Title: Masks and Men
Chapter Title: Candlelight
Rating: T for swearing and mild violence and mature themes
Disclaimer: I don't own this… I think that's why there's Teen Titans Go and no season 6.
Author Notes: Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! Ya'll are AWESOME! You guys are so kind and fabulous. I'm so grateful that you've taken time to review, follow, and/or favorite. There's nothing a writer loves more than listen to comments and constructive criticism.
One more chapter plus an epilogue plus a bonus scene to go! YAAAY! Nearly done! I might make more bonus scenes. Dunno. It depends if I feel like it can add anything else. Anyway, this chapter sets up The End, pun intended. I always wondered how Slade got the Ring of Azar because he wasn't wearing it before. My headcannon was Raven gave it to him, but that might just be from my shipping goggles.
…why can't I ship cannon ships? Darn it! Why are my OTPs always borderline crack ships? The struggle is so real…
Cough. Anyhow, on a different note, please enjoy!
"All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle."
-St. Francis of Assisi
They descend into the cavern in silence.
To the untrained eye, Raven is the very picture of defiance and resolution. Even as they are marching toward the End, she is the oak tree that refuses to bend. (He hopes she isn't the oak that will be broken.)
Visibly, she is the same Raven that had lashed out at him in her mind. Her eyes are not rimmed with red. She will not cry. If history ever recalls the End, they'll remember her as someone who bravely, viciously fought against her Destiny… Or they'll just heap all the blame upon her shoulders. (Who knows if there will anyone around to remember after Trigon returns?)
The only sign of her tacit resignation to her fate is the dejected slump in her shoulders.
He reaches out to touch her shoulder. Their thoughts tangle together. The bond that binds them together has strengthened to the point where there is no need for any words. He sends reassurance for her doubts, faith for her reservations.
(Still, in spite of everything, he doesn't have to send any hope.)
He tilts his head to survey her. "You don't look like someone who will destroy the world."
"You have a point." She gives him a wry grin and walks a little taller. "If I'm going to destroy the world, I might as well act like it."
His lips curve into a smirk. "When you say things like that, I regret the fact I never chose you as my apprentice."
She laughs, and his heart feels lighter. Then she looks at him, violet eyes gazing at him with an emotion he can't quite place. "Thank you."
"For what?"
She smiles. "For everything."
He scoffs. (Because he can't find the words or the courage to say them.) "I suppose, even the emotionless ones get sappy at the end."
Raven shakes her head, smile never fading. "It's not the end."
"Not yet." Brother Blood's voice echoes in the cavern. With an army of fire demons by his side, the man sweeps between the two of them, his hand draping itself over Raven's shoulder. "Hello, Raven."
Her face remains impassive, but he can feel the disgust radiating from her. "Unhand me, servant. Now."
"Now, now," Brother Blood silkily murmurs in her ear, his fingers dancing from her shoulder and moving steadily downward. "Is that any way to treat your father's favorite—"
Slade jerks him away from her and slams the man against the wall with a satisfying crunch. Two—no three broken ribs. Some internal bleeding. His hands find Brother Blood's neck and he begins to squeeze. Brother Blood begins to sputter, his face turning an odd shade of blue. The fire demons beside him start to move, but Raven's commanding hand freezes them in place.
"Slade. Enough." Raven touches his arm. "Leave him. He's insignificant."
Reluctantly, Slade releases the man from his death-grip. "As you wish."
They turn to leave, not even bothering to watch Brother Blood drop like a stone. He lies there, gasping and panting for air. Blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth. Brother Blood looks at Raven with hatred burning in his eyes. "You will fail. You will fall. Even you, a half-demon bastard, can't fight against Fate."
"Do yourself a favor." Raven turns a lazy eye toward him. "Shut up."
"I'll enjoy watching your entire world burn," Brother Blood continues, his voice borderline hysteric. "I'll be first in line to watch your friends becomes nothing more than ashes. Or better yet, Trigon will reward me for my services and let me kill them myself!"
Raven seizes the man by the collar, eyes blazing with all the hate of hell. "If you threaten my friends again…" Her voice drops forty degrees below and it doesn't look like it will warm up any time soon. "I'll let you live after I'm through with you."
"Ha! As if a goody-goody two shoes like yourself could ever make me afraid."
"Try me." Her hands glow crimson. Red runes begin to creep up Brother Blood's neck and he starts to thrash and shriek as they begin to burn. Her eyes form that bloodthirsty quartet of crimson. She laughs and laughs and laughs as Brother Blood is reduced to a sniveling wreck.
And then she stops. She's breathing heavily, as if she's been to the edge and nearly took a flying leap off it and only just pulled out at the last moment.
Brother Blood hastily scrambles to his feet, her marks still on his skin. "I'll… I'll…"
"What?" She smirks, and she looks just like her father. Her shadow casts Brother Blood in nothing but darkness and despair. "Stammer at me? You're nothing but a little puppet in my father's game. An insignificant pawn. You think being my father's little puppy gives you power? How cute."
Slade touches her shoulder. "Raven."
She looks at him, and he sees those familiar amethyst eyes and not that bloodthirsty gaze.
They are tightrope walkers, trying desperately to balance their two sides, but the rope is unsteady, and one wrong step could cause them to end up at the bottom of hell.
They'll fall. (But at least they will fall together and they won't feel so alone.)
She gives him the smallest of nods. "Let's go."
They walk the rest of the way in silence.
The silence doesn't last. (Nothing can when it comes to Trigon.)
The entire journey to the cavern is littered with his constant crooning in her mind. Trigon's eyes smile from the darkness. Raven's steps get slower and slower with every moment, her hands flying to her head to try to calm her throbbing temple.
Kill him! Obliterate the fool!
The mark of Skaath burns onto her skin. His mark, His daughter, His. (She was always His; she never was his, never could be.)
He's nothing more than an insignificant mortal! Either you destroy him or I will!
She falls to the floor clutching her head. He can only watch as Trigon begins to mentally tear her apart until she can't take it any longer.
You will obey me, daughter. Now.
She can no longer ignore his orders, and her hands flare to life.
She has to do this. (Doesn't mean she wants to.)
"I'm sorry, Slade" she whispers, crystal tears in her eyes. "So sorry."
Destroy him!
Slade tries to reach out through their bond, but Raven won't let him in. All of a sudden, she is in front of him, eyes blazing. His flesh is ripped from him and returns to being just re-animated bones. She smashes him to the ground with all the hate of hell behind her. His limbs twist every which way. He doesn't feel any pain as a skeleton, but he can feel hers.
(And that hurts enough.)
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
As she pins him to the floor, he touches her cheek. It's okay.
It's not. They both know that.
(And with this, Trigon notes with some satisfaction, her corruption is complete.)
—
She leaves him as nothing more than shadow and shattered bones. She leaves him there, along with parts of herself. Broken.
(There's no hope anywhere.)
Raven turns away and doesn't look back.
Slade is left alone in the darkness. As he struggles to put himself back together, he notices a glint of gold that shines through the shadows.
Reaching forward, Slade finds a ring of gold. He vaguely remembers seeing that in her mind—the Ring of Azar, a relic of Azarath that would ward off Trigon's powers. New red runes twist around the ring, runes that written in her own hand. Thanks to her memories, he can read the inscriptions.
Be safe.
The ring is warm in his hands, like a little candle that shines through the darkness.
(There's still hope.)
Thank you for reading!
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