This will be a set of drabbles exploring Raven's childhood in the temples of Azarath. I am only knowledgeable in the animated series universe and so this is my own interpretation of how I imagine Raven's childhood would've transpired. I will be forever not okay with the fact this wasn't explored more in the series and so have taken it upon myself to do so. Enjoy! :)


FIVE YEARS OLD


"Again."

The ground scorched beneath her knuckles as she curled them in, nails raw upon the turf. A pulsing sun beat across her back as she inhaled its taunting heat, and with heavy breath she dug her feet into the grit and winced at the weight against her bruising knees.

"I don't think I can…" Her voice came like a croak amid the courtyard.

"You will." The figure loomed above her with sallow gaze, arms firm across his chest as he bore down at the child. "Again."

Her chest throbbed in objection and teeth sank into her lower lip, drawing a sharp sob from her throat. The sound fell deaf upon her oppressor's ears.

In her moment's reprieve, the girl's thoughts wandered to the children beyond the walls, with their bright faces and wistful smiles. Oftentimes, they would dance across her mind like a spectre of ghosts; elusive, transient, and so sorely naïve in their mirth.

Behind her eyes, she could see them, giggling at a bird overhead and holding their mothers' hand through the streets.

A sigh fled her lips in slow abandon as she heaved her weary form from the floor.

Finally, she found herself standing once more, though her muscles wailed for rest. She felt stone eyes fixed upon her in callous repute. Steadying her stance, she shook the images from her head, regarding the fresh burn in her calves. The newfound scrapes, red in her palms.

A heaviness churned inside. The noontide glare was white around her, casting the grounds into fluorescence. Glancing up, she could see how her dwelling gleamed in the light and swelled with an almost lucid charm, as if she were caught within a dream. But then the glassy walls dulled, and a pressing weight grasped her shoulder, throwing her from her musings into the present.

Radiant as her home might look to the foreign eye, this was no paradise.

It was a prison.

Raven internally tensed at the contact. For the two years she'd withstood it, the girl had grown no more used to – nor fond of – her mentor's heavy hand. The inevitable affront followed, like venom in her ears.

"You understand the urgency of this training, I hope."

That same hold impelled her upright, spine straight and feet planted to the ground. Her expression hardened.

Of course she understood. She also knew that an answer was not expected, but out of some visceral spite, she spat out a firm: "Yes".

Her breath shallowed to a steady rhythm as she forced composure. It wouldn't help to dwell on exhaustion – and she knew more than most that failure to cooperate was a thing of low tolerance in these walls.

Violet eyes latched onto the target ahead – a simple slab of wood sat upon a pedestal. They grew sharp in concentration as a lithe hand rose before her. Fingers splayed.

The air seemed to still, before the routine chant broke through her lips.

"Azarath… Metrion…" The rush of energy set her veins alight, surging down her outstretched arm like a missile as she bore her heels into the floor.

Unblinking, she clenched her hand into a fist, brought it to her chest before jolting it back out at the mark ahead.

"Zinthos!"

A black bolt shot from her palm, then instantly bloated to thrice her size. A wild, hurling blaze launched through the air towards two pillars opposite, before breaching the surface with a thunderous roar.

Raven's eyes grew wide as she gaped at the scene. The pillars, once a hallowed entrance to the courtyard, now fell helplessly to rubble and ash.

The collision shook the terrain beneath the pair's feet, mighty and fierce as a thick cloud of murk smeared the premises. The last remains of marble tumbled down as the explosion perished in their ears, until only a withering echo and smog prevailed.

Raven did not pry her stare from the wreckage, knowing what she would meet once she did. The thought panicked her. Once again she found herself short of breath, with a heart that pelted against her ribs.

She had told him she couldn't do it.

A grave moment hung in the air before she swallowed and turned to face her mentor.

"I'm sorry. I didn't–"

"That's enough for today."

His voice came to her like a welt to the chest.

"I expect you in the Hathoren Court at seven tomorrow."

He hadn't looked at her. Hadn't taken his eyes from the demolition before him. His arms met behind his back and his features were vacant.

She knew these signs too well; knew they demanded she leave without a word. Even for her age, Raven was smart. And despite the weight sinking through her stomach, she knew that, now, it was the best thing to do.

The night was swift in its approach, and even hours after the ordeal had passed, the child remained confined to the shawls of her bed.

Her face was cold as it pressed against the mattress. She curled into herself and clutched at the bridge of her cloak, just for something to hold. The metallic taste of blood lined her tongue as she gnawed desperately at her inner cheek, eyes glazed with the anguish they held.

But she could not cry.

For in this body, to feel was to destroy. And so with resilient mind and heavy heart, she told herself through the silence of the night, again and again.

She could not cry.