A/N: I don't own Teen Titans.
9. When Angela (Arella) Met Trigon
She hisses in pain as the necessary mark is cut into the back of her neck.
"We'll meet our lord Scath soon, sister Angela." Says a fellow member of the church.
The sting of the cut is further agitated as the same member attends the fresh cut with hemostatic medicine.
"OK, I'm going to cauterize the marking, sister." The member of the church grabs a finer-than-normal red-hot poker from a nearby fireplace. "Ready?"
"Yes, for the glory of Scath." Responds Angela.
"For the glory of Scath."
The verbal salute of The Church of Blood being her only warning, the member of the church brings the poker to the wound on her neck.
She hisses once more, barley betraying how painful the cauterization is.
This pain is nothing.
Nothing compared to what I've had to endure.
To say Angela Roth had hard life would be a massive understatement.
Born of an absent of father and a mother who passed away during delivery, she was born into being a ward of the state in Gotham City.
Ever since she can remember, she's been passed around from one orphanage to the next (and a few adoptive parents).
Angela, for one reason or another, was the constant the target of physical and verbal abuse of the other orphans, the adults who were in charge at the orphanages and a few of the households she was adopted by.
As a result, she became completely numb to most things around her by the time she was a teenager.
She was withdrawn, and hesitant even trying to connect with other people.
At times it seemed as if she was merely a passenger in her own life.
Once, she in a rare showing of self-expression had gotten a 3rd eye chakra stone piercing on her forehead. Unfortunately for her, the family who's care she was placed in at the time was a staunchly conservative one. The small body modification was met with swift, loud and violent reprisal from the family's patriarch. Which left a scar on her forehead that hasn't completely healed to this day.
This had been the last straw for the young Angela Roth.
She had run away, abandoning the system and familial structures that had failed her time and again.
But life on the streets of Gotham hadn't been any kinder.
She'd managed to avoid the fate that befell most young girls lost to the streets, but she'd still managed to fall into drugs in order to cope with her despondent life. To fuel her habit she'd boosted, pick-pocketed and worked regrettably as a waitress at both The Stacked Deck and later a bartender at The Iceberg Lounge.
She'd once even ran afoul of the city's resident billionaire, Bruce Wayne. She'd attempted to pick his pocket one time while working at The Iceberg Lounge. He'd recognized her from the lounge, almost immediately knowing what happened and confronted her. He'd thankfully allowed the dejected teenager to keep the spoils of her plunder and didn't even turn her into the police or her boss on the condition he take his card.
"Should you need anything at all don't hesitate to the number on card," he said, as he handed to specialized black card with gold lettering to the young lady.*
Either out of pride, stupidity or what-not, she never bothered to called him.
She was eventually arrested on possession and tried to serve her time.
She wasn't sure if it was out of happenstance or purposeful.
But she had crossed paths with Bruce Wayne once more.
It was by his petitioning the court that prevented her from doing significant prison time and getting the necessary help to kick her drug habit.
There she met a charismatic man on the staff named Abel.
Despite being only a C.O, Abel had the respect and admiration of staff and inmate alike.
His friendly brown eyes and inviting smile were a constant source of comfort during this time for her.
To her, he was like the big brother or father figure she'd been waiting for her entire life.
He'd coaxed her out of her shell.
She even credited him for helping her eventually rid herself of her addiction.
During the closing weeks and days of her sentence, Abel had propositioned her to join him.
"Angela, will you join others like herself; those brothers and sisters cast aside because they fail to meet the plastic expectations of this society. Will you join me in The Church of Blood?" He asked emphatically.
She didn't hesitate.
"Sister?" Asked the member of the church. "The mark is set, as is everything else. Are you prepared to meet our lord?"
"Yes." She replied simply, throwing her hair behind her.
The short walk to the alter did little to expel the nervous energy within Angela. Her eyes met Abel's, which is enough to quell most of the nerves within her. She joins him at the candle-beleaguered alter just in front of him.
He's wearing regal red robes befitting of the archbishop of a church. The robe has a white cross going across the torso, the 't' of which is situated at the chest. He also has a silver necklace, with a black and red medallion at the end. The red of the medallion belonging to stylized red 'S' at its center. The remaining members of the church are dressed similarly colored robes with the with cross and no necklaces. She herself is dressed in a royal blue cloak, with a long sleeveless black dress with no designs or markings. Her assorted brothers and sisters quietly chanting.
"The mark, Sister Angela. Show me." Requests Abel.
She obliges, turning her back to him and parting her hair behind her neck.
"Perfect," he says simply. He places his hands on the shoulders of Angela. "Sister, at my side."
He puts his hands together chanting in rhythm with the fellow members of the church.
"Veniet dominus noster fructum. Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus. Veniet dominus noster fructum. Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus."** They chant.
Abel's voice then booms above the rest of his brothers and sisters.
"Veniet dominus noster fructum! Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus!"
At once a strong wind propels threw the church to the alter, blowing out all the candles. As fast as they went out, they reignited ten times as hot and bright as they were before. The flames have taken on a bright red hue. The fires of the candles leave the wicks, swirling at middle of the alter right in front of Abel and Angela.
As if one had a mind of its own, an ember from the cyclone of fire hurls itself at Angela. She collapses, as she's embedded in a hue matching the flaming cyclone. Her 'brothers' and 'sisters' continue to chant, completely oblivious to her plight. The ember burns her intensely, but miraculously leaves her clothes, hair and skin unmarked. Eventually the glow of the flames begins to recede to the stylized 'S' carved in the back of her neck, the pain fading with it.
Her brothers and sisters have stopped chanting.
As Angela tries to find her footing, the flaming cyclone begins to come to a stop. They then begin to shape and couture into the shape of being. The fires are then expelled as it appears the being behind the expels the flames from its body, revealing the large figure of what's supposed to be their lord. He's dressed head-to-toe in black, his angry red arms revealed by short sleeves of his top. They immediately go to his chest as he folds them. But what Angela takes notice of first is his eyes. His cold black sclera, and dimly glowing iris' take in his surroundings and seem to give off an air of disappointment. His brows are creased seemingly in the same disappointment in his eyes, the crease continuing to his flat wide nose. She also notices his face, which is framed by shoulder length white hair, is as red as folded arms. His black lips are turned in a snarl, revealing what appears to be sharp looking fangs.
His eyes meet hers, and a look of shock and recognition hit his face. It returns to a neutral expression as he proclaims loudly: "Do you people honestly have nothing better to do!"
Murmurs among the members of the church begin to overtake the room.
"Lord Scath!" Screams Abel, "it is with great reverence I welcome you to the current congregation of the Church of Blood." He gestures to Angela, "We offer this young lady here as tribute for you, Lord Scath."
"Tribute…?" Exclaims Angela. She's immediately seized by both wrists by members of the church. "Release me! Now!" She yelled futilely struggling against her now captors.
"Where's the current Brother Blood?" Asks he who was identified as Scath.
"Sebastian's abandoned us. He's taken to training and recruiting young metahumans for his purposes some time ago. For all intents and purposes, I'm the defacto leader of the church."
Scath once more turns his vison to Angela. "This young lady, who is she?"
"She's an unremarkable," says Abel. The sting of his words piercing Angela, as his looks at her with new found contempt. "Some drug addled urchin we cleaned up for you, my lord. She's yours to sire…"
"Release her." Interrupts Scath. "Release her, now." He commands, as Angela continues to struggle against her captors.
Angela's former 'brothers' seem stupefied at being addressed by their lord, looking between Scath and Abel for some kind of confirmation from the two.
"Fine," mutters Scath. Angela's two captors are then enveloped in a black aura and lifted into the air by some unseen force. The aura begins to brighten as the men start to scream in pain, the screams intensifying the brighter the aura glows. The auras reach a sun-like brightness, all present covering their eyes from the light.
Theirs screams have stopped. And when her eyes are uncovered all traces of the two members of the church are gone.
And she can't help but realize the vague smell of burnt meat on her nostrils.
"You," he addresses Angela, "behind me, now!"
Not wishing to share the fate of her 'brothers', she complies right away. "Please don't kill me," she whispers in a small voice.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you."
"Lord Scath! There's no need to spare this woman the dignity. Do with her what you will, so the prophecy may commence." Says Abel.
Scath sighs audibly. "I'm guessing you were the current Brother Blood's understudy?" Replied Scath.
"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" Said able, irritably.
"The Bloods haven't changed much through the generations."
"Don't talk of that fool to me. I am the archbishop of the church! I will lead our brothers and sisters in these most trying times!"
Scath eyeballs Abel; seemingly unimpressed by what he sees, he replies: "You are more like your masters than realize. Taking in the naive and innocent, using them for your own purposes. And discarding them the moment it becomes convenient. You are more like your masters than you realize."
Abel doesn't reply to being dressed down by the demon lord.
"The young lady and I will be taking our leave now." Scath's iris's glow briefly. "Unless anyone has any objections?" He says eyeballing everyone else at alter.
It seems any objections are wisely held back.
"Great," says Scath, "young lady, let's get out here."
Angela makes her way to Scath's side, readying to leave. The assorted members of the church part as the couple makes their way through.
"Do you have anything you'd like to take with you? I highly doubt we'll be making a return here." Scath addressed Angela.
"Um...yes my lord. I'll lead you to my quarters."
"You know don't have to address me so formally, um. I'm sorry, young lady. What is your name?"
"Angela, lord Scath. Angela Roth."
"Trigon."
"I'm sorry?"
"My name, it's Trigon. Scath is more like a family name, or to be more precise, the name of my clan. And please, you don't have to call me 'lord.' I haven't been a lord in very long time."
A tense silence sits between the pair, as Angela packs her belongings.
"So," begins Trigon, "this going to be a little awkward, but do you know what that ritual was for Angela?"
"I was told it was to summon you," she begins as she continues to pack, " your summoning was to strengthen the faith of the members of the church and to quell any nonbelief that may have existed." She laughs sullenly to herself as she shakes her head. She places her gaze to Trigon. "I guess the latter was achieved. I was to be you emissary, which was why I branded with your mark." She turns around, parting her hair relevealing the mark of Scath on the back of her neck. "Though you're not exactly what I was told you'd look like."
"Oh, I'll have you know I'm quite the looker, at least mother says so." Replies Trigon, indignantly.
"I didn't say you weren't handsome, lord…I mean Trigon." She said in small voice blushing, looking away from him. "Wait… the ritual. Why did you ask me about it?"
Trigon begins to laugh awkwardly as he scratches his cheek. "Well it's pretty convenient you find me handsome, 'cause that ritual kind of, sort of made us," he mumbles the remaining statement, trialing off.
"I'm sorry, could you say that again?"
He mumbles one more time.
"Could you please speak up!?"
"We're married now. There, satisfied?"
"So now what? You drag me to hell live out the rest of my life in wedded bliss?" Snaps a despondent Angela.
"No that'd be a bad idea. I'd have to hear from Neron and Augustus about…" Trigon trails off once more. "Actually, that's not important. What's important is that you now fall under my protection. I won't hold this union over your head, but you must know; you are forever bound to me. That mark on your neck ensures that."
Angela's eyes begin to water as what Trigon said begins to take hold and what this means begins to make itself clear.
Wife to some kind of demon lord of indiscriminate origin. I guess it's a step-up from emissary. She laments bitterly. What will become of me? Will he incinerate me like my brothers who tried to hold me down at the alter? Is he benevolent? He's shown me kindness thus far.
Angela begins to openly weep, crossing her arms over her chest; the gesture bringing her very little comfort.
Trigon closes the distance between them. He cups her cheek, tilting her face up wiping the tears from her cheek. His caress is gentler than would expect from someone his size. She nuzzles into his touch, it oddly bringing her comfort.
"Did they do this to you?" He asks running his other hand over the scar on her forehead.
"It doesn't matter."
"I can heal…"
"Just get me out of here, Trigon!" She interrupts. "I'm just ready for this day to be over."
"Okay." He says calmly. "Okay. Just finish packing and I'll take you…some place."
He backs away from her, walking to a wall leaning on it as Angela finishes getting her things in order.
His eyes go to a black card on the floor; its edges rounded and crinkled. It's clearly seen better days. He leaves his perch on the wall going straight for the card. He takes it off the ground, reading the stylized gold letters; his eyes shimmering in recognition.
"Alright, got I've everything important here. Oh, that old thing."
"Do you know, Bruce?"
"Not really. He did a few favors for me, for what I'll never know. I didn't deserve his consideration. You heard Abel, I'm an unremarkable. I my have even be less than that. He gave me that card, telling me if I ever needed anything to call him. There's more than a few times I've held that card in my hand, wondering if I made the right decision not calling him." She sighs. "Do you know him? I can't imagine so. I mean what would a demon lord need with an acquaintance like him anyway?"
"You'd honestly be surprised, my dear."
His armored footsteps thump loudly as he makes his approach.
"It's as you said Lord Augustus." Abel addressed. "He refused to sire the gem on the spot. You're sure he'll mate the woman eventually?"
"I'm sure," he cracks a smirk, "I sent you in her direction for a reason. There's something about her he won't be able to resist. My dear brother is hopelessly predictable, but that's not a concern right now. I'm more than prepared for the long game. What concerns me now is your devotion to the cause and your congregation's loyalty; it still lies with Trigon even though he's long since abandoned the church. I'm not up to entertaining reconditioning. Luckily I'm able to quell these concerns in one swing." Augustus stretches one arm in front of, his open palm facing the ceiling. A black orb manifests itself, eventually forming the shape of sword. He then grasps the weapon by the hilt, offering it to Abel. "Show me your devotion Abel. Your lord demands blood. The blood of those fool enough to place their faith in Trigon."
Abel takes the blade offered to him, "For the glory of Augustus."
*I might make a one shot outlining this interaction. I guess it depends on the reaction to this.
**Translated from latin: Come forth our lord. Accept of our offering, so the gem maybe sired.
