As Raven reaches the hall entrance and pushes open the door she peers into the back of her mind and plucks out a spell that will teleport her away from the war chamber. She went through the trouble of using a spell because phasing, while energy saving, would expose her to the fire demons that constantly roamed the grounds outside her fathers palace. They may not be able to physically harm her, but they left scars all the same. Few are aware that phasing through a person, or any type of sentient being, leaves traces. And nightmares.

So with the memory of such a transaction that had occurred years before, Raven gritted her teeth and poured her life-force into a portal home. She felt the ground under her rip apart and fling her directly onto the soft cotton covers of her bed.

The sorceress allowed herself a moment to marvel at that fact that she had once again survived her father, and Slade, before hurling headfirst into the preparations that lay ahead.

She grimly began gathering everything that she'd need on such a venture. First she unclasped the silver linked belt that hung around her waist, and put in its place a blackened chain encrusted with rubies. Normally she would have to change her cloak, but the one she was required to wear in the presence of her father would suffice. Trigon was obsessed with red, a fact that was very depressing to someone who's favorite color was blue.

Next she checked over the jagged edged dagger that rested almost constantly atop her bureau. Unsheathing it showed that fact that it hadn't been cleaned sense its last use. It was a spelled blade, so upon wiping it off it gleamed in the dim candle light. Raven remembered her disgust at herself the last time she had returned home, the magical steel bloodied, and flinging it up there. She was unable, even that very night it had occurred, to remember the face of the man who's life she'd taken with it. All that lingered was the satisfaction of watching the light go out of his eyes, and the warm liquid that flowed over her hands stop.

The reason for such a state of mind lay in the last item she gathered.

It was a golden mask, four slits over the eyes, and twisting horns reaching out the top. It would rest against her face, and then seal itself into her skin. The horns would slide up and plant themselves into her skull, but the way it physically changed her was little compared to what it did to her mind. Everything that was uniquely her, ever fiber of her self was compressed into a tiny ball and hurled into the wasteland of her consciousness. All that was left was an overwhelming rage. This single emotion would pilot her body, driving her to do things that would leave her vomiting and weak any other time.

But this monstrosity was also a necessity, for there was no other way to do what she was commanded to. And to fail was to forfeit her will to her father, because anything that got in the way of his plans was wrested under his permanent control.

Raven held the mask in her left hand, planning to delay using it until the last moment. "Here I am again." She whispered to herself, face upturned to the ceiling and eyes closed. "Gambling with my soul to further a demon." She looked down at the glimmering face in her hands and sighed in defeat. There was always a chance that she would be unable to fight it for control and win at the end of the war. Her body would no longer be her own.

"Do not fret my dear." A soft voice whispered into her ear. "I will lose you to no one. Not even yourself."

Raven did not turnaround, deciding instead to answer back by calling him a very foul name.

To her surprise Slade didn't laugh, but instead tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Do try not to enrage to many people with your tongue my dear, or someone might be tempted to cut it out." When she shifted away from his hand he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him. She stiffened in his grasp and gathered her will for an attack, but before it could be launched he brushed his lips over the top of her head and released her. Raven dropped like lighting into a crouch and shot a thick beam of blackness at him, two fingers pressed to her temple. Slade evaded it in his usual fashion of leaping out of the way and into a back flip.

The half-demon glared at him from her place on the floor, eyes glowing white, lips pressed into a thin line. The masked man leaned casually against the wall and looked her up and down. "Stress is very bad for you my dear, and I want you in perfect health for our wedding night."

Raven blanched. Sure, Slade had made many insinuating comments in the past, hinting about his wish to marry her, but never so pointedly. She was shocked enough to let a very childish word slip through her lips. "Eww!" She could have said any number of witty comebacks, but no. Years of training herself to think before she spoke out the window just when they were needed most.

Slade's one visible eye hardened. "Am I that disgusting to you? Does the thought of me make you sick?" He advanced slowly on her, gaze burning holes in her face. "I've been very patient with you dear Raven, but I can't wait for you much longer. After I have won this war, you will be my Queen." He stood in front of her and crouched down until they were level. "Got that?"

It took a moment for his words to catch up with her dazed mind, but when it did she smirked at him. "Queen? As in, successor of my father? I don't think he's planning on stepping down for a very long time. And you're human Slade, you won't even live to see it."

"This is a war Raven. People die everyday."

"No," The sorceress stood up and drew her dagger from its place on her belt. "Humans do." Slade straightened up as well, not even glancing at the weapon she held, knowing full well that her mind was much more dangerous than the hunk of metal she held.

"Then why am I still alive?" He cocked his head to one side, and studied her. "Why haven't you killed me yet? I know I infuriate you. Have you finally excepted you destiny?"

Raven sheathed her dagger and phased through the floor, her final words echoing in a fashion parody to his earlier. "I take no stock in destiny."

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--Queen of the Gnomes,'

NumbuhZero