A/N: Chapter three is done! Yayness. It took some time to get this written, because I've been working on it in snippets throughout the week instead of churning it all out today. LOL. It's officially dead week in my world right now. Anyway, I have a new poll up on my profile right now-vote for which Titan you'd like to see appear in this fic first. Alright, now here's a cookie. Hold on to it until you reach the end, okay? I hope you all enjoy the read. Thank you for the wonderful comments and faves. I appreciate it.
Disclaimer: Cookies!
Raven: *sigh* Azarath-
Me: That is entirely unfair, you never take me up on-
Raven: -Metrion-
Me: I don't own any Teen Titans characters and such, save for this plot which is entirely mine. ^_^
Her reaction was more reflex than thought, Raven later reasoned, because she did not even hesitate to throw up a protective spell barrier—and then completely destroy the creature with an accurate blast of black and white-tinged energy fire. The book in her hand was simultaneously repaired with the backlash of powerful magical energy and she was pleased to note that the feeling was rather refreshing. She had been worried about the rare spells scribed on the thin pages, but having read it already, her mind was more than willing to fill in the gaps to complete the necessary incantations for defense and offense.
The creature shrieked and screamed as the flames covered every inch of its wretched body. The purple-haired librarian merely readjusted her glasses, holding the energy taut between them until she knew the charred remains were exactly that—charred remains. It was only when she had torn her eyes away from the disgusting black mess that she realized the knight was watching her with grim eyes from a few feet away.
He was heaving soft breaths and clutching his side—the same side that the spear had almost hit just minutes earlier. The grimace was returning to his features and he had gone rather pale in the space of the few seconds between them.
She stared at him, eyebrows raised, expectant, but he did not answer her unspoken question.
Instead, his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed dramatically on the debris-strewn floor in a heap of blood of and clinking armor.
Armor.
Blood.
Raven furiously backtracked. She had missed that—or had she?
Skirting the smoldering mess, she started forward and stopped, throwing another handful of energy over her shoulder to clean it up. It was always best to deal with things like that immediately, that way they would not present a bigger problem in the future—or a headache at a later, unnecessary time. Her thoughts redirected and she clambered over the rubble to get a look at the fallen knight.
With some effort, she managed to turn him over and arrange his limbs in a more natural position on the floor so she could inspect the damage. There was a soft hiss that left her lips as she realized the wound was not from the current fight but possibly from an earlier encounter. From the angle and seeming force of the blow, she knew a vital strike when she saw one. He had been in the midst of a fight where the error had been costly. It was the kind of error that could cost a knight their life, if they were not careful. He had survived.
He had also been fighting with such a serious injury—and had risked his life again, when he thought she was in danger. Risked his life for the sake of a stranger.
Raven chewed on her lower lip for a moment, thinking more than she'd had to in the past week. With some effort, she closed her eyes and whispered the usual words. "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos." The chant was distinctly soothing to her and directly helpful to him. It was a very tentative healing trance, because she could not tell if his body would react to her unusual brand of magic and because she knew there would be no help in repairing the hole in the wall until he was awake.
That meant she would need her energy for a temporary fix—and one that was strong enough to hold up in the event that the horrid creatures decided to return for a second round. Dusting off her hands, she waggled her fingers towards the hole, with a small noise of satisfaction when the rubble picked itself up off the floor and snapped back to their original places on the wall. The books began to replace themselves on the newly repaired shelves and within a handful of minutes, there was absolutely nothing to show that there had once been a hole in the wall.
She liked that.
The guest room was rather small. It was not meant to be a room at all, so Raven mentally counted the knight as lucky as she rearranged the tiny private reading room to hold a small bed and a nightstand. There was not any real reason for her to do so, except for the faint tug of energy that had finally settled into a corner of her head, whispering encouragements towards helping the young knight. Something connected him to somewhere in a way that made her very spirit want to leap to his aid. A kind of thing that sent ribbons of annoyance and confusion spiraling through her in a way that meant she would have to spend a significant amount of time in morning meditations to retain her usual calm state of mind. Her deeper powers were waking from their slumber, affected enough to project their influence upon her consciousness. Raven pushed that aside, continuing with her preparations, she needed to focus here and now—on the knight.
It didn't take any magic to remove chain mail, but Raven used a bit anyway. Undressing a wounded knight was not one of her everyday occurrences and she did not want to aggravate the wound any more than necessary. From her own reasoning, he was mixed up in enough trouble and unfamiliar magic, that she figured using some of her own would be a simple precaution, just in case.
Her suspicions were proven true when she peeled away blood-soaked fabric from the gash in his side. It was the same kind of curse that had been on the jagged black spear. No wonder he hadn't wanted her to touch it. Experience had taught him otherwise, she mused. The very sight of it had sent her mind puzzling through things and she settled on the fact that it had been a rather cruel twist to whatever battle he had been in. Bustling about the room, she filled a bowl with warm water and a touch of antiseptic, finding a soft cloth and cotton bandages from a wicker basket, she returned to the bedside to begin her ministrations.
It was good that he was asleep.
By the time Raven had washed and bandaged the wound, she was aware of the nighttime chimes of the library clock ringing out in the hollow silence that she often found comforting. Packing up the medical supplies, she replaced them in the basket and tucked it under the bed for easier retrieval later, if needed. Leaving the guest room, she flew upwards into the heart of the tower's ceiling to her bedroom and the special stack of books she kept there.
It did not take very long to find the one that she wanted and within seconds, she was floating downwards to the ground floor, already absorbed within its pages. She found the picture she was looking for and the accompanying passage when she walked into the guest room. Her knight-patient was still sleeping, though marginally more comfortably than before. She stood over him, reading for a while until she found the spell she was looking for.
Sucking in a deep breath, she cleared her throat and began the chant, her left hand placed over the cotton gauze pad, her right hand holding the book level so she could read. In a voice low and soft, almost reminiscent of the library clock chimes themselves, the purple-haired librarian began to chant the magical words to recant the full spell plaguing the strange knight.
"Amarenth Malethon Zaros. From whence thou has come, I recant thee. Amarenth Malethon Zaros, from the pit of the earth to the arch of the sky, I care not where, remove thyself at my behest, Amarenth Malethon Zaros. The pain you have caused, the destruction unwanted brought, I recant thee, remove thee and seal thee with my signature." A powerful flare of black and white-tinged energy surged out of her left hand in a rich, swirling spiral. "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!"
She shut the book with an audible snap, bending over to examine her handiwork. Her violet irises flared with light and the pupils changed from round orbs, to cat-like ovals, as her secondary vision examined the wound from a magical perspective. The orbs flickered back to their usual round state as she drew to her full height, apparently satisfied with what she had seen. She was almost to the door when she realized a few things, pausing, she hurriedly scribbled a few words in basic on the length of scrap paper tucked between two books. She found a bit of glue in the old writing case on the floor and used that to stick her notes where they would be helpful.
Satisfied, she licked one finger and pinched the tip of the candle on the nightstand. He would sleep for quite some time, she knew that from experience—and while he was sleeping, she would take the time to rest as well. Whatever would happen, would happen. She would deal with it by morning.
As she settled into bed, running her fingers through the shoulder-length crop of hair, she twisted the ends into a braid, tying it with a silken black ribbon. A yawn escaped and she burrowed down under the covers. Tomorrow promised to be full of excitement if today had been any indication. A good night's sleep would go a long way in making sure that she was able to handle everything that came her way.
Raven was so tired that she didn't even notice the faint cerulean glow of a slender book beneath the sheaf of papers on her cluttered desk. She didn't even feel the soft tug of energy as she faded into the usual dreams of the night.
Now, everyone who thought Robin was going to save Raven, please turn around and give her your cookie. She's trading them for a special blend of tea and wants you to know that you're forgetting that she is entirely capable of taking care of herself. Oh, and she also says if you ate it—that you owe her one. Sorry.
:P Thanks for reading!
