It always bothered me a little that after The Prophecy no one ever really dealt with the death of Raven's mother, Arella. Now, I realize that they never said it definitely, but Azarath was depicted as destroyed and the figure of Arella spoke entirely in past-tense. I assume Trigon destroyed the planet and her alone with it, at least in the show. The comic is an entirely different story. I made Arella's hair black in this story, because Arella was human, so I'll maintain that the purple hair and eyes was a demon quality. Hope everyone enjoys this story. I can't think of anything else to say in my authoress's notes.
Except that I don't own Teen Titans. But I do own the story. Go me.
Ebony night hid slimey, slippery rocks. The salty sea breeze permeated and refreshed her sorrowful soul, the mildly fishy smell of life stirring a cocktail of hope and irreparable brokenness within her. Picking her way carefully to the sandy beach, she wondered dimly what she was doing. Inside the Tower had felt like a grave—a stifling, airless coffin, trapping her with two strong arms into a destiny which revolted her. Images of the ruination she would cause flashed vividly through her mind, burning her with guilt and horror—and resignation. She shivered, remembering the strong grip of the one-eyed masked man, his hot breath whispering a scenario of destruction she could barely grasp. Unable to withstand it, she had fallen.
The wind picked up, shoving her roughly backward, causing her to stumble momentarily. Quick to react, she placed a hand on the ground to steady herself, the moist rock cooling her burning skin. Regaining her balance, she continued on her way, the shining stars watching her like patient parents.
Gold danced on short, flowing purple hair and found a home in forlorn amethyst eyes. The sun shone brightly outside, the cool spring breeze carrying with it the smell of flowers blooming. Outside, children played in the green grass, laughing and calling out to each other, occasionally quarreling over some rule or other in their games, throwing arms around others shoulders in comradery.
Skinny grey legs stretched out, the small blue-cloaked body resting heavily on the frame of the windowsill. The delicate-featured face was lifeless, except for the eyes that tracked the other children and the sunlit fire inside the centered chakra she bore on her forehead. She would never be permitted to experience the childhood others her age enjoyed; the chains of fate bound her to her window; never to play the game, always to watch from behind some barrier—physical or otherwise.
Longing tickled her heart. Why wasn't she like other children? How did they know she was 'evil?'? What really was evil anyway? Where was her mother? She knew her father was a bad man, but what of her mother? She knew only that her mother resided somewhere on Azarath. The sun warmed her face and bare legs, comforting her if only for a moment.
"Raven."
The smooth voice echoed in the sparsely furnished chamber. Raven turned her head swiftly in acknowledgement, recognizing immediately the smooth confidence of the closest woman to a mother she had ever known. "Yes, Mother Azar?"
"There is one here who wishes to see you, child," the white-robed woman stated coolly, but with an undertone of concern and gentleness.
She could not help her reaction. No one had ever been to see her! She leapt with youthful grace from her position in the window and bound excitedly over to Azar.
"Ra—"
CRACK A nearby glass of water burst within the clutches of a black mist, stopping the girl instantly in her tracks. The excitement vanished like water escaping the cup and falling by drops to the cold, wooden floor. Her face quickly became expressionless, her breathing controlled and deeper, slower. Purple hair fell around her face, hiding her eyes, the action an indication of the shame she felt. Timidly, she whispered, "I am sorry, Mother Azar."
The woman, with practiced control, resisted feeling pity. The child would only feel and consume the emotion coming from her, causing even more distress. As teacher to a student, she allowed, "It is alright, Raven. But you must be very careful what you feel. You must be in control at all times, for yourself, as well as for others."
Raven looked up at the woman. "Yes, Mother Azar. I will continue to work on it."
Azar resisted the urge to touch the child, to hug and comfort her. But alas, no such risks could be taken; not with this one. "I know, my child. Come, let me introduce you to your visitor."
After pulling off her boots, she enjoyed the gritty feeling of the wet sand squishing between her toes. With eyes well-adapted to seeing in the dark, she stared out at the sea and the waving white of the moonlight on the water. The rhythmic sounds of the ocean waves lapping at the shore soothed her. Oceanic abyss stretched before her in tranquility and she found herself longing to become a part of that abyss, to enter into it and be lulled into serenity and the blissful nothingness forever. As if in a trance, amethyst eyes veiled in a strange paradox of emotionless sadness—emptiness—she stepped forward into the water, feeling the waves brush her ankles, shins, knees. The lower half of her cloak absorbed, drank in the blood of the earth hungrily. She stopped, standing entranced knee-deep in the sea, the breeze gently caressing her hair, and began to feel unbidden and uncontrolled, the slow onset of grief.
No, she thought, squaring her shoulders. No, I must not feel. Even for this.
"Azar, why?" Raven lowered her head, and she asked the darkest night a question with no answer.
Green hair ruffled from the wind through an open window high in Titans Tower. A green teen was sprawled on his back, haphazardly entangled by blankets. The murmur of the outdoors drifted into his room, the soft sound of a voice causing pointed ears to wiggle. Groaning, he rolls over and moves a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. Groggy green orbs adjust quickly to the darkness, and thought finds its tired way into his conscious.
Was that a voice?
Untangling the blankets from around his torso, Beast Boy sits up in bed, supporting himself with his left arm, while running a hand through his short, disheveled hair to remove it from his face. He gives an emphatic yawn, before turning his head to look out.
The trillions of stars and half-moon greet him, his perspective from a room on a high floor. With a little effort to look down, he can see the ocean below, the rocks around the Tower shining in the pale moonlight. Doing a double-take, he makes out the shadowy outline of a figure in the water. He squinted. A cloak?
Raven?
She stood still, lost deep within her own thoughts, longing for a solution so simple as walking out into the water and exhausting herself. Eyes unseeing, she took a few steps further out into the bay, now waist-deep. Her breath caught harshly in her throat, choking her, choking a quickly concealed sob. Even as she took the actions, Raven knew she would never go through with it. There would be no point. Trigon's blood in her veins would not allow her to perish so easily. Her own mother, Arella, had attempted to end the life of her unborn child several times before being swept away to Azarath.
You always had the love of your people, Raven, even knowing what you would become.
"Mother…" she whispered, sadly.
"Raven?"
She stiffened instinctually at the sound of his voice. This was not a time she wanted to be confronted with jokes, though somewhere within her she understood it was his way of coping. She drew herself up to her full height, and raised her head, but remained silent, suddenly an imposing shadow looming in the night. A part of the darkness, she assumed the mental shield she always erected around other people, friend or no, though she found tonight it took greater effort.
He knew it was her. Beast Boy could intuitively feel the person before him withdraw into herself, could see the sudden return of pseudo-strength to the slim form. She had just clammed up on him, and all he had done was say her name. He withheld a sigh.
For a moment, neither spoke. Beast Boy stood, feet firmly planted in the sand, watching the back of Raven's dark figure stand firm against the regularly timed ocean waves. The cape blew heavily now in the breeze, and with his sensitive nose Beast Boy could detect a hint of lavender—the way Raven always smelled. Beast Boy began to become uncomfortable in the lengthening silence, and questioned again, "Raven? Are you okay? What're you doing out here in the middle of the night?"
She sighed then, answering without turning, "I am fine, Beast Boy. I just needed some air." She offered the latter as an entreaty demonstrating her sound-mindedness, hoping he would accept her explanation and go. Go far away from her, away from her and the inevitable pain she would bring.
There was a great deal of splashing behind her and a yelp. An instant later, the green changeling stood to her left side, also knee-deep in water. He scratched the back of his head absently, and grinned at her when she turned her head to see what he was doing. "Water's a little cold for a swim, don't you think, Rae?"
If she hadn't felt so clearly the emotions of what he was trying to do, Raven might have leveled him. As it was, she suddenly felt too exhausted—mentally and emotionally—to do much of anything but respond flatly, "Do not call me 'Rae.'"
He grinned even wider, if possible. He elbowed her gently, "Ya know, if it's too cold for ya, we can swim together naked for warmth?" Turning her body, she stood face to face with him for a moment, her face neutral, if not a little disgusted. Beast Boy winked. Raven closed her eyes and shook her head slightly in a dismissive gesture, before walking slowly to the shore. There is no solitude to be had around here, she thought with some irony.
Beast Boy hesitated a second. Raven had sat down on the beach, legs making an upside-down "V" to the ground, arms wrapped around them, chin on her knees. She looked as if she were trying to implode; disappear completely within herself. Something was wrong. Why wouldn't she just tell him? He supposed he knew about secrecy; he had a few secrets himself. But only when faced with others does one realize how painful secrets can be for all sides involved. Taking a seat beside her, he stretched his legs out and leaned back on his hands. This time the silence was more comfortable, and for a moment the pair sat enjoying the view.
For a while—neither knew how long—they sat companionably, each alone with their own thoughts. Beast Boy stole glances of Raven occasionally, noticing the moonlight playing with her purple hair and eyes. She looked unwaveringly at the stars in the sky, almost trance-like again, but unlike her usual trances, her eyes held a trace of watery sadness. He decided to wait her out.
She waited, alone in a spacious, elegant room with big windows. Had she not been received in this manner so many times before, she would have been put off by the richness. It reminded her of a medieval dining room with a modern twist; the wood antique, but the corners rounded and modern; a clear salute to the new while still paying homage to the old. Her back was to the door, and she stood with the sunlight in her raven hair, making her pale skin shine. The heat from the sun warmed her and heaving an anxious sigh, she smelled without surprise the scent of lavender and lilac in the air.
A creak—the door opened behind her. Arella—Angela Roth, as she had long ago (or so it seemed; another lifetime) been known on earth—felt her pulse quicken with excitement, and the blood flow to her cheeks. A smile threatened to pull at her lips, the happiness within her nearly bursting. But she withheld it, kept it in check, harshly pulled the chain to which her emotions were bound, like a dog suddenly stopped by the chain of its house.
"Arella," said Azar, causing the woman at the window to slowly turn. What Arella saw made her speechless—clearly the most beautiful child she had ever seen. Tragically beautiful. With all her heart she felt the urge to protect the girl before her, to sweep her into her arms and never let go, but Azar's commanding presence prevented any dreams from becoming reality.
"This is Raven. Raven, this is the guest I spoke of, Arella."
Raven, despite her previous excitement, now seemed a timid child. Her experiences with others had been minimal, and while she sensed no ill-will from the woman (Arella, was that the name?) before her, she was shy and somewhat curious as to the woman's purposes. Looking up at Azar for reassurance and receiving a slow nod of encouragement, Raven stepped forward to stand in front of Arella. The older woman smiled, and knelt before her. "Hello, Raven. I am Arella."
"I shall leave the two of you alone. You have much to discuss." Azar paused, cherishing the scene before her for a moment. She hoped it was a moment—a good one in a million awful ones to come—that the two would remember. Swiftly she walked to the door and opened it a crack, but hesitated, adding, "Arella, do not forget the rules." She waited until Arella gave a slight nod, and exited, leaving the duo to the business of family.
She didn't know what to think, to feel, so she did as she always did: she felt nothing. But it was a vicious cycle, and the numbness wished to retreat so guilt, sadness, longing, nostalgia, confusion, and anger could step to the front. There were so few memories to cling to, so few to seek solace in, so few to keep her alive. Raven stared into the abyss of black night speckled with stars and ocean teeming with life. Somewhere, she thought.
Silent and still, she remained impervious to the world around her, absorbed in her thoughts, reaching desperately for one good memory to cling to. But for now it evaded her, frustrated her, and she tried to reason to herself that she was upset—understandably so. Another part of her argued to control these emotions, and the warring halves clashed like fire and water. The latter won, and a single drop slipped silently down her cheek, absorbing into the arm of her shirt.
That was when the world came back to her. Sitting back a little, she moved a fingertip to the corner of her right eye, dabbing lightly, and was surprised to pull her finger back moist. Beast Boy noticed this action, and shifted slightly, watching her concernedly. His movement startled her, and she flinched almost unnoticeably, before she felt her cheeks grow hot. She'd forgotten about him, and distantly felt she should feel embarrassed. She didn't care. She rested her chin on her knees, curling into herself again, and stopped fighting the silent tears. Beast Boy watched nervously.
After a moment, Raven broke the silence. "Remember the story I told all of you today about where I was when the Titans were in the library?" It surprised her how normal her voice sounded.
"Yeah. You said you couldn't be down there, so you went to research things on your own." Beast Boy gave himself a point for being a good listener.
"I lied," something in her voice sounded bitter.
"Oh." He waited.
"I opened a portal to Azarath."
"You went home?" Two points for Beast Boy and his comprehension skills.
"Yes."
Patience, Gar, have patience. She's trying to open up here, he told himself. But still, he felt she could use a little push. "What'd you want to find?"
She thought a moment. "I don't know. Answers. Something I overlooked. Some way to stop this. A way to fight." She laughed bitterly at the irony of her own words—Azarath was a nation founded on pacifism. In her mind, she saw again the burning image of Azarath, a once beautiful dimension, torn and destroyed and burning and crumbled; the people all dead, and without a single fist lifted to fight…
She shook her head, and felt fresh tears rip themselves out of her eyes, spilling down her cheeks like dripping blood. She felt that, in some way, the blood of Azarath lay on her hands. You always had the love of your people, Raven. Even knowing what you would become /i . She bit her lip.
He knew the answer before he asked. "Did you find it?"
She shook her head again, never raising her eyes to meet his. She hadn't looked at him once since she'd begun talking, he realized. She just stared endlessly out to sea. "No. I did not find Azarath either."
"I don't get it," he tilted his head in confusion and furrowed his brow.
She wasn't frustrated with him for not understanding. She was being purposely vague. Wanting to tell him was easy, telling him was harder. Raven was delaying the inevitable, knowing his reaction to her would deepen her own response, making the reality slam into head-on her like a fifty-foot tsunami. In a moment of courage, she stated flatly, "Azarath was destroyed by Trigon."
She gave him a moment to recover, to shut his mouth. He started to speak, but no sound came out. Deciding it was best to get it all over with at once, she began to tell him what was really bothering her.
She stood before the older woman, trying to be brave even without Azar present. Raven warily eyed the woman kneeling in front of her, but the woman kept smiling and looking at her. Raven did not understand the look for she had never received it—adoration. Arella reached out a hand gracefully and touched Raven's hair, feeling it between her fingers, seeing herself reflected in the little girl. Raven was surprised by this even brief contact, and her eyes widened momentarily. Arella noticed, and cooed, "Do not be afraid of me, Raven. I would never hurt you."
Raven allowed herself to relax, and was pleased to see how happy this made the woman. "Why did you come to see me? Do I know you?"
Arella felt pain stab at her heart for a moment, the pain only a mother who has been separated from her child can feel. She said softly, kindly, affectionately, "No, Raven. But I know you. I have known you since you were born."
"Really?"
"Yes, really," she responded gently.
Raven stopped a moment, then asked, "Was I spawned?"
Arella was taken aback and frowned with sadness and concern at the child's blatant question. "Why do you ask?"
"The other children sometimes yell 'demon-spawn' at me when they pass me in the hallway. I asked Mother Azar (Arella flinched again at Raven's use of mother) about it but she will not tell me." Raven's eyes pleaded.
Sighing, regretting the cruelness of children and the world, she explained, "No, Raven. You were not spawned. You were born just like any other child."
Raven looked relieved, but still dubious, not trusting the word of a stranger. "How do you know? Do you know for sure?"
"Yes. I can assure you."
"How do you know?"
Arella caught the girl's eyes, so much like her own. "Because Raven…I am your mother."
She saw Arella, standing there, the last time she'd ever see her. Real or not, Raven felt in her heart that the message her mother had left had been real. She heard herself telling the story of her journey to Azarath—the portal being closed, Azarath being empty, the conversation with her mother, the remnants of the great civilization. When she was done, she was silent for a moment. She tried to keep her voice from cracking, the sobs from escaping, but putting the reality into words was harder than she imagined.
"My mother is dead, Beast Boy."
Raven dropped her head into the space created by her arms, and took a deep breath, trying to quell her sobs. Beast Boy was quick to react, and had engulfed her in a hug almost before she knew it. Her shoulders shook, and she cried. Beast Boy marveled that Raven even sobbed almost silently. All he could hear from her were gasps as she took in air, and he felt her body shake. He felt her move her arms around him in a hug, and felt her bury her face in his shoulder. Raven felt the comfort he offered her, felt his emotions and consumed them hungrily, and cried. Cried for Azarath, cried for her mother, cried for herself, cried for the Titans, and cried for the world.
She was shocked to say the least. That she had a mother other than Azar had never really occurred to her. The woman before her did look vaguely like her; she could see it now. But the hair was black, but the eyes were the same as her own indigo. Raven did not know what to do, but she felt herself beginning to cry.
Arella knew what it was like to be alone, to feel unloved. She knew the dangers; Azar had no problem setting rules—no touching, keep emotions to a minimum. Rules be damned. Moving slowly, she got out of her chair and knelt again before the little girl in the chair, but this time she wrapped her arms around the little girl. Raven stiffened, but relaxed just as quickly, and returned her mother's embrace.
Mother held child for the first time since birth, and the reunion was a happy one. Raven felt a taste of another human being's emotion for the first time that day. And as the powerful sense of love washed over her, Raven felt herself for the first time daring to hope.
That was my one-shot. Quite a long one, if I do say myself. Reviews would be greatly appreciated.