she was, living and breathing while everyone around her was as toasted and black as her evening fire-pit.
She remained detached as her foot sloshed through a particularly deep puddle of thick red blood. Her body was numb. She felt nothing. Her mind was numb. Her thoughts were unemotional. Her heart was numb. Because if It wasn't, she would not be able to go on living.
She reached up to tuck her recently chopped locks behind her ear and away from her vision. The holy women had known something was wrong this morning, for they had ushered her into the holy place, taking her book away from her, and without explanation, hacked off her long, limp, locks. She had screeched in horror as she watched the deep purple strands fall around her feet. The holy women had slapped her soundly then, right on the face, which had never happened before. Then they told her to take off her light green dress, which had been her favorite, and to get into a pair of dirty Grey breeches. After practically yanking the breeches on, the holy women began to bind her breasts, tightly, with some scraps of cloth. One holy woman held her hands above her head, while another pulled the cloth tighter and tighter, until she thought she was going to pass out from lack of breath. It had hurt so much, it probably still would, if she wasn't so numb.
She fingered the rough fabric of the boy's tunic absent-mindedly, as she wondered how the holy women had known there was going to be an attack that evening. 'If they had known about it, why had no one told her, and why had no one fled?' It was another one of the questions echoing around in her skull that would get no answer.
Her foot caught on something and she stumbled forward, her arms not working enough to catch herself, she crashed face first into the harsh earth. Pain shot through her face with enough force that it took her breath away. Struggling to move her aching body, she sluggishly pushed against the earth hard enough to roll herself onto her side. She blinked against the harsh pain and tried not to swallow the blood that came gushing out of her nose and down into her mouth. 'Well, that is one way to end the numbness.' She thought, though she doubted if she would ever like to use this method again.
Bringing a shaking hand up to her face, she felt her nose and had to bite back a cry from the stinging pain and the fact that her nose would never again be like that of a pixie. From the feeling of it, she would be lucky if it stayed on her face. Grabbing a hold of her nose, after locating it underneath her right eye, she bit down on her tongue and wrenched it back to the middle of her face, where it belonged. Her scream was sharp and long as blood poured down her throat and pooled in her stomach, causing waves of nausea to hit her, along with bouts of dizziness. She closed her eyes and refused to let go of her nose, until she was positive that it would not go wandering around her face. When she was sure that it would not move again, she gingerly released the pressure on her nose. No sooner had she placed her hands in her lap, when her stomach decided to rebel against the blood build up. She clenched her delicate hands into fists as she doubled over and heaved. Bile and blood came spurting out of her mouth and nose so forcefully, she pitched forward. The pain so intense, she saw colors behind her eye lids until everything went blessedly black.
Blinking her eyes open, she flinched at the nasty smell of bile, blood, and rotting flesh that permeated the air. Warily touching her face reinforced her decision to not breathe out of her nose for awhile. Her face was so swollen, she doubted anyone would recognize her as herself. Taking a big gulp of air through her mouth proved difficult both because of the bindings and because the stench could now be tasted. She had always been a curious child, but never had she had the desire to know what death tasted like. Well, she knew now anyway.
She struggled to sit up, her head and muscles protesting. When fully erect, her face and skull started to pound mercilessly. She could not control the small groan that escaped her throat as she tried to stand. She had no idea where she was, for her eyes were much too swollen to properly use, but she knew she could not be too far from the holy place because the smell of death was everywhere. Unless of course, the smell was coming from her. Cocking her head to the side, she lifted the hem of the scratchy tunic to her tender nose and took a sniff. Instantly, she regretted it. Not only was the smell indeed coming from her, but the action went against her earlier better judgment and caused her nose to start bleeding down her throat again.
"Great.." She moaned out in her harsh raspy voice as she tilted her head down so the blood would not pool in her innards again. The sound of her voice felt strange to her ears. Not because she sounded much different from her usual self, because she really didn't, but because she had not heard a sound until that very moment. She thought back to the last sound she had heard that day, and was surprised to note that it had been as the holy women were pulling her roughly through the kitchens, all dressed up as a lad, and pushed her into the storage room, telling her in loud whispers to not make a sound and to pretend she was a deaf-mute kitchen boy as she shoved a large cap over her small head. She assumed it was to hide the odd color of her hair. No one else had hair the same color purple as she did.
After that, it was as if her ears really did close up. She had not heard the raiders come, nor had she heard the explosions that rocked the holy place, eventually bringing the building down around her. She had not heard the people screaming and crying. She should have, really, because she could see it. Right through the cracks of the storage room door. But it all happened in a slow motion, like she was watching a strange theatrical play with no noise. Then, she remembers being blown backwards, the storage room door flying into her, sending her at least twenty paces backwards into the far wall. The pain was intense, then, darkness. After she awoke, there was nothing to be heard. She was the only one alive to make any noise.
Grabbing her head, which felt like it weighed as much as her favorite thoroughbred, she rocked herself into a standing position. Slowly, because really, it hurt, she pried her swollen eyes open and tried to see over her puffy flesh. She was still on the path that led from the holy place to the holy well. She was well over one hundred paces away from the holy place, which was good. She was still unsure of where she was headed. What place would want a beaten twelve-year-old girl pretending to be a deaf-mute kitchen boy from the holy place? As far as she knew, no one. In fact, as far as she knew, there was no where TO go! She had been on this particular piece of holy ground for five years and the only people she had seen were the holy women and the care takers who had come from her previous home with her. There were servants and children that would frequent the holy place, but they all lived on the holy land as well. As far as she knew, all of their food came from the holy land and the animals, no one brought them anything, so she doubted there was a merchant around, let alone a town with an inn.
Sighing, she decided to relieve her aching bladder in the nearby bushes. Ever so slowly, she trudged over to the biggest bush, as it would provide the most cover. She was surprised to find herself limping, favoring her right foot. Knowing it would be futile to try and look down at her foot, as she could not see over the swelling of her nose, she waited until she had sat down to urinate before she brought her leg up to her eye level to look at the damage. She sucked in a tight breath as she took in the sight of her twisted limb. Her poor foot was three times its original size and a very deep shade of blackish purple. It made the ashen color of her skin look even more ashen than it usually did. Setting her leg down gently, she grit her teeth in frustration as she looked around for something to wipe herself with.
'What other twelve-year-old girl has such rotten luck?' She asked herself mentally. She was not willing to draw attention to her location in case anymore of those raiders just so happened to be looking for any survivors. 'No other person could ever have your bad luck, God specifically gave it all to you.' She thought bitterly. She knew God hated her. There was not a single drop of doubt in her mind. She was created out of hatred, meanness and Satan were what her soul was made up of, and she was so hideous even her mother had died after looking at her. Everything she touched or loved either died or got taken away from her. She was un-lovable, unwanted, and the cost of many lives. She had been told this her whole life, so, why should she believe differently? This was the longest she had ever lived in one place, where no one had died or left. Now… Now it was time to move on again. She just did not know where she was supposed to go. Normally, there were backup plans, but unfortunately, this holy land WAS her backup plan. They weren't supposed to actually find her here!
She could feel that it would be dark soon and knew that she needed water and cover before she could even think about relaxing. It was strange and a little unnerving how she could Feel the darkness, like it was a part of her. The holy women had shrieked and thrown holy water on her when she made that comment once. After that, she realized it was easier to keep to herself. She did all of her talking internally. She even made up other versions of "her" in her head so she would not feel so lonely. They actually became very useful on days, or nights, when she felt alone and unsure of why she existed. She would grab a small looking glass, close her eyes, and pretend she entered it, where she would meet with all the different aspects of herself that she keeps locked up away from everyone. Her favorite, was Darkness. She looked just like her, only Her hair was the most beautiful shade of black, with matching twinkling eyes and She wore dark dresses and liked to hide in only the darkest of places in her mind. There were many more, but Darkness was her favorite, because she was the most mysterious. The others were aspects of herself that she knew already, but Darkness was elusive, always trying to draw her further into her mind, promising answers if she would just look Deeper… It was just a little too deep for her liking, so she would always retreat. Afraid that if she went any deeper, she would never be able to come back to the light.
Rubbing her head to relieve the aching, she stood slowly and hobbled back to the path, looking around for what it was that had caused her gravity induced misfortune. Shaking her head slowly and grimacing, she turned away from the severed arm lying on the path and decided not to curse the owner of the arm for causing her fall. The poor person was unlucky enough.
Walking along the path proved both difficult and tiring. The path itself was only slightly overgrown, but it seemed as if her enlarged limb was magically attracted to any part of the earth that was uneven, causing her to pitch in every which way precariously before catching her balance again. She threw the over-big boy's cap into the woods with a mental curse that would have the holy women's corpses shrieking in outrage, before it could slip back down over her eyes again, impairing her already too impaired vision.
Eyes suddenly shining, amidst the misshapen and discolored face, she let out a small gasp of glee when the holy well finally graced her vision. She tried not to hold her breath as she waddled over to the holy well, her mouth instantly unbearably dry. She smiled, even though the action caused much more pain and discomfort than it did pleasure, as she grasped the cool stones that made up the base of the well.
Her painful smile quickly turned into a painful frown as she looked down into the very deep, very shallow, depths of the very old well. There was no way to get to the water without procuring some sort of rope or a ladder and heading down there. She was sorely tempted to just dive down and happily live the rest of her sorry existence in the clear liquid. But that was impossible, aside from the fact that she would likely not survive the fall, she did not like the notion of surviving this attack to be felled by a holy well. She clenched tightly to the cold stone and sent a horrific glare upwards toward the ever darkening sky. The glare made all the more terrifying by the crusted blood around her abnormally swollen nose and mouth. Her face rightly resembled more of a demon creature than that of a little girl.
"Really?!" She screeched out painfully, "Am I so cursed that You withhold water from me simply because it's Holy?! Am I to die from thirst?! Why did You spare me from the raiders then?!" Throat throbbing from the words being wrenched from her throat, she quickly sank to the ground and massaged her underused vocals. She should not have shouted like that, she knew. If the raiders were still around, they would know where she was now. She had to move. Swallowing her nonexistent saliva, she steeled herself to stand again.
The soft step behind her caused the hairs on the back of her bruised neck to stand on end. Her eyes widened and her palms grew moist. If she had not just relieved herself moments before, she would have done so now, in her breeches. She could sense the evil radiating from the being standing behind her, the malicious intent pouring off of him in waves. She could not pretend to be a deaf-mute kitchen boy, she knew, because her cap was gone. Her limp strands of dark purple hair were still noticeable in the lighting, no one else had hair this color. She was reminded of that fact daily. She would never forget it.
Holding herself rigid, she knew that if she was going to die, she would rather face her killer directly, than give him the satisfaction of lopping off her head while she was presumably unaware. Slowly, she turned her torso towards the offending creature with the intent of killing her. Her puffy face must have startled the raider, for his body jerked right as he took aim and fired his arrow. The arrow hit the well a mere breath away from her bloody ear. She took pleasure in the fact that her face was terrifyingly hideous. For the first time since she fell, or ever actually, she wanted to kiss the person who belonged to that severed arm!
Having recovered from his initial shock, the man nocked his bow and took aim, right at her head. She told herself to breath and to stare him down, hoping that by doing so, he might at least feel unnerved or guilty that his prey is staring him down. She held her breath as she watched, again in slow motion, as his fingers slid off of the bow's string.
Then as quietly as he had arrived, he was laying on the ground at her feet, a battle-axe embedded in the top of his big meaty head. She jumped slightly as his blood slapped patterns on her face and tunic. It took her a moment to realize that the man was dead, his weapon tossed aside, a new man towered over him, and she was alive. In a daze, she shook her head slightly, as if trying to get her head back in regular motion, then jumped again when she realized that the new man was calling her name in horror and awe. She had not heard her name spoken in almost five years. So long in fact, that she did not even think of that name as her own. Her eyes widened as he continued to call her name, and she pressed her back up against the holy well as he kneeled in front of her.
"You're alive, Lady Raven! Your Majesty!"