I think this story needs more Wilson. Any ideas? Perhaps scenes from the past?
Chapter 8
Disclaimer: Look in Chapter 1
Roy Harper's eyes scanned the terrain, a strange sense of unease condensing in his stomach. Why did he feel like he was being watched? Pausing mid mid-step, the young man stared into thicket of greenery on his left, fingers slowly reaching for the arrows across his shoulder.
Turning slowly, the archer appraised the crowd in front of him, watching as the white-haired man placed the squirming six year old into Richard's unsuspecting arms and calmly withdrew a revolver from the folds of his trench coat.
"Victor, Garfield, come here now." The archer intoned, nocking an arrow with precision. He ignored the questioning looks; there was no time for such. These bandits may have been following them for a while, perhaps waiting to escape the city boundaries. Pursing his lips, Roy resisted the urge to groan out loud.
Wasn't the intent of taking this road to avoid bandits? Resisting the urge to sigh, the young man glanced quickly at the strangely darkening sky, was a storm brewing? Was it not sunny and calm a few hours ago? Cobalt blue eyes glanced warily at the priestess, noting her clenched fists and squared shoulders.
Was this strange weather the result of her moods? Was she able to control the weather as well?
"Roy Harper. Weapons Expert. Demon Slayer. Can you handle your own against a band of forty thieves? Or does the Church only sanction the genocide of my people?" The priestess questioned, without bothering to glance in his direction. The woman's arrogant posture was infuriating enough; must she always speak to him with such a condescending tone?
"Just don't get in my way." Roy retorted, itching to send one of his arrows in her direction. The man watched with veiled surprise as the woman finally acknowledged him, her violet eyes glittering with pleasure.
"You wish to strike me, do you not?" A sadistic laugh bubbled from her blood red lips. "Go on, shoot me!" The woman shoot before him, hands outstretched, taunting him with that conceited tone.
"Enough!" Wilson uttered as he strode forward, resting his hands tightly around the priestess' shoulders. "We don't have time for games. Roy, put that bow away. Any sign of aggression will only cause them to attack."
Roy Harper complied, quietly watching as Wilson extracted the still squirming toddler from Richard's awkward grasp and placed her into the priestess' arms… giving her a strange admonishment to 'act motherly'. Whatever did that mean?
The priestess laughed at Wilson's instruction. "Motherly? I know not of such things." Nevertheless, the young woman draped the sleeping child against her back, securing her in place with the sash of her outfit.
Roy couldn't help but stare in wonder as the priestess assumed her role with ease. Did she truly know nothing of being a mother? How did she then know to secure the child in such a manner? And using the style common to the people of the Southern Kingdom?
Was she a mere demon, a creature he often hunted and killed during his travels? Or was she truly the long lost daughter of Trigon? Could that explain the strange powers and uncanny strength? A mere demon would never have stopped an arrow of his….it was nigh impossible!
"Harper, protect Raven." Wilson quietly intoned and moved ahead, a calculating finesse to his silent footsteps.
"Raven. Wilson called you Raven. Twice. " Richard questioned aloud, his eyes slanted towards the priestess. "What is your name, truly?"
Roy watched as the young woman turned slightly, and he could almost feel the smug look as it spread on the woman's features. Such arrogance! Clenching the bow in his hand, Roy swallowed his displeasure and plodded on, hoping a small stream would pass through the old city road.
oOoOo
"My name is whatever you want it to be, Richard." The solemnness coated over the priestess statement, did little to conceal the amusement emanating from her eyes. The young woman paused quickly, shifting the sleeping child on her back before resuming her shuffling gait.
Richard couldn't help but bristle in annoyance. Of course she would reply with such vague nonsense. Why did he even bother? Gritting his teeth, the man eyed the girl with a visage of anger etched onto his features. Had he been tricked this whole time? How many weeks had it been…yet she refused to mention her true identity?
"Stop with all the riddles!" The loud and irritable voice flew from his lips without thought.
Like clockwork, everyone halted in their steps and spun round, eyes wide and blinking with wonder. A gust of wind blew through the dusty path, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Richard glared back, trying hard not to blink at the dust stinging his face. "I demand the truth! What is your name, woman!"
The priestess pursed her lips, an odd emotion flickering in her eyes. Shifting her stance, the woman stared at the sky for several quiet minutes. "You dare to command me so haughtily as if I am your slave?"
The woman finally met his gaze, her violet eyes now cold and teeming with displeasure. "You should be pleased, Richard Grayson…did you not come to Azarath looking for Arella? Did you not swear upon your dead father's grave to make Arella pay for murdering him? Arella is here...and still you complain." A chuckle left the priestess' lips and she snapped her fingers in amusement.
"I told you before, Richard. I will give no answers until you bestow upon me the respect I deserve. How long will it take till the great captain shows humility? I'm a very patient woman, Grayson."
oOoOo
The strait was an odd gray color today…and the sky was equally as downcast. Victor stared at the water wondering if it was wise to cross the choppy waters. Turning, the young man took in the crowd of people that huddled on the ferry…clutching bags and sacks of belongings. These must be refugees, trying to escape the civil war that Wilson somehow managed to evade.
The clacking sound of dice entered his ears and Victor couldn't help but smile as he watched the young priestess and Garfield playing dice with the small, shabbily clothed children. Most of them were healthy…surprisingly. All they needed was good food and a clean place to sleep. These people had traveled or miles…hoping for safety.
Victor shook his head. And what exactly had he journeyed for these thousands of miles? Revenge? Retribution? Was it worth it? Traveling for days on roads hidden for decades? Enduring the ever-present threat of renegade bandits? Sleeping on the rough and uneven ground for nights?
The ferry lurched suddenly and Victor gripped the rails tightly, taking in the busy docks. How many more miles was it from these docks to Richard's house? Or perhaps the priestess would be taken straight to the prisons? Somehow, he didn't think Wilson would allow the latter.
Victor's hazel eyes landed on the white-haired mercenary, watching the way he pulled the priestess to her feet and brushed the dirt from her tunic. Strangely, the man seemed less the doting lover and more like a reluctant caretaker. Exactly who was he?
How does a person exhibit such opposite personalities? Is Wilson truly the feared and ruthless mercenary spoken and hailed in rumors? This man's feats were acknowledged across the kingdoms, many tales spoke of his immortality…a gift bestowed upon him by Trigon himself.
But was any of it even accurate? There was always a sliver of truth in gossip…Victor just couldn't figure out which tale was truth and which was a lie.
"Victor!"
Richard's voice entered his ears and Victor slowly began to make his way off the ferry and onto the docks. The sea was growing more restless by the minute and Victor clutched the rails tightly as he tried to move against the swaying ferry. A sigh escaped the man's lips; it was one thing to travel by boat…quite another to ferry across a strait known for violent and sudden storms.
Staring straight ahead, Victor's brown eyes landed on the strange purple-colored irises of the priestess. How does one have such a strange eye color? He would think her to be Lastonian...but the dark tresses disproved such a theory.
A bright smile broke out on the priestess face as she jumped and waved at him eagerly. Victor couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips…nor could he deny the swell of courage filling his heart. As he stepped off the boat, the man glanced in awe as the sun broke from the clouds and the sea stilled.
It was as if she calmed the sea…just for him.
oOoOo
Wilson had disappeared.
Richard wasn't sure when or why…the man simply vanished the night the group had made it to shore. Strangely enough, it seemed like the priestess didn't care at all? Perhaps she knew where he went?
Richard shook his head; the woman wouldn't divulge such truths, especially to him. He even offered her the choice of house arrest if she would reveal the mercenary's whereabouts. It was all to no avail. Now the priestess resided in the town prison, awaiting her trial.
Leaning back, Richard took a sip of the bourbon in his glass. How long had he been traveling? A month plus? And still he had not laid eyes on his beloved Korianna. Perhaps she was angry with him?
The young man placed his hands wearily on the heavy oak table and leaned forward, ice blue eyes scanning the many books that lined the shelves of his study. There were many of the books on that shelf that didn't belong to him...he'd never been a heavy reader.
Standing swiftly, the now ex-captain stretched his aching limbs and exited the study, determined to see his fiancé. Should he walk? Or maybe take a horse?
oOoOo
The sound of delighted laughter and mindless chattering filled Richard's ears as he followed the butler into the garden. The man said nothing as he continued walking down the long hallway. Hadn't Korianna been decorating this wing of the mansion before he left?
Some of these paintings were brand new…even the paint on the walls. Richard couldn't help but wonder what the rest of the house looked like. Maybe he'd tour the entire place later. Pausing, the man eyed one of the many regal looking paintings as a maid slipped past him balancing a tray of filled wine glasses.
What kind of gathering would this be? Pausing mid-step, the young man's eyes widened as he watched several servants bustle in carrying bundles of cloth. Perhaps he was mistaken…maybe the lighting wasn't the best, could that really have been Arella's tunic?
The faded green and yellow tunic she mysteriously donned during the ridiculously long trek through the Northern Kingdoms…what was it doing here?Pursing his lips, the young man briskly walked past the butler and began to dash towards the garden. She wouldn't have…Korianna couldn't have.
Richard pushed the doors open and skidded to a stop, mouth dropping in wonder.
Inhaling slowly, the young man quietly walked closer to the intriguing sight. There, struggling viciously to escape the iron-grip of several housekeepers was the priestess. He watched in astonishment as the maids viciously restrained the young woman and proceeded to encase her within the rigid confines of a beautifully embroidered corset.
Richard couldn't help the shudder that coursed through his body as the priestess screamed in agony. The man's feet seemed to freeze as he stumbled back, hands clamping over his ears in desperation as the woman let out another tortured cry. Whirling, the young man stalked towards the house with an angry frown.
Why does Korianna insist on playing these games? With force the man threw open the door to the verandah and stomped in, ice blue eyes coming to rest on his troublesome fiancée. "Korianna, you shouldn't have released her from the prison…that woman is dangerous. I didn't bring her back for you to model the latest fashions!"
"Richard Grayson, is that how you greet your beloved wife-to-be after weeks at sea?" Korianna turned and smiled happily, arms stretched out wide, "Won't you kiss me?"
oOoOo
"I understand, Richard. I really do, but just look at her. She's so uncivilized! How is she supposed to stand trial when she can't even speak English? And her posture!" The red-haired heiress shook her perfectly coiled hair in disgust.
The young woman set down the china cup firmly against the table, a huff of defiance escaping her rouged lips. "I simply could not let such a travesty grace the High Court. "
Richard nodded, his ice blue eyes staring into a cup of tea. "I get it. But you have to understand…she's a priestess, a really revered person in Azarath. You can't just tie her down and decorate her like a doll…especially outside! And she does speak English...and French and Armenian; she speaks the common Northern language, and the language of Azarath. Even Lastonian!"
Korianna's green eyes glittered in intrigue. Rising, the woman stepped towards the balcony, watching the struggling maids attempt to style the woman's thick, dark locks. "So many languages!" A flicker of emotion passed briefly through the heiress' twinkling eyes as she stared across the verandah. "It wasn't like this earlier. She was rather calm during her bath….Do they wear corsets in Azarath, Richard?"
Richard choked, setting down the glass and pressing a cloth napkin to the mess he'd created on the table. "Heavens, no! The climate is much too hot and the people do not care for the confines of corsets and petticoats."
Korianna pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I should like to visit Azarath, and study their strange ways. Perhaps one might find a bit of usefulness in such carefree attitudes." The heiress crossed the room, and rested a gloved hand against Richard's shoulder. "Come and see …the priestess looks so lady-like now!"
Richard blinked. Did Kori even listen to anything he said? Shaking his head with a small smile, the young man stepped out into the gardens, a sense of dread filling his stomach with every hesitant step. Why was he feeling this way?
"Arella." Somehow, Richard wasn't expecting her to look so…so proper. Was this not the uncultured woman who made his life miserable these past few months? The shameless woman with her excessive jewelry and immodest clothing who tormented and filled his mind with ungodly images?
A soft wind floated through the garden, the cool evening air ruffling the long skirts of the elegant purple gown, worn by the priestess. The black corset laced around her torso and the long ruffled sleeves seemed odd on her…she looked so pale now, so lifeless.
The young man swallowed thickly at the strange feeling welling up in his heart; her feet…those same legs that ran, skipped and climbed to the top of the ship's mast, now were trapped within a pair of sophisticated black shoes. Even her hair…her long loose braid had been coiffed, curled and hidden away under an expensive looking hat.
Everything about her…all her annoying characteristics, the arrogant stance, the sassy tilt to her eyebrows and the impish smirk…all had disappeared. Arella was now an emotionless doll.
"What have I done?" Richard whispered, horror filling his heart.
All his actions, suddenly he saw them anew…and he couldn't help the self-loathing that plagued his mind. He forcibly captured this woman…tore her away from the only home she'd ever known, tortured, abused and mistreated her…and for what?
Revenge? Retribution?
She was free once…happy and liberated. What had he done? The mischievous twinkle in her strange colored eyes disappeared the minute she entered the prison cell… now this.
Now she was trapped within the folds and frills of 'civilization'. Her spirit caged and stifled…all to look 'lady-like'.
"I've never worn a corset before…can't say I ever want to wear one again." The woman turned, her purple eyes staring intensely at the red-haired heiress. A strange look of discomfort flitted across the woman's pale features and her delicate eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "How does one breathe in this bloody thing?" The priestess took a hasty step forward, stumbling over the unfamiliar shoes.
Richard dashed forward, shaking arms pulling the woman back to her unstable feet. "I'm sorry", the words left his lips without thought and he stared into her pain filled eyes, saying nothing about the look of arrogance that flitted across her face.
"Kori, tell them to loosen the corset…she's having trouble breathing. No, just get rid of it...I doubt anyone would feel up to testifying while in pain."
The priestess smirked. As promised my name, Richard Grayson, is Raven."
oOoOo
Cyborg had been right after all.
Richard sighed and opened his eyes slowly, taking in the two women sitting across him in the carriage. The court date was set... how would he explain to the judge this conundrum? That Arella died many years ago and her daughter would testify in her stead? Was such a thing even allowed? "Did you ever meet Bruce? At all?"
He was grasping at straws, but maybe she remembered a memory...an argument, heated discussion or even something Arella mentioned. Anything to help him find out why Bruce had been assassinated.
Raven furrowed her eyebrows as she fiddled with the black gloves covering her hands. "I believe I met him once...my mother took me to his house. Even you were there." Turning, the young woman angled her face towards the window and peered out in awe, her hot breath fogging the view.
Richard's ice blue eyes widened in disbelief. "No. I would have remembered." Had he really met her all those years ago? Pursing his lips the young man tried to recall those vivid violet eyes...staring back at him in childish wonder.
She was right! That day...four days before Bruce died! The strange woman and her weird daughter who didn't speak a word of English. It was a warm day and the servants had opened the windows, letting in a crisp autumn breeze. The toys in his room did little to quell his boredom so he took to running down the many empty corridors...and tripped on his face right in front of her. Richard shook his head as he recalled how clumsy he'd been as a child. "What business did your mother have that day?"
Raven craned her neck ever so slightly and glanced at him with in disbelief. "And why the hell would I know? I was only three." Letting out a huff the woman smoothed her dress and sat back, a slightly haughty air to her actions.
"You remembered me! And Bruce as well!. You can't use age as an excuse!" Richard half-yelled, a sense of desperation tinging his voice. "There has to be something you remember...anything!"
Violet eyes flashed with a defiant light. Richard held his breath as she leaned forward, her black gloved hand coming to rest on his knee. The young man swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Why was he feeling so...hot?
Richard tugged at the collar on his pressed white shirt and he exhaled loudly as her hand crept higher up his leg. Shifting, he clenched his fist, hoping in vain to will away his growing arousal. Embarrassed, the young man jerked his leg away, heart pounding in his chest. "What the hell was that!"
Raven sat back, a blank look on her face. "Trying to calm you down." The young woman grinned then turned to Korianna, "Do you smell smoke?"
Richard stepped out as the carriage rolled to an unexpected stop. His ice blue eyes widened in shock. Turning back he darted back through the gathering crowd and reentered the carriage gripping Korianna's hand. "The courthouse is on fire." His eyes landed on the black gloves hanging lifelessly on the seat. "Where's Raven?"
"She went in to the crowd...said something about a storm? I couldn't stop her, Richard." Korianna stepped out the buggy and scanned the crowds..."Oh!, Richard, there beside the blacksmith!"
He took off, darting through the throngs of people as the wind began to blow viciously, soot and smoke from the building burning his eyes and lungs. "Raven!" He sighed in relief as she turned around...and then froze as he stared into her glowing white eyes. A strangled whisper left his throat."Rae-"
Suddenly she raised her hands heavenward and a loud clap of thunder echoed in the sky. The square darkened as she moved her wrists in a strange, intricate pattern...she shifted, moving her feet as if performing a dance ritual.
Her hands dropped suddenly and a shout echoed across the square as torrential rain began to descend from the heavens. Richard could only gape in wonder as the slender teenager reopened her eyes and swayed on unsteady footing. Behind her the courthouse flames quickly dissipated...the fire was extinguished.
Richard blinked against the heavy rain and took a hesitant step forward, three words swirling around in his head and occupying his thoughts.
Raven had magic...
Hope you like it!
~heartless16