A/N: Still don't own Teen Titans. This one-shot contains a concept I plan to expand on in a different story. Don't want to drop too many hints in an A/N, so I hope you all will stick with me.


4. False Hope

Azarath had been invaded.

Augustus, the brother of Trigon, in his bid to take the title of "The Terrible", had amassed a considerable force of allies to his side.

However, Augustus had underestimated his opposition and spread his efforts incredibly thin and had fought a war on three fronts (on earth versus the Titans, versus the army of Azarath, and versus Trigon himself).

The last Azar had foreseen the coming threat from Trigon's kin and had militarized Azarath. No question the decision was met with great controversy, breaking the many thousands of years of the precedent of being a pacifist realm. Many in Azarath (including other members of leadership) had blamed the threat on Azar's, and more specifically, Raven's and Arella's connection to Trigon. But contrary to what one may think of the people of Azarath, many men and women had volunteered. In doing so many were disowned by their respective families, friends and shunned in public as pariahs due to their choice to defend their world.

Trigon had come across the sight of the main conflict. He walks the area; littered everywhere is the bodies of demons, Azarathians and scorch marks where the forms a of certain type of flame familiar (which Trigon is very familiar with) would be if they weren't vanquished. Eventually he comes a across the fortified walls and gate of the main entrance of the metropolis of Azarath. In front of the gate is a contingent of a few dozen Azarathians, guarding the gate no doubt because of the recent conflict. A figure in white comes to the head of the crowd.

Arella…

Her usual white cloak and leotard is strewn in cuts and caked in dirt and blood. That of foe and friend alike one would wager. A look of sullen determination is on her face; her usual expressive blue eyes dull to all they survey, full lips in a thin line, her black eye brows creased in concentration. Upon noticing the approaching Trigon, the hard look on her face immediately melts replaced with relief. She drops the spear and shield she was holding and sprints to the encroaching demon. Her hood falls as she runs toward Trigon, shoulder length black hair now subject to the wind.

Reaching him she throws her arms around his body squeezing his him as hard as she can. He responds by wrapping his arms around her.

"Is Augustus… Is he defeated?" she asks breaking the embrace.

"I took care of him." Trigon says sullenly. "My brother is…" he hesitates, "was trounced."

Taking in his appearance she notices Trigon isn't without wear himself. His body is bare for all to care to see. His slender yet muscular body littered with cuts and bruises from a very recent battle. His red hands having a small amount of dirt on them.

"How are things on this front?" Says Trigon.

"We managed to push them back. They didn't reach breach the walls. The contingent we faced was mostly those fire familiars. They were incredibly hard to fight back. I'd imagine their sudden disappearance was the result of their master meeting his end."

She looks to Trigon for confirmation of the theory. He nods in the affirmative.

"We lost more than a few good people today. I will honor their memories with the other soldiers, I don't know if the populace would celebrate what was sacrificed today. The surviving soldiers are surveying the city for any holdovers of Augustus' forces, we're guarding the gate to make sure none approach from the front." Arella's eyes begin to tear up as she looks away from Trigon. "I hope I never have to deal with anything this horrible again. Those demons I've killed… I know I had to defend Azarath, but…" she pauses. "I felt the life leave them as they died, Trigon. Not just them, but that of our allies as they died too. I'm not sure I could ever do that again."

Trigon pulls her close once more, laying a kiss to her chakra stone. "You're safe, my love. Azarath is safe. And unless I miss my guess our daughter is safe."

Tears still falling she shoots Trigon a smile, not bothering to correct him calling her his 'love.'

A commotion among the soldiers catches their attention.

It appears a figure in regal, grey robes is barking orders and complaints to the soldiers.

His already older appearance magnified by the grimace on his face. His teeth going up and down as if gnawing, dripping on his grey bread spittle is being spewed carelessly as continues incessant bellowing.

"Councilman Younger!" Yells Arella, "what's the meaning of this?"

"Angela," he spits contemptuously, "as if I owe you an explanation."

She scoffs, "It's Arella, councilman, and as long as I sit at Azar's chair, you will answer to me. Now explain!" She says leaving no room for argument.

"'Arella'", he condescends using air quotes, "as if you've ever lived up to the name. Quite the opposite it seems. Carrying on with HIS kind. I still maintain this is your doing. Laying with demons."

"Younger I suggest you tread lightly." Warns Trigon.

"Is that a threat, demon?" The elder councilman spits.

Trigon snarls bearing his teeth. "You think I know not your role in this entire ordeal."

Councilman Younger scoffs indignantly, "Now you levy claims against me, and speak to me as if you have dominion over me." Younger spits at Trigon in disgust. "To what proof do you have?"

"Your aura's seeping of that of a demonic influence. My brother's influence." Trigon invades Councilman Younger's personal space, putting himself directly in the elder's face, "And my dominions are well known to me councilman, thank you."

The elder councilman turns white as sheet.

His anxiety assaults Arella's senses immediately. She signals a few of the soldiers over to where they're standing. Councilman Younger and herself had had their differences in the past, but to betray his own realm?

"Councilman, please tell me, did you betray us to Augustus?"

"I would never betray Azarath he declares. Clearly this demon," he says spitting once again, "is…"

"And what is it I'm going councilman? Bewitching denizens of Azarath for an effort for power. No, I abandoned any desire I had for power long ago." Responds Trigon.

"Is this true councilman?" Asks a soldier. Several other among the dozen or so soldiers are mummering among themselves.

His anxiety mounting at the accusation, Younger flairs what little of Augustus' power he has creating a shockwave knocking everyone present off their feet. He chants a small incantation, suppressing the magic of all present. He produces a dagger and he lunges for Arella, taking her hostage.

Everyone present returns to their as soon they can, the soldiers setting their weapons at the ready.

"Everyone stand back, or she dies!" Yells Younger, pressing the blade to Arella's throat.

"Lower your weapons, please," says Trigon.

"Whatever damage this traitor does, can your healing ability not heal it?" Asks a soldier.

"No, look closely at his blade, it's runes are specifically made to counter act demons. There's nothing I'd be able to do for any wound inflicted by that blade." Says Trigon.

"Councilman Younger, why have you betrayed us," asks Arella sadly. Tears pooling once again, she continues, "If I die today, I at least deserve to know."

"Your position, dear Angela. For you to become the lead of our people, not being native and consorting with and siring demons was the ultimate insult. I've spent more than half of my life working my up through the political system. With nothing to show. And then Augustus showed up, he promised me the reigns over Azarath, once it was conquered. All I had to do was let him in our relam."

"You're the one who weakened the barriers of our world, allowing our enemies in. Your people died today because of your treachery Younger!" Cried one soldier.

"Of course, I was the one of the elder mages who built the damn barriers to protect our world from their kind. It was I who let in Augustus to infect the unborn Raven with Trigon's influence, ensuring the sires prophesy would come to bear. It was I who let Augustus in when he killed Lady Azar. And was I who let in the army that attacked our world today. Those men and women were necessary sacrifices, and the lot of the others would've been had things gone to plan. Lady Azar had clearly lost her way, breaking thousands of years of traditions, allowing complete outsiders, demons even in to our world. And to cast her favor, not on me who gave many, many years of good service to the good Azarath, but to some demon, his abomination of child and his whore companion." He sneers in look of revulsion. "We needed new leadership. Who better than I. She got what was coming to her. Her affection for you demon," Younger gestures at Trigon, "I'll never understand for as long as I live."

Trigon begins to laugh.

"And what is so funny, demon."

"You, pathetic little Azarathian. And what, you think you would lead these people into prosperity. In your bid for power, in your bid to protect the world you love, you've become that which you hate. Have you not realized what my brother's influence have done to you? Do you not think you being manipulated? Had you ever considered that my origins lie in Azarath?" Having enough of the being holding his love hostage, he flairs a fragment of his soul-self. Entrapping his hand before Younger can ever realize what's happening.

"But the incantation!?" Screams Younger.

"Quells and numbs magic. My soul-self isn't magic, you old fool. And you've left yourself completely defenseless." Trigon approaches Younger, pulling Arella from his hold. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, I just need this day to end." Says Arella tiredly.

"What's to be done with Younger?"

Signing, clearly knowing what she responds, "Do what must be done…"

"Xavier," Trigon calls to one of the soldiers, "please escort Arella home if you would."

"No problem, sir."

"Will you come to see me?" Asks Arella before she makes her way to gate.

"I will, later. I'd like to visit Raven after this."

"So be it," she says, taking her leave.

"Now for you, councilman. That spell of yours should wearing off soon."

"Now as a matter of fact. Prepare…" Before Younger can finish his thought, the remaining soldiers chat a modified incantation of the one he used earlier. The modification: Younger is sole target of magical nullification.

Knowing what he's facing, Younger begins to cry, snorting and begging for his life. Falling on deaf years, the soldier begins to leave. Leaving Younger to his fate, alone with Trigon the Terrible.

Trigon's second set of eyes open as they begin to glow a sinister red. The hand of the councilman covered in Trigon's soul-self begins to glow and heat in a roaring blaze enveloping his whole body as Trigon begins to chant an incantation of his own:

Succendam ignem extinguere urat animam meam carnem et ossa sit satis. At ego ne consistere tuo in novissimis cinis est folliculi pertineret huius ambusti corporalis. Hoc quamdiu anima ardeat sambucae, terribilis atque incensa odio Scath Azarath personam existit.*

The fires then intensify, Younger's begging and crying becoming inhuman wails. Trigon opens a portal to an uninhabited dimension sparing the realm of Azarath form the further taint of Elder Councilman Younger.


A/N: Boy was this a chore, I ended up re-writing this this thing about 6 times before I was satisfied with a final version. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

*Translated from latin: Enflamed soul of my existence ignite the fire that will extinguish his flesh and bones soon enough. But do not halt thy self when the last ash of this physical husk is scorched. For this fire will burn his soul for as long as Trigon, the Terrible, Scath himself and the burning hatred of Azarath personified, exists.