Far away, Raven was just waking up, cold and shivering on a soft, red plush couch in what looked to be an old, British study.
It had a roaring fire-place, a large Oakwood desk with two, large red chairs: one behind the desk and one in front. The red couch was perched right next to the fire, but she was still cold. There were no windows, but the walls were covered in plenty of paintings of nature, hunting hounds, and an ancient black and purple castle.
Her comforter had disappeared so she pulled the sleeves of her crew neck down as far over her hands as she could, got up, and shuffled around in her sweatpants.
Earlier, she had blamed her lack of proper dress on being sick, but now she felt totally unprepared for wherever she was, or whatever was about to happen.
No cloak.
No hood.
No clue.
Where am I?
She approached the painting of the castle tentatively and reached out a finger to trace the frame. It was ancient, gilded, and done in cherry wood. It had a deep brown-red that reflected nicely in the firelight, but the dark pallet of the castle made the whole thing like an eerie portal to some sort of dark tomb. Raven didn't know where she was, but the hairs standing up on the back of her neck suggested that it wasn't a nice place.
While tracing the painting she began to feel a sneeze coming on. She bent her head and scrunched up her nose, praying that it wouldn't give her another headache like the last one. She felt it gearing up, building inside her as if someone had cocked a shotgun and was about to pull the trigger.
"Ah-ah-ahhh," she breathed.
"No, no, no!"
Strong hands spun her around and she screamed, "choo!" effectively sneezing all over the person's chest.
"Good," they sighed. "Didn't need you snuffing up that painting. It truly is a work of art. Don't you think, Raven?"
She froze in the arms of this strange man, her nose dripping in snot; her eyes were wide. His hands, his voice. It was all too familiar. She slowly gazed up at him and whispered, "Malchior."
"Sweet Raven," he pushed back her snotty hair and dabbed at her face with his handkerchief. "I apologize. To think that you would be sick during our reunion? Had I known I never would have struck at this moment."
Raven frowned in confusion and he pushed her backward. She fell back over the arm of the couch and landed in a heap on its plush cushions. It didn't hurt, but it startled her into a coughing fit, to which she felt tears spring to her eyes from the strain.
Her head was throbbing, her powers were erratic, and there he was. Like last time he was smirking and enjoying all her pain and suffering like a sadistic parasite with magical powers.
Except for this time he looked different.
Instead of his imitation of the great wizard Rorek, he was taller, darker, sleeker. His skin was more tanned, his eyes a shocking green. He had jet black hair with tints of plum purple shining in the firelight. He was the essence of his real self, his dragon self, yet he appeared to be a common human.
"Admiring the new form, I see?"
He took the chair facing the desk and pulled it over to sit next to her, putting himself in her space. She prickled, terrified, all the while feeling sick and miserable. She scooted to the farthest end of the couch to get away from him.
"Don't you love it?" He raised a hand and admired his tanned skin.
His nails were longer and sharper than a normal human, and he had small black scales that poked in and out of bits of tendon and skin.
"I stole it from someone, though I couldn't tell you who. Neither can he, of course, he's no longer with us, but he's just what I was looking for."
She gritted her teeth. "I don't care, why—"
"You mean you don't love it?" He seemed wounded, but it was a deeply sarcastic reply. "Not what you're 'into'? It doesn't attract your tastes?"
He laughed maliciously. "Oh, well. I've heard that women can be impossible to please."
Raven stood up quickly from the couch and got a head rush, yelling, "Stop! I don't want to hear whatever you have to say!"
She swayed on her feet, cursing her human half, cursing the AC back at the Tower that she so desperately wanted to return to right now.
"I demand that you release me," her voice took on its cold, monotonous tone. "Or else I'll send you back to where you belong, believe that."
"No, Raven."
Malchior stood and reached for her arm, roughly pulling her back down onto the couch. He sat next to her and stared. His eyes were sharp and terrible, and snake-like fangs were poking holes into his bottom lip. He couldn't have had this form very long, he clearly wasn't used to it.
Malchior used his handkerchief to pat at the bloody droplets. "How embarrassing."
Then he licked his lips.
Raven shivered.
"Oh, you're cold," he grinned a fanged smile. "Here."
From the air, a large, soft, warm blanket materialized and gently floated down to land on her. She pushed it off of her and glared at him. Upon the blanket was a gloriously stitched portrait of the white grimoire that she'd once trapped Malchior in.
He frowned.
"Don't like that either, eh? Not up to your standards, hm?" He hissed.
He picked it up and tossed it back over her, and quickly the blanket enclosed her within it fastening her to the couch.
"There. Now you know what it feels like." Malchior snapped his fingers and the fire roared up from embers to full strength. "What do you think?"
"Cozy," she spit.
"Good."
They glared at one another a moment. Raven couldn't use her powers beneath the blanket and guessed that it had been charmed to work against her. It was a few moments more before Raven summoned enough courage to confront him again.
"Where am I?"
"Titan's Tower."
She frowned. "No, you're lying."
He shook his head, grinning.
"Tell me where I am," she said again. He ignored her and the flames in the fireplace slowly burned hotter and angrier.
There was a moment of dark, brooding quiet.
Raven shivered again but tried to hide it this time. If he increased the flames any more, she'd boil alive.
Malchior stood up abruptly and crossed the room. "I was deeply hurt by your melting of my little 'gift'. Deeply hurt."
He stopped in front of a wall that was entirely covered in shelves of books, vials, and maps. He gingerly plucked a small dragon figurine from an eye-level shelf and pinched it between two long, claw-like nails.
"I just had to punish you for that insult. A frigid night's sleep seemed to be appropriate, but I'd never dreamed that you'd grow ill. Tell me, Sweet Raven, have you changed since last we met?"
It was the exact same, cheap-plastic looking dragon that she'd stepped on last night. The one she thought had been one of Beast Boy's legos. Raven tried not to mentally smack herself but couldn't help it.
Of course it had to have been more than coincidence. Of course it had to be the beginning of her worst nightmare come to life.
"Why am I here? Tell me where I am!"
He set the small dragon back on the shelf and returned to his vacant seat. "You're still in the tower, Raven," he repeated, his voice emotionless.
"Liar."
He laughed, showing teeth. "You're right, I am lying. But wouldn't you have been grateful if I were telling the truth?"
She struggled against her binds. It was a soft, warm bond but it was still keeping her prisoner. She sneezed again.
"Really, Raven. A mortal's common cold? I thought you were better than that," he reached over and patted her knee. It rested there for a moment before he removed it to gently touch her face. His eyes captured hers with a dark intensity. "You have changed."
"Why am I here?" she asked again, ignoring his touch.
He rolled his eyes and released her. "Repeating yourself like this is so annoying. Really, if you're trying to interrogate me, shouldn't I be the one bound and helpless?"
"You would be if I had my powers."
He waved a dismissive hand at her. "Your powers would be useless in your current condition against me, even without the restraints."
"You don't know that."
"Raven," he hushed her roughly.
Raven had never been afraid of anyone but her father, but this was a man who had shattered her once. She feared, being especially vulnerable as she was, that he would do it again. He'd built her up; told her things. Promised her things; a future of happiness and companionship. The end to her loneliness.
He'd lied.
It was like a slap, and Raven had never been privy to an insult of that caliber before because she'd never let herself be played. She'd had so much hope then, a hope that she'd never thought she could possess, and he'd ground it up in his teeth and spit it back in her face.
She hated him.
"I've brought you here to catch up," he smiled in a twisted version of warmth. "You used to love to talk to me."
His lip wasn't bleeding anymore, instead, it was swollen and angry-looking. His human form was going to fall apart if his dragon side kept seeping in like that.
"Would you join me in a game?"
A coffee table appeared next to the couch, the fire bathed the pieces, shiny cards, and a pair of dice in a glowing, warm light. On the table was the RPG game that Beast Boy had brought home. The one that she loved; the one that she was playing before passing out.
Before I wound up…here.
The pieces suddenly took on familiar forms and she felt like crying, screaming, and cursing. Instead, she monotonously breathed out, "my friends. What have you done to my friends?"
Malchior reached over and gingerly plucked the Starfire piece from the board.
"Look at her, a real princess in my fantasy land." He held her out to the roaring fire. "Should I melt her like you did my gift?"
Raven's eyes widened. "No! Please!" Her gaze darted from piece to his face, gauging his reaction.
He grinned again, reopening his wounds. His face was contorted into a snake-like sneer.
"There it is: motivation," he patted her knee again. "Would you like to return home, Raven?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Then play the game with me, win, and try not to get your troops killed in the process."
...
Robin had to grab Cyborg by the arm and force him to lower his weapon. Five trees had already been blown away by his sonic cannon and he didn't need whatever creatures lurking here to come down on his team.
"Enough!" he commanded. "You don't know what's out there, calm down!"
Cyborg wasn't having it. "We've been walking for almost two hours and my scanners indicate that we literally haven't moved!" He pointed at the dirt beneath them. "It's like we've been on a treadmill! For two hours!"
"Almost two hours," Beast Boy corrected him.
"I'm gonna kill you!" Cyborg moved to smack Beast Boy on the head but missed.
Beast Boy shrugged. "Face it, you needed the exercise."
If Cyborg's robot eye could twitch, it would have right then. "I hate you."
Robin put his face in his hand. "Okay, so plan A didn't work. Anyone got a plan B?"
They all looked at each other.
"Scream for help?" Beast Boy offered.
"Perhaps we must accomplish something?" Starfire added.
Suddenly, an envelope fell from the sky and landed at their feet on the dirt road with a thud.
They stared down at it for a moment before Beast Boy whooped in triumph.
"STAR! Way to GO!"
Starfire looked dumbfounded. "But, I did nothing!"
Robin had already picked up the envelope and used his bird-a-rang to slice it open. He ignored the fancy, dark purple seal for now. "Greetings, Players. Welcome to the Game. Your hero for this round will be player one, Raven."
He looked at them all.
"Keep going," Cyborg urged.
Robin frowned down at the paper. "Your villain for this round will be player two," he paused.
"Who is it? Master of Games?" Beast Boy asked. "Sounds like him. Or Control Freak!"
"Malchior," Robin finished.
The dread fell around them like ice water.
"What!" Starfire gasped.
Robin kept going, his voice ever more grave this time. "Your first quest needs to be accomplished without the help of your hero. Please scavenge this forest for your personal chests of loot. Within will be all the supplies you need to succeed, provided that you play by the rules. 'Heroes, after all, don't cheat'," he showed them the scratched handwriting of Malchior who had written in the margins of the otherwise typed letter. "Finally, you will report back here, if you can find your chests and make it out alive. Good luck, Team Hero."
The forest around them creaked and moaned. A wind that had not been there all day picked up and swept through their hair. The sun was just about to set, and distant shining lights burst into the sky. Like searchlights or the Bat-Signal, they blazed into the waning twilight, cutting through the darkness. Each one was a different color: Red, Green, Orange, and Blue.
Starfire took off like a bullet toward the orange light that was clearly meant for her.
"Starfire!" Robin called after her, concerned.
"Let's go!" Beast Boy started to run but Robin grabbed him.
"No! We don't know what's happening!"
Beast Boy's nostrils flared. "Yes," he said with finality, "we do." Robin was shocked and dropped his hold on Beast Boy who burst his way into the forest as a cheetah and disappeared.
Cyborg and Robin looked at each other before both, exasperated, ran after their team. "Titans go…" Robin mumbled under his breath.
Hidden now beneath the trees, neither of them saw the dark, flying shapes take off after Starfire in hot pursuit.
...
"Stop!" Raven cried.
She reached out a hand and grasped Malchior's wrist. He'd allowed her to sit up straight in the middle of the couch and gave her the freedom to move her arms so she could play. However, her legs were still trapped within the blanket to keep her securely fastened to the red, plush cushion.
He patted her hand, infuriating her more. It took no effort for him to pull her hand off of him. His nails scraped against her skin in the process.
"Oh, Sweet Raven, I'm merely playing the game."
"You're cheating!" She winced at the scrape on her hand. "Call off the wyverns."
"No."
Her pleading did nothing to change his mind. She watched helplessly as moving, winged pieces traveled along the game board. They were slow and blurry, but she could see them for what they were.
Her orange piece, her warrior princess, was being hunted.
As per the rules, she wasn't allowed to help her friends in this first quest, and if she cheated, she'd lose by default.
You can do it, Starfire, she thought. Please.
A changeling, a knight, a warrior princess, and a cyborg. They were the only things she had to win. Besides that, there were a few trap cards and a spell card here and there to make up the rest of her deck. Malchior, on the other hand, held a whole stack of nasty, dark things that could -no, would prey upon her friends.
Raven sneezed into her sleeve and set her gaze. She was focused, a strategist. She would do this.
Or they would die.