T H E . S O L D I E R . a n d . T H E . S O R C E R E S S

a chaptered story by insensato

disclaimer: teen titans will never be mine for the taking

new story. it's going to be set in like a historical period but i am really bad at like writing dialogues in like a historical way, so an advanced sorry for any like modern terms or stuff. i tried, i really did. oh yeah i made beast boy a lot younger than the other characters cuz it's just really hard for me to figure out how to characterize him so i figured he'd make a better little kid hehe.


Richard Grayson was a soldier first, and prince second, to the dismay of his adopted parents, King Bruce and Queen Diana, but not to his adoring bevy of prepubescent girls. Think about it, who in their right mind would prefer to be on the front lines in the battlefield rather than ensconced safely within the sturdy walls of their fortress? Despite the King and Queen's somewhat unfounded worries--the prince was a powerful and cunning fighter on the fields--Richard's choice to be fighting alongside his men had the girls swooning over his courage and built physique.

Whenever the King or Queen were in need of their son, they needed only to seek out Richard's adoring fans who could be seen and heard from miles away. In the summers, it was especially easy to find the prince. All they had to do was listen for high-pitched giggles and collective moans and breathy sighs.

Most of the time, the girls would be flocked around the newly-erected fence which had been built specifically to deter them from coming too close, watching their beloved train, often with his shirt off. This gave them a delicious opportunity to see how well-built their love interest was, to see how his muscles worked seamlessly beneath his perfect tanned skin. His chest would quiver with exhaustion, and the nearest girls could even see the beads of sweat collect on his hairless torso. Needless to say, Richard was a fine specimen of the male physique at its best.

Fortunately for Richard's close friends and his adopted parents, all the attention had not gone to his head. He remained the same down-to-earth person he was: brave, considerate and well-grounded. If he changed, they wouldn't have known what to do with a pretty-boy who was more concerned with primping than pumping iron.

"Prince Richard!" A ten-year-old boy called out as he scurried towards the prince. He was somewhat small for his age and lean, with a messy top of light brown hair and mischievous emerald eyes. When he wasn't on duty as a page of sorts for the prince, he was often busy engineering pranks to pull on the people he knew. Initially they would be enraged, then embarassed, and then finally laugh alongside him at their own silliness to fall for such a joke.

Richard looked up and smiled when he saw the little boy. "What is it Garfield?"

"Sirs Victor and Roy have need of ye," Garfield answered, his eyes respectfully directed down to the stone floors. "They be a'waiting in the tactical room."

The twenty-year-old prince nodded. "Many thanks Garfield."

Garfield ran off and Richard made his way to the tactical room. The heavy wooden door was slightly ajar, and he could hear voices arguing heatedly. The prince stepped in and the conversation stopped.

"Don't," Richard immediately said and was surprised when Victor Stone and Roy Harper, his two most trusted men, didn't do their customary exchange of smirks. They liked to annoy him every now and then by bowing and calling him exaggerated exalted names. But now, they weren't. Instead they had troubled looks on their faces. "What's the news?"

Victor straightened. He was a tall brawny man and just as well-built as the prince. His skin was dark like wood, and his voice was gravelly and low. A lot of people found him menacing due to his burly figure, but the prince's second man was really a fun-lover who could be found in the kitchens, for he liked to cook. "We have reports regarding Trigon the Terrible."

Trigon the Terrible was a vicious, coldhearted king who ruled over Azarath, a desolate mountainous realm to the north. He killed anybody and everybody who interfered or irritated him. It was even reputed that he had a network of torture camps established throughout his kingdom for the poor souls who remained.

Roy nodded sharply. He was similar in build and height to the prince, but he had a shock of red hair and unlike the prince's steel blue eyes, Roy had aquamarine eyes. He was Richard's third man. "It's said that he's building an army to wage an attack against our kingdom and our allies as well. I believe he's planning conquest."

Richard sucked in his breath. "There will be a war then." Months' worth of mounting rumors and suspicions would finally culminate in a massive war. Bloodshed. Death.

"It looks to be that way," Roy said gravely. "However I have heard that he has weakened considerably over the years. There have been constant rebellions throughout the villages, and though countless lives were lost, his power is eroding thanks to their efforts."

"You have only heard. These rumors will do no good," Richard shook his head, staring down at the map. Azarath was a good eight days' worth of hard riding, through swamps and empty meadows. It would be difficult to hide in case of ambush.

"It would not be wise to sit back in earnest for their arrival," pointed out Victor, as he traced the path with a rod.

"But it will be hard on both the men and the horses to make an expedited journey into Azarath. We do not have the reinforcements or the supplies to strike first."

Victor nodded slowly. "Who would fight for such a demon? It is common knowledge that Gotham is by far the strongest and largest kingdom. No other realm would be foolhardy enough to ally themselves with Trigon."

"Tamaran, Jump, and Bludhaven are our allies through engagements or treaties. Would they be willing to aid us by sending troops?" Richard asked, gazing over the map.

"We do not know but we will send out messengers."

"Good. Let us see what we can come up with before we make further decisions," the prince decided.

Roy rolled up the map and began putting away the other papers. "Then this meeting is adjourned?"

Richard nodded. "Victor, have the messengers leave tonight."

"I will alert them now," Victor said and left.

"What do you think will happen?" Roy questioned. "Do you really think that there will be a war?" He thought of his engaged, Kor'iander of Tamaran, and sighed. They had only been betrothed for a brief two months, and the possibility of a war with Azarath soon in the future did not bode well.

"Do not worry Roy," Richard said firmly, knowing that the man was concerned about his engagement. "I am sure things will work out."

"I hope so." Roy said quietly, his face blank. "I hope so."


Raven was both furious and annoyed as she listened to Trigon drone on and on. Her father was once again gloating about how he would crush the pitiful forces of Gotham and then conquer the remaining kingdoms, who without Gotham, would fall like flies.

Despite what people believed, she was not in any remote way, like Trigon. She was the spitting image of her mother, if not a bit paler. She did not have a thirst for blood or torture or pain, her father's passions. All she wanted to do was learn, and she often holed herself up in the libraries to read, far away from her imperious and malicious father. Unfortunately, she was guilty by association and often the target of slurs and threats.

She wished for her mother, but Arella had died long ago from the injuries inflicted upon her by Trigon's repeated abuse. One day he took it too far, and killed her, her head thrown back at a sharp angle, blood pooling around her still body. Raven could still remember her father calling for her to come, knowing how fond she was of her mother. When she saw the bloodied, mangled body of her mother, she fainted. She had been only five.

Now Raven was thirteen years older, but every night she still had the same gruesome nightmares. They continued to haunt her relentlessly, so that she could never really have a moment to herself in peace. They made her feel worthless, pathetic. How could she not try to help her mother? If she hadn't fainted perhaps her mother would've had a chance to survive if she received the necessary help quickly enough.

"Daughter, what do you think?" King Trigon sneered, interrupting her out of her boredom-induced reverie. His unruly white hair had ben pulled back, and the sumptuous black robes he wore did little to enhance his red-tinged skin. His beady black eyes bore into her overwhelmingly. "Have you lost your tongue wench?"

She glared at him, sick of his arrogance, his cruelty, sick of everything. To hell with it, she didn't care anymore. She had nothing to lose. "To be honest, I think you are an idiot." She said coolly, forcing herself to meet his gaze, to show that she didn't fear him anymore. Titters and gasps broke throughout the court.

With a roar of fury, the demon king rose from his throne and savagely backhanded her so that she flew out of her seat. "That will teach you to speak so impudently again, ungrateful bitch! Just like your whore of a mother." He added with a vicious smile, towering over her prone figure.

Raven forced herself up and wiped away the blood that dribbled from her lip with a sleeve. She smoothed back the purple strands that had fallen out of her bun. She would not be seen as weak and vulnerable anymore. Staring coldly at him, she said, "I am only giving voice to what everyone else is thinking." With that she stormed off, knowing he would not go after her. He had to save face after all.

Once she had left the throne room, she ran to her quarters to cry for her long-dead mother, for a better life filled with joy and love. But it would never come. She was doomed to this castle of death, for better or worse.

Her fate was inescapable.


so what did you all think... was it good, bad?
and don't worry, i will be updating clash of wills in a few days.