Chakras, a book of alternate fairytales, and a strange Snow White-inspired dream which sees Raven as the Wicked Queen, Trigon as the Magic Mirror, Cyborg as the woodcutter, and Robin as Snow White. The Grimm Brothers' tale just got a whole lot grimmer…
"Snow White and the Seven Chakras"?
Uh, yeah…
Actually, it's probably better that you just don't ask…
Snow White and the Seven Chakras
"So… let's do this again. There are seven of them, right?"
Raven nodded slowly.
"Right. Seven. It's a magical number."
"And the one on your forehead-" Robin pointed at it, his brow furrowed as though in deep concentration, "-is the… wait… anahata chakra, right?"
Raven shook her head gravely.
"No. This at my forehead is the ashma chakra, although sometimes it is called the ajna chakra. The anahata chakra is the one situated at the heart."
Robin groaned and ran a hand through his hair.
"Why are we doing this again?" He moaned.
"Because you asked me to tell you about them after you asked why I wore the gemstone on my forehead."
Robin sighed.
"Okay, once more then. Go from the top."
"Alright." Raven shifted into a more comfortable position. "The seven chakras of the body – chakra means "wheel" – are the primary centers of life energy within the body. They follow a pathway through the body along the spine, called the sushumna. Each one has a different characteristic corresponding to its type of energy… and I really can't believe no-one ever taught you this, Robin, you being into martial arts and everything."
"This is meditation, not martial arts. You told me that yourself."
Raven nodded in acknowledgement.
"So you paid attention to some of it."
"Hey! I paid attention to all of it. It's just… kinda hard to remember. All those words… what language were they in?"
"Sanskrit. Here, lie back and I'll show you where they all are. Maybe you'll remember them better."
"Okay…" Robin sank back and lay on his back on the dark floor of Raven's bedroom. Around them, a ring of candles glittered, lighting a halo of flickering light that encompassed them. Raven knelt beside him.
"Right, well some of them I can't actually show you," she admitted. She put her hand at the very bottom of his stomach and flashed him a smile. "I'm not going to go any lower. The first chakra is the muladhara chakra. It's situated at the very base of the spine and is the source of all primal energy. Next-" Her hand slid upwards, settling at his naval, "-is the swadhisthana chakra. It's the second chakra and is the root of all desire." She prodded his stomach with her long slim finger as she said the last word, flashing him another knowing, wan smile. As she did so, her hand moved upwards again, to the top of his stomach now. "The third chakra, the manipura chakra, is located at the solar plexus. Again, that's one I can't really show you. It is the seat of power and assertiveness." She prodded him again. "That one seems to be in perfect working order for you…"
He scowled at her, lifting his head, and opened his mouth to fire off a snappy reply. She headed him off, however;
"This, Robin, is the anahata chakra," she said quickly, placing her hand over his heart; and over his "R" badge. "You did well to remember it, but it was not the correct name for the chakra you were referring to. The anahata, or fourth chakra, is the centre of love and compassion." Her hand went to his throat, her fingers settling at the edge of his high-necked cape. "The fifth chakra is the vishuddha chakra. Located at the throat, its main function is that of the centre of right understanding."
She took her hand from his neck and brought it to his forehead.
"This is the ashma, or ajna, chakra," she told him quietly. "It's the sixth chakra and is the centre of wisdom, intuition and balance. It's also the main focus point for meditation; that's why I wear the jewel there."
"Cool," Robin remarked, closing his eyes.
Yeah. Cool.
"And the final chakra, the seventh, is the sahasrara chakra," Raven went on, moving her hand to the crown of his head, feeling silky black hair tickling her fingertips. "It is the domicile of our highest consciousness. It is the most difficult chakra to stimulate, and few have done it. It is said that when it becomes stimulated, after many decades of practiced meditation, enlightenment is attained."
"Cool," Robin said again. He opened his eyes and sat up as Raven took her hand from his head. "And there are seven of them?"
"Yeah."
He grinned wickedly.
"Like the Seven Dwarves?" He asked sweetly.
Raven rolled her eyes in disgust, despairing of him. Not noticing, he hopped to his feet and, snatching a candle from the floor, made his way over to one of her many bookshelves.
"Hey, Raven, you got any of those creepy fairytales in here?" He asked, scouring the shelves. "You know, Brothers Grimm and stuff…"
"No!" Raven's tone was extremely defensive. Then, less cynically; "Why would I?"
He shrugged, still not turning to her.
"Dunno, seems like your kind of thing…"
She threw a redundant candle at him, missing him by a mile.
"What?" He asked, perplexed as he looked over his shoulder at her. "I didn't mean to insult you, Raven. There's nothing wrong with fairytales. Especially not if they're the creepy ones I was on about…"
He turned away again, crouching to look at the books lower down.
"Why do you want them?" She asked, getting to her feet.
He shrugged.
"Dunno. Just feel like reading some, I guess… I mean, you probably look at them differently when you're older than the way you do as a kid. Like was the Wicked Queen really so bad? Was Sleeping Beauty really all the victim she was portrayed to be?"
"I should think the answers to both of those questions would be yes," Raven replied, smoothly.
Robin shook his head.
"But were they? I mean, as a kid you're brought up on them. Sure, I remember my mom reading them to me, and when you're little all you can understand is a basic difference between right and wrong. You know the Wicked Queen was bad because she tried to kill Snow White, and she did it because she was jealous of Snow White's beauty, but you don't sense any indication of any ulterior motive beyond that. You know as well as I do that good and bad isn't as clear cut as black and white. There are gray areas that we know are there, but little kids don't. Was the Queen only in the gray area?"
Raven looked at him for a long time, as though seeing him in a new light. Then she suddenly turned on her heel and swept away, her cloak trailing behind her. Robin watched her move to her bed and then go to the small gothic wooden cabinet at the bedside; dark polished wood that was near-black. Opening the second drawer she drew out a large black leather-bound book with a tarnished silver clasp. Turning back to face him, she held the book to her chest.
"I have… this…" She looked at the floor for a second, then up at him.
He stared at her for a second; then laughed incredulously.
"Are you serious? You hid it? Raven, no-one ever comes in your room without permission; no-one's gonna find it! Besides, it's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Actually, Beast Boy sneaks in here without permission," Raven replied snippily. "And I didn't hide it because I am ashamed of it. I hid it because Beast Boy comes into my room and goes through my things, and this book is very rare and old and he would flip through it and probably wreck it."
Robin nodded, not able to argue at that very valid point.
"So what is it? Brothers Grimm?"
Raven shook her head.
"No." She turned it around and held it out, offering it to him. He came closer and took it, surprised at its weight.
"Beyond Brothers Grimm: The Alternate Popular Fairytale Classics," he read aloud from the gothic faded gold lettering on the front. There was no author's name; just those eight words. He raised an eyebrow, looking up at her. "Alternate?"
Raven smirked.
"Yeah. I found it in a second-hand bookshop about three months ago and couldn't resist it. It was written by a whole lot of anonymous writers; they all put their stories together to make the book. It's really, really old… I think it might be Victorian, or maybe older than that. It's British, although two of the writers were American."
"And "alternate"?"
"Oh, well, these writers took all the old popular fairytales and gave them bad endings. Basically they undid the work the Grimm Brothers did to the tales. Originally most of them had bad endings."
"Like…?"
"Well, in Rapunzel, the prince who tried to climb up her hair to rescue her met a dire end when the witch keeping Rapunzel prisoner cut her braid off when he was nearly all the way up the tower. They didn't have grappling hooks in those days; you can imagine what happened to him."
"And Rapunzel?"
"The witch had her beheaded as punishment."
"Oh." Robin looked at the book again with definite interest. "Not such a happy ending then…"
"And in Sleeping Beauty, the prince who came to rescue her raped her in her sleep and then woke her. She became pregnant and she and the baby died in childbirth."
Robin looked at her incredulously, his masked eyes wide. Then he looked back the book again.
"You're welcome to borrow it."
He looked up.
"Great. Thanks. I'd like to. But…" He opened it to the contents page and scanned down it. "…Ah, here we are…"
"What?" Raven asked as he began to flip though the book in search of the page he had located in the index.
"First," Robin said brightly, coming to a halt and turning the book around to show her, "you and me are gonna read Snow White."
Raven's eyebrow arched.
"Why?"
"I wanna find out more about these seven chakras," he quipped, settling himself at the foot of her bed, the book open on his lap. "I mean, dwarves…"
"Ha. Ha." Raven's response was dry as the Sahara. She seated herself next to him. He shifted again, then stood and flung himself face-first onto the silk sheets, settling for lying on his stomach with the book flat on the sheets. A few seconds later Raven wriggled up alongside him in a similar position.
"Whoa, this thing is crusty," Robin remarked, smoothing the pages out with his hands.
"I told you, it's old." Raven rested her head in her hands and nudged up against him, beginning to read.
He copied her and they read in silence for a while, lying side by side on the bed, with only the flickering candlelight allowing them to even see the page.
"You could be Snow White, Ray," Robin murmured after a while.
"Hmm?"
"I said you could be Snow White."
Raven snorted with laughter.
"Way to lay it on thick, Robin. Truthfully, I think I would more than likely be the Wicked Queen. You know, "Mirror, Mirror", all that jazz…"
Robin glanced around her room, eying the ineffable amount of mirrors she had hanging on the walls.
"Okay, point taken." He looked down at the page again. "Who would be Snow White, then? Star?"
Raven shook her head.
"Star doesn't fit the description. "Skin white as snow"; Starfire's more gold than that bimbo on the fake tan adverts that Beast Boy keeps drooling over…" She looked hard at him. "Now you… you could be Snow White."
"I don't fit the description either. It doesn't say anywhere here that "Princess Snow White" was a guy…"
"You know what I mean."
He looked up at her and their gazes met.
"I'm afraid I don't."
"Well…" She nudged against him again, rolling him onto his back, laying the length of her lithe body on top of his; the back of his head rested on the open book as though it was a pillow. "Let's see…" She stroked his spiky fringe. "Hair black as ebony… you have that, and more to the point, you're the only one on the team who has."
He preened and grinned.
"Okay, and…?"
"Next to me, you're the palest… Skin white as snow…"
"Lips red as a rose… now I don't have those… is that even possible? I've never seen anybody with red lips except the Joker, and Starfire when she went crazy with that lipstick set Cyborg bought her for Christmas."
And let's face it; she kinda looked like the Joker…
"Well, okay," Raven relented. "But still, two out of three…"
"Sounds like Snow White was the original Goth," he remarked nonchalantly. "White skin, black hair..." He put his hands behind his head. "So I'm the "fairest in the land", huh?" He smirked to himself. "Sweet…"
"It's not so "sweet" for poor Snow White in… the-really-old-book-which-you-are-using-as-a-pillow…"
"Sorry…" Reaching back, he tugged it out from under his skull, handing it to her as she rolled off of him. "Why isn't it sweet? We only got up to the part where the Queen ordered the woodcutter to take her into the forest and kill her…"
"Read on and you'll see," Raven replied sweetly.
"Why? Not such a happy ending, I'm guessing?"
"Afraid not, "Snow White"." She kissed him and pushed the book back into his hands. "Afraid not…"
Vain and jealous by nature, Queen Raven – for it was routine – stood at her magical mirror, just as she had done every day since she had acquired it many years back.
She herself was most astounding to gaze upon; long violet hair flowed down her back, her pale skin was firm and flawless, her eyes deep indigo pools of empty promise. A platinum crown adorned her brow, and she wore a full flowing gown of black silk and velvet, with a tight bodice amply fastened with corseting, and edged with lace and crimson trimming. A deep purple cloak – to match her hair – she wore at her shoulders, its length and width impressive as it trailed along several meters behind her as she glided throughout the lavish palace in which she dwelled. At her throat dwelled a necklace of platinum, rubies and diamonds, and at her ashma chakra she wore a glittering blood crimson jewel. Her large deep eyes were emphasized with immaculate kohl, her lips black too with a lipstick from a far-off land. Divine rich perfume scented her beyond all exoticness.
The fairest in the land.
Or so it seemed to her, anyway.
Today, just as she did every day that had gone before this, she stood before her mirror and asked the question;
"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall;
Who is the fairest one of all?"
Beautiful enchanted mirror. Blood red runes of Scath engraved around the edges. The glass itself showed no reflection when gazed into, as though perhaps every beholder was of vampiric nature, casting no reflection. Instead was an abyss of darkness, and enshroudment of black, an ambience of nightmarish matter that twisted and swirled upon itself, writhing like smoke beneath a liquid surface. And there, in the very center of this terrible backdrop, was an entity of pure evil.
Four blazing crimson eyes, accompanied by the deep, resonating voice the Queen knew only too well.
Whether he was her father or not in this fairytale world was another matter entirely.
His usual answer was in the affirmative, and the Queen would smile and nod and dismiss the entity for another day.
Today was one of those unusual days.
00000
She was not even sure why they called him Snow White. The description of the title fit him well enough, but all in all she thought "Snow White" to be a rather feminine nickname for a boy who was not even remotely effeminate.
Still, she had never liked him regardless of whatever they called him.
She leaned on the sill of her wide window, ducked behind on the heavy curtains, gazing balefully out at him as he fooled around in the sun in the courtyard, all by himself.
"Skin white as snow", they said. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. No mistaking that he was very pale; exquisitely so, for a male.
"Hair black as ebony", they whispered to each other. No doubt about that either; his hair was blacker than the darkest night, and shone as though he washed it in not water, but a mixture of molten diamonds and glass.
He was a little short, but he was slim and supple and strong. His clothes – most often velvets and silks of crimson and black – flattered him immensely; he had a perfect temperament – clever, determined, yet overtly kind and often nauseatingly sweet – and his eyes…
Perfect pools of deep delphinium, crystal blue. She could only take comfort from the fact that he insisted on wearing that ridiculous black and white mask, for reasons she had never bothered to pursue. She rarely spoke to him, remaining shut up in her lavish room for hours on end.
At first he had made an effort to befriend her, having been lonely after the death of Bruce Wayne, the late king. Having married him simply for the title she knew she would gain, the Queen may or may not have had something to do with his strange and sudden death that nobody could quite explain.
The prince – the heir to the throne – had never pursued the king's young wife before, but now with Bruce gone he had felt it his duty to be kind to her. The Queen, his senior by not very much, had quickly let him know her opinion of him, and had shot him down time and time again until finally the young prince had gotten the message and left the "grieving widow" to her own devices. Instead he had struck up friendships with one of the maids, a pretty red-haired young girl they called Starfire, and the green-skinned court jester (whom the Queen had never once laughed at) known as Beast Boy.
Again, it was something Queen Raven had never paid attention to. The prince seldom bothered her and she had never thought anything he did or said worthy of her interest.
Until now; when the Magic Mirror had suddenly declared him "the fairest one of all"
"Fairest one of all". It almost made her laugh. He was a boy; how could he be fairer than she? But she had stood and watched him all morning while waiting for her message to be delivered and replied to. He tended to practice something which she had heard him call "martial arts", which involved kicking trees and punching thin air a lot. She had watched him weave in and out of such practice all morning, admiring the graceful way in which he moved from kata to kata, punch to kick, watching him flip and leap and cartwheel and mildly chiding herself for not knowing that he was capable of all these incredible feats. Then her awe changed to jealousy as she watched maid after maid, butler after butler, chef after chef, all stop to compliment the prince. They clapped, ruffled his shining hair, laughed and affectionately called him "Snow White". The maids in particular giggled stupidly whenever he spoke to them, gazing intently at him with awe and wanting. The girl called Starfire even went so far as to plant a small kiss on his cheek.
The Queen loathed the attention he gained, the admiration and compliments that were hailed upon him. Whenever she left her quarters, nobody complimented her like that; they all stepped aside in fear and awe, quivering as she passed and their heartbeats not returning to normal until after she was safely gone.
Having been indifferent to the prince before, in that short space of time she grew to hate him so much that she could not get the deed she had already premeditated since hearing the mirror's words done soon enough.
Nobody would be "fairer" than she, in whichever context it was meant. He could not be considered more beautiful than her, no matter how devastatingly handsome he was, but perhaps the word "fair" took more than simply beauty into account these days…
Once again she would be the fairest.
And if dear "Snow White" stood in her way…
…Then "Snow White" would be dealt with.
Permanently.
00000
The Queen toyed absently with the small ornate wooden box in her lap for a second or two. She sat in her ornate chair in her room; the humble woodcutter, whom she had sent for the instant the mirror had uttered its traitorous words, knelt at her feet.
The man was an outcast himself, a half-human, half-technology hybrid; the technology itself was somehow beyond this time and realm, and his strength was inhuman. Most feared him although he was a kind-hearted individual who provided the village beyond the palace with most of its wood for fuel.
Such is human nature; to fear what it does not understand.
"Most humble woodcutter," the Queen drawled as he lifted his head, "I have an important assignment for you."
"Anything, my Queen," the woodcutter said hurriedly, bowing his head again. "Anything you ask, by your will it shall be done."
The Wicked Queen smiled.
"Excellent," she purred. "Excellent… You are aware of the prince who dwells here? The heir of the king?"
The woodcutter smiled warmly, thinking she meant the prince no ill.
"Snow White?"
"King Bruce introduced him to me as Robin before his, ah, unfortunate passing, but yes, whatever you call him."
"We call him Snow White, your majesty, for you see, his-"
"Silence!" The Queen snapped. The woodcutter ducked his head again, silent.
"Good…" Queen Raven settled back. "Tomorrow at dawn, woodcutter, you will take the prince deep into the woods, where no-one shall see, hear or find you. And there…" The Wicked Queen's violet eyes glittered terribly.
"…You will kill him."
The woodcutter gasped and leapt to his feet.
"Your highness, no!" He cried, aghast. "Not Snow White! Please, your majesty-"
"Be silent!" Queen Raven screamed, standing also. "You will kill the prince on my order, you fool, or you will face my wrath! You know the penalty for disobedience in my kingdom!"
The woodcutter opened his mouth to protest once again; then hung his head dejectedly.
"Yes, your majesty…"
"Good." The Queen handed him the small gothic wooden box. "But just to make sure… bring me back his heart in this box."
The woodcutter shivered and took the box, slipping it into a leather pouch at his belt.
The Wicked Queen's eyes fell on the sharp, shining axe at the woodcutter's belt.
"I wish for you to behead him," she whispered, her eyes glimmering. "Sever his head from his body and see how damned pretty he is then!"
The woodcutter winced as her voice rose to a shrill crescendo at the end of the hysterical statement.
"As you wish, my Queen."
Heavy-hearted, he left her quarters.
The Queen leaned back and smiled.
Soon she would be the fairest once again.
00000
Still with a heart of lead, the distraught woodcutter slowly followed the prince through the forest, one hand clutching tentatively at his axe. The prince himself darted ahead, ducking under low boughs and branches. The woodcutter was secretly hoping the boy would accidentally knock himself out on one; his being unconscious would make this whole unpleasant deed easier for him…
It had taken no persuasion to get the prince to come with him that morning; "Snow White" was friend to all, and trusting to the end.
Unfortunately it would be his undoing.
Besides, he knew the woodcutter; he had spoken to him often enough. He had even been the one to come up with a name for him; Cyborg. That was what the prince called him.
According to the boy, it was a word that had a similar meaning to "hybrid", only it sounded nicer. And cooler.
More like he had invented it. But he was a prince; who was going to tell him he was wrong?
"Come on, Cyborg!"
The woodcutter looked up as the prince waited and fell into step alongside him.
"Stop dragging your feet!"
"It's a long walk."
Snow White smiled.
"And you walk here every day, right? And cut lots of wood, and drag it all back to the village?"
"Right. It's a long walk."
"Cyborg" pushed ahead, leaving the nonplussed prince behind him, and drew his axe, hacking away a large chunk of branches and leaves. He entered an enclosed clearing, the grass dappled with specks of sunlight breaking through the canopy of green above. The air was warm and sweet here, smelling of the thick grass and flowers underfoot.
The prince ducked under the woodcutter's arm with a little cry of delighted laughter, dashing into the clearing. He leapt into a string of handsprings and cartwheels, going over and over until he landed on his back in a dizzy, giggling heap.
The woodcutter swallowed the lump forming in his throat with some difficulty and thumbed his axe.
It was just a matter of time now. Just had to wait until the little prince let his guard down.
Behead him. One swing. He needn't feel much. Just one swing. No big deal.
Right? Right. No big deal.
In the meantime…
"Would you like an apple, your highness?" "Cyborg" went to his belt and pulled out a crisp, shining red apple. He offered it out to the prince as he sat up again in interest.
"Sure…" Snow White got to his feet and went to the woodcutter, taking the apple. He sank his teeth into it, biting a huge chunk from its sweet flesh. Then he giggled, almost choked, and swallowed it with some difficulty.
"Your highness!" The woodcutter reached for him, then withdrew his hand; if the prince choked to death, then he would not need to kill him after all…
But Snow White recovered and continued to giggle.
"I was just thinking…" He smiled and the woodcutter's heart almost melted. "It would be kinda funny if you had poisoned this apple…"
The woodcutter blinked.
"I beg your pardon, your highness? Why would that amuse you in any way?"
The boy shrugged and took another bite, not seeming to care if it was "poisoned" or not.
"Maybe the Queen wants me dead or something," he said with his mouth full. "She ordered you to take me out here and make me eat a poisoned apple…" He looked skywards thoughtfully, still chewing his second mouthful slowly. "Sounds like some kind of fairytale…" he stated, swallowing. "Although you should probably put some little people in there somewhere…"
He walked away across the clearing, still munching his apple. The woodcutter watched him go, shaking.
If only the poor boy knew how right he was.
He watched him stop to inspect the twisted bark of a tree in curiosity. Even on a trek to the forest he was immaculate; his spiked ebony hair shone and his expensive clothes were neat and perfect. A crimson velvet tunic, sleeveless, was worn over a white silk shirt with long wide sleeves, nipped in again at the cuffs. The collar of the shirt poked out from the "v" neck of the tunic, not a single crease in it. The tunic itself fell to his mid-thighs, girdled at the waist by a wide black leather belt fastened with gold lacing. Beneath this was a pair of black skintight pants (the court jester called them tights, but that was because the court jester himself really did wear tights) and black leather boots with boltmetal buckles. Completing his attire was a silk cape, black on the outer surface, scarlet on the interior, fastened to his tunic by two shining sliver clasps at the shoulder seams.
And he liked wearing that mask.
He had his own crown but he had never once worn it, not even at his father's wedding to the current (wicked) queen.
The woodcutter watched as he crouched down, putting his half-eaten apple aside, and picked something up in both hands. He stood, cradling… something…
A tiny, weak squeaking sound.
A bird. He was saving a bird. A hurt one, or a baby one…
Snow White's back was turned; he could not see him. He could not see the axe.
The woodcutter took the axe from his belt and silently crossed the clearing. Still the prince did not turn. He was talking to the bird.
"Oh, you've hurt your wing… Shh, it'll be okay…"
"Cyborg" stepped on a tiny twig. The prince jumped and turned.
"Hey, Cyborg, look what I-"
His eyes widened as he saw the axe raised above the woodcutter's head.
"Cyborg-"
Tears welling in his one real eye, the woodcutter grasped the boy by the back of his head, roughly turned him and slammed him against the tree. He held him there with one hand as he began to struggle, drawing back the axe with the other.
His sights fixed on the smooth, milky-pale skin at the back of the prince's neck. A little line between his collar and his hair.
His face being driven into the hard, rough bark of the tree, Snow White struggled still.
He knew what the woodcutter was going to do.
"Cyborg!" He begged, choking, in tears. "Stop, please! No… don't—!"
"Forgive me, your highness…" The woodcutter whispered, tears streaming down his face too.
One swing.
Snow White screamed.
His cry was abruptly cut off.
The thud of the axe sinking into the tree echoed throughout the clearing and beyond.
Blood.
Everywhere.
Severed muscles. Arteries. Tendons. Veins. Bone.
Life.
The wounded creature fell from Snow White's lifeless hand.
It was not a baby bird at all.
It was a baby bat.
Taking the tiny creature and Snow White's heart, the woodcutter staggered from the clearing, his axe leaving a trail of blood from the macabre scene.
Nobody would be fairer than she.
00000
Queen Raven smiled, unable to resist another peek into the box.
Yes, there it was, in a pool of black congealing blood.
Snow White's foul heart.
But since she did not entirely trust that foolish woodcutter (filthy hybrid)…
"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall;
Who is the fairest of them all?"
And the four eyes blazed and the voice gave her the answer she wanted to hear;
"Your beauty is rivaled, O Queen,
By none that I have ever seen…"
The Wicked Queen smiled again, dismissing the entity.
The fairest in the land, indeed—
Raven sat up with a sudden gasp, clutching the sheets to her naked chest. She sat there for a few moments, breathing heavily, her eyes wide.
The shifting movement beside her stirred her from her shocked state; looking to her right, she saw Robin curled up underneath the covers, his back to her. He too was naked under the sheets.
Of course.
Becoming intimate with him like that was not unusual. She would often wake to find him nuzzled against her, still sound asleep.
That was not what bothered her.
That dream…
Of course it made sense, technically. That was exactly how the "alternate Snow White" went.
The woodcutter being obedient and beheading poor Snow White in the forest. It was one of the book's shorter tales.
Still…
Surely she did not wish Robin dead?…
She shook her head. Weird. One of her weirder dreams.
And Robin…
She leaned over him. His head, of course, was still perfectly well-attached to the rest of him.
Of course.
Breathing out again, Raven looked around her room, at the dozen or more mirrors.
Using her telekinesis, she turned them all to the wall.
That made her feel better.
She looked at Robin again. Asleep. He was pretty when he was asleep.
Reaching for the book still lying on the sheets, she flicked through it, suddenly curious…
Sleeping Beauty.
Raven smiled.
Yes, I am craaaazy…
Mwa ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaa…
Don't ask me where I got this idea. It just… appeared in my head and I wasn't even going to bother writing it down. But… I did.
Why did I put Robin as Snow White? Well, he is the closest Titan to fitting the physical description (apart from the fact that, yes, he is the Boy Wonder…) and status-wise, as Bruce Wayne's heir (which he really is), he is also the closest to being a "prince"… and Snow White was, of course, a princess! And… well, it just amused me… ;)
Research undertaken for this fic: Watching Disney's Snow White. Well, the first bit, anyway. I have not watched it for years, and to be very honest, it's never been one of my favourites. Argh, Snow White has such a high annoying voice… But some of the lines in here are actually taken from the movie; you get a cookie if you can figure out which ones. Apart from "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall…"; that doesn't count…
And the original fairytales… well, I don't know how the original Snow White went; I just made this up. However, Rapunzel and Sleeping Beauty – those are both true. That is how both of those stories went before the Grimm Brothers got hold of them… My Media Studies teacher told us one lesson for some really weird reason…
Also, I hope you enjoyed learning about the Chakra System. Once again, all true. I have a book somewhere which has two or three pages about the Chakra System in it, so I took the information out of it. So for anyone who ever wondered what a chakra was, or how many there were, or what they were all called, or what they stood for… now you know. Although it is Blackfire who points that out in Sisters, saying that she likes the gemstone on Raven's ajna chakra. Only useful thing the girl ever did… although I like Blackfire, I have to admit… :)
Anyway, another of my mad one-shots to add to my growing anthology, right up there with The Thing and Ultimately. Although I would have to that this one probably wins the Crazy Prize…
Review! Tell me I'm crazy!
Push the button; let me know…
Ugh, damn those Sugababes. Or Liberty X. Or whoever sang that song…
- Shakes fist -
- RobinRocks xXx