The room was dark – which was really only to be expected. He was the embodiment of darkness. 'Though,' she thought with a frown, 'His army is made of fire, despite my own affinity. I wonder how that works.' To her surprise, he did not resemble the red-skinned behemoth she remembered. Instead, he stood, with his back to her, at a height that was perhaps a foot-and-a-half taller than Cyborg, and though his stature was still inhuman, it was nowhere near the God-like eminence he had adopted on his visit to Earth.

Upon her entrance, he looked up slowly, his eyes staying on the heavy volume he was holding in a reluctance that told not of an interesting passage, but of one that was necessary to read. He shut the book after marking the page with the leather chord that had been hanging out of the tome (apparently, even almighty demon lords got frustrated when they couldn't locate a page) and fixed her with two eyes that would have been very human-looking, had it not been for the sheer blackness that dominated the iris, and the fact that her skin itched uncomfortably when he looked at her.

"Daughter," he said, voice booming through the large room commandingly, "Come forward."

She obeyed, but only because she was shocked at the suave that he expressed in this being. He walked towards her, feet in study boots (an insignificant part of his overall attire, which was reminiscent of the military-like uniform of the last Tzar) and paused directly in front of her, face betraying no emotion, although the air that curled around them tasted of his smugness at having finally reduced her to silence. She could feel his eyes on her, absorbing her own expressionless features, the way she was attempting to slow her breathing and display apathy parallel to his, her rigid posture in the face of a deceptively respectable being. He waited until she was ready to break the silence herself before continuing:

"Hold out your hand."

Again, she obeyed, extending an open palm as if accepting a bocce ball. In one fast, snake-like movement, he grabbed her wrist, pushed back her sleeve as if checking for scars, and wrapped his hand tightly around her forearm, enough that it would cut off her circulation eventually. A flash of near-burning heat and then biting cold where his hand was told of magic; he released her. She lifted her arm to her face, but found no mark.

'What did you do?" Amazingly, she'd found her voice. Even more remarkable, it was even, firm, and retained its usual annoyed edge.

"Insurance. That will make sure you do not disobey me and are not harmed before you have served your purpose," he explained, then walked lazily to the desk that sat buried under papers at the other end of the room and leaned on it. He did not allow her to form a retort, "You will meet your betrothed this evening at a dinner. To ensure that you do not embarrass me, you will both meet privately beforehand in the presence of myself and Her Majesty, the Lady of the Dragons."

Raven narrowly avoided a twitch, "Who is it that I am to wed?" She said the word with as much scorn and mockery as she could, crossing her arms and leaning onto one leg with all the teenage rebellion she could muster.

Without warning, her father appeared directly in front of her, his large hand wrapping around her throat dangerously, "Do not dare to be so careless!" His eyes were wide, dangerous, glowing faintly with the very emotion she had taught herself to stifle best, "If you, you stupid, little girl, would stop to think for one moment, you wouldn't be so quick to ridicule me, especially not in my land." Raven's heartbeat had increased dramatically, and she had no doubt he could feel it with his long fingers pressed so tightly against her pulse point. In his rage, he'd lifted her off the ground and now proceeded to drop her unceremoniously on the rough carpet that, Raven noted with some disgust as she was coughing for air, was stained in many places and smelled not only of blood, but also of alcohol, toxins and sex.

"This realm is known for its power; those pathetic creatures that are exiled from their own barbaric lands would kill themselves before they step foot here," her father's face twisted in hate, and, for the slightest moment, she was reminded of Beastboy when he'd been affected by the radioactive waste from his fight with Adonis. That anger – it wasn't artificial, like back then, but it still wasn't all there was to it. "Once that coward gains control of our land, our subjects will be slaughtered."

Raven scowled, standing up off the filthy carpet quickly and rubbing her throat, "And what does that matter to you? It's not like you've ever had any respect for those who worked under you," she said, thinking of Slade.

Trigon smirked, nearly grinning, and she could easily see the white-haired giant that had come to Earth in his face. Any curiosity that had been taking hold, or understanding urged on by her powers disappeared on the spot as she remembered the red skies…the fire…the stone. This was not a ruler, this was a demon. A monster that had never deigned to repent, and, through some sick twist of fate, had created her. She hardened to the humanoid; there was nothing human about him.

"I do not respect those who cannot understand even the basics of my being," he answered, gazing into the embers of the man-sized fireplace that, no doubt, had been the spot of many assassinations, "I am evil manifested, and my kind sleep next to deceit like a lover," he said, surprisingly poetic, "The people of this realm know this. They know that you must be strong to survive, and that even the weakest, dumbest mongrel will cheat you if they get the chance. Every member of my court has tried to assassinate me at least once." He turned to her, "They are kept in line with fear only. Not one of them, not any creature has ever managed to defeat me. Except you."

Raven started; he walked over to her, eyes steely, "You, Raven, could easily be mistaken for the most powerful being on this side of the realm. Granted, you did not kill me, and didn't even weaken me enough to change my position here, but you drove me back here with naught but your own power, and, despite your helplessness at my hand now, not one being in the entire palace would dare to cross you because they believe that given half the chance, you can annihilate each and every one of them."

"I…am not supposed to be your first choice, am I?" she said slowly, piecing things together as his words shed more light on the subject. Word of her father's defeat had found its way here. His power was questioned, but had remained as firm as ever – after all, he'd only been a fraction as powerful on Earth – and it was determined that nothing about him had changed. And if he wasn't weaker, then she must've been stronger.

He laughed loudly, "That would be ridiculous. You have hundreds of siblings, dozens of which are perfectly eligible for your position, but you are the only one the crowds will follow. Without the army…"

"…There is no war," she finished.

He nodded with another smirk, "Only butchery. Which, I believe, you are against."

She scowled, "I do not care what happens down here. The place that has my protection is Earth."

Trigon frowned, "And, do you think that Earth is so untouchable?"

She bristled, "Is that a threat? You can't even get to Earth again!"

"Indeed. I can't and won't bother, now that you've gone through the trouble of exorcising me," he said, glaring at her dully, "But don't think that our opponent won't. The only reason we fear invasion is because his empire is overflowing. They've spilled into both the lower levels and part of the upper. And since the second is beating them back with close to everything it has, their next goal is the very place that, soon, they will not be restricted from clearing. Here."

"He has no way to get to Earth. Even if he did, my team and I could beat him back."

"No, Raven," Trigon said with a note of finality, nostrils flaring, "I had no way of getting to Earth. That was why I was confined down here, after all – so that I could not even touch a human. But I did," he looked at her with some disdain, "Had I factored in the possibility of you unlocking your power and my own weakened state, I would have gotten rid of you or opened a portal to Hell, to allow miasma to strengthen me. I suppose I was too eager, though, and that cost me my throne. But you can be sure that after such an example, Lord Bane will not make my same mistake." He did not allow her to gather another argument – she could still mess it up for him (there was bound to be a way to get his insurance off), or her friends would storm the place at the slightest sign of her trouble (well, not without some significant help, but he didn't have to know that) – and plowed onwards, giving no regard to her furious expression.

"I implore you not to attempt to remove that," he looked at her arm, "And will alert Elimona of the proper time for your arrival in the Third Chamber. She will select the appropriate attire for you." He walked back to his desk and nimbly lifted the text he'd been reading when she came in, flipping open to the page he'd been on and removing the chord, resuming his calm position against his desk.

Raven fisted her hands, teeth grinding at his treatment of her as if she were a child, but he refused to acknowledge it. She knew he knew about her aggravation, but guessed that he chose to pretend it wasn't there to further anger her. 'It's a trick of his…don't fall for it…all your life, he's been working to make you angry…don't fall for it…' But, damn, it was hard.

"Raven." She looked up. "Please leave."

She did, but couldn't resist giving him the finger over her shoulder on her way out.

…

…

A/N: Ah…No-one gets under Raven's skin like her father. Updates for this story will increase around June (like, really increase, although the chapters will be just as short as the previous three), so I hope that this meager offering will keep readers satisfied until then.

Please review.