As usual, my own prejudices were the Titans are concerned came to the fore, and it turned into a Robin/Raven type fic. I just honestly think those two were meant for each other, despite evidence to the contrary.
Oh well.
I was wondering if there are any good Robin/Starfire fics out there. In fairness to the genre, I looked around to see how the other side of the shippers live, and I found a crapload of AU, Kori is a rich girl/highschool kid/single mother, Richard is a Rich boy/bad boy/businessman type fics, and that's not really what I like to read. Does anybody know of any GOOD Robin x Starfire fics? I haven't really read any, but I know they must be out there.
I'm not so biased that I wouldn't enjoy reading such a fic, but I have yet to find one that I can really sink my teeth into.
Anyway, enough bullshitting. On with the show.
"Is it true what they say. Are we too blind to find a way? Fear of the unknown cloud our hearts today. Come into my world, see through my eyes. Try to understand, don't want to lose what we have. We've been dreaming, but who can deny. It's the best way of living, between the truth and the lies. See who I am, break through the surface. Reach for my hand, let's show them that we can. Free our minds and find a way, the world is in our hands. This is not the end." -See Who I am, Within Temptation
He knew it was the Witch's Forest long before he had penetrated to the heart of it. It might have been the gossamer strands of spider silk ever so delicately dusted over the ominious looking trees, or perhaps the way a cold wind crept through the boughs and bushes despite the late summer heat.
The big clue though, the one that you would have had to have been utterly clueless to ignore, was the rotted wooden sign that said, "Witch's Forest, Enter Ye at Thine Own Peril".
Well, that and the rusted and empty suits of armor scattered about the path that lead a twisting way into the forest.
Of course his map SAID that this was the Witch's Forest, but his map said alot of things. It also said that the Witch's Forest was impenetrable and that no man could enter.
Admittedly, it was a remarkably expressive map.
A snort caught his attention and he found his view changing, spinning around to face the road they had just left.
"Alright, I've seen enough. Creepy spider infested forests with empty suits of armor scattered about warning us of our impending doom is where I draw the line. Admittedly it's a very fine line, but it has officially been crossed. Thank you for playing, good night."
He looked down at the dark green mane and the expressive light green ears that perked every which way searching for sounds of danger, and tugged on the reins.
"Garfield, stop that this instant, you know that we have been tasked with this by the King himself-"
"Yeah, but in case you hadn't noticed, you weren't exactly on the top of the list of people voted most likely to succeed in ending the Evil Witch's Reign of Terror at the going away party."
Robin paused. "I thought I looked remarkably good in black. The eulogy was a nice touch."
"Robin, this is a Baaad Idea. I mean, I want fortune and glory as much as the next enchanted horse, but I don't want to lose my skin doing it. I like my skin. It's very comfortable."
Robin scowled. "So in other words you want all the benefits of a dangerous quest completed with none of the associated perils, is that it?"
Garfield stopped and rolled one equine eye up at Robin. "I admit it's not the most noble or even particularly realistic goal, but a guy can dream, can't he?"
Robin sighed and shook his head. After a short moment of consideration he hopped lightly down from the emerald horse and resolutely marched towards the path.
"Robin what are you doing?" The horse called out after him.
Robin didn't turn as he marched forward, though he wasn't marching particularly fast.
"I'm discharging my sworn duty as a Knight of Gotham." He paused. "You know, that place we swore an oath of loyalty to and who, by the way, pays our salary?"
The horse trailed after him with as irate an expression as a horse can manage. "Ok first off, you aren't a Knight yet, you don't even have any armor, not to mention a shield crest. Second of all, I might add, YOU swore an oath of loyalty, I don't recall ever doing anything that honorably stupid myself. Lastly, the last time I checked, I don't draw a paycheck... so that about blows your argument out of the water."
Robin stopped in front of the path into the forest and crossed his arms, never looking at the mount behind him. "I wasn't aware we were having an argument... you say you don't want to go in there, I'm not forcing you to. Wait here. I'll be back in... a while."
"See that's where you're wrong, Robin... I said I don't want US to go in there. As in more than one... you and I... plural."
With a squaring of his shoulders and a deep breath to settle himself, Robin marched resolutely into the forest.
The horse behind him sighed, hesitated for a moment, then followed him. "I hate it when you get like this."
He could hear the grin in Robin's voice as he continued forward. "When have I ever been any different?"
The horse glared at him. "My point exactly."
Almost immediately the forest cut off any light from the high noon sun, a cold, dank sort of mist crept in obscuring all detail about the path they walked. Robin had to squint hard to make out the very faint markings of the trail, his face a mask of concentration.
Which was suddenly broken by a clanging noise immediately behind him. He stopped and rounded on the culprit slowly.
"Ouch! Dang it, who leaves this stuff just lying around, you know?"
Robin looked down at the suit of armor his mount had stumbled over. He shook his head. Garfield had to be about the most uncoordinated warhorse he knew of.
The greenest and most talkative as well, but some things went without saying.
At least if you wanted to avoid an earful.
Robin bent down closer and inspected some minute detail of the armor.
"Sir Ambrose... didn't he leave last winter?"
"Hey yeah... I remember the minstrels were all buzzing about that... Great Sir Ambrose the Dragon Slayer marching forth to do great deeds, to end the Evil Witch's something something dum da dum dum rhymes with deeds." He paused. "Not the catchiest tune in the world, was it? Of course by then I imagine they were kinda running low on inspiration."
He sniffed the armor and sneezed, shaking his head as though clearing a cobweb from it.
"So this is how ol' Ambrose ended up, huh? Poor bastard."
Robin frowned and inspected the armor more carefully. "No signs of battle, not a scuff on it... how could someone with a reputation for slaying dragons be dealt with so definitively? There's something going on here."
The horse snorted again. "Heellllo! Evil Witch? Daughter to the Terrible Sorceror Trigon, Master of the Nine Hells? Prophecized Bringer of the End of All Things? Mistress of Dark Powers the World Was Not Meant to Know? She probably fried him right out of his armor like one of those lobster what-sis the dockhands are always yammering about. Sans butter of course." He shivered. "Or maybe... not sans butter... ewww."
Robin put his hands on his hips. "I'm just saying, I find it a bit odd... I mean, no sign of a body, no struggle... nothing. You'd think a Knight with Ambrose's exprience could put up a bit more of a-"
He stopped.
Garfield flattened his ears. "What? What is it?"
A cold, whispery sort of voice took a sighing breath and then whispered.
"Get. Ouuuut."
Horse and man paled and looked at one another. The horse nodded.
"Good advice. I'm outie. See you on the flip side, buddy."
"Garfield..." Robin hissed, but the horse had already retreated into the mists from whence they had come. He was suddenly very alone.
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
"I said, get out... there is nothing for you here." The voice seemed to come from every direction at once, and none of them. He turned slowly, looking for the source of the noise.
"I am Sir Robin of Gotham, charged with ending the Reign of the Evil Witch of the Cursed Wood... I will not leave until I have seen out my sworn duty."
A long silence, then what sounded like a disbelieving snort. "If you're a knight where is your armor?"
He sighed. "I couldn't afford any... but I have my colors, red and green! They are armor enough."
The voice sounded skeptical. "Your shield and sword?"
He winced. "Ermm... Again, very expensive stuff. Never really had much of a use for an overgrown steak knife anyway." He extended his magical quarterstaff and spun it in a flourish, bringing it up into a ready position under one arm with his other arm outstretched.
"This is more my style."
The voice paused.
"Mount?" It said, a trifle dryly, Robin thought.
He rolled his eyes. "Probably about half way back to Gotham by now... look... I'll admit, I'm not exactly a Knight, per say, but I AM a very determined amateur... and I'm not leaving until you face me!"
When it replied, the voice sounded very tired... almost, if he didn't know any better, sad. "Go home boy... I have no desire to end your human existence."
"Awfully full of yourself, aren't you?" Robin asked pointedly, somewhat annoyed at the disembodied voice's tone.
The voice said nothing at all. Robin sensed that he was no longer being watched.
He sighed. "It's never easy, damn it." His eyes tried to penetrate the gloom to no avail. He supposed he should feel pretty special... from the apparent lack of empty, rusted armor and the complete lack of spiderwebs and such, he had the feeling he had penetrated farther than any other Knight thus far.
Which was, of course, horribly depressing, considering that he wasn't even really a Knight. Not yet, anyway.
He reached into his belt pouch and removed a small dark grey metal bar with a string attached to it. Robin was an inventive, curious sort, and he didn't let the fact that he could barely see objects five feet away get him down. He'd discovered a strange property of the curious metal the alchemists called Lodestone. When suspended, it invariably pointed North. Some days, he considered traveling far to the North to discover what the Lodestone might be pointing at, but when such flights of fancy had left him, he usually just used it to gain a point of reference when conferring with maps.
He let the Lodestone dangle, watching as it spun curiously to what he THOUGHT was the east.
He mused this over for a moment.
"Let's see... the forest's center should be to the east, but if what I think is east is actually north, then I would have been headed south, and out of the forest entirely. He oriented toward the east in reference to his Lodestone. It felt WRONG to his sense of direction, but this was a witch he was dealing with.
He started out.
As he walked his feet seemed to find a well tended path. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he was wandering down a nice little foot path that had been put up through a garden. Various medicinal and useful herbs greeted him on each side, most of them, he noted, could be brewed into different types of tea.
"A witch with a tea fetish?" He wondered out loud to himself. He shrugged. Stranger things, he guessed. Just look at Sir Percy. If the rumors were true, he liked to dress up in women's clothing. Sir Percy always was a bit... odd.
His sense of direction was telling him he was now headed North, but his Lodestone hadn't wavvered. He continued to push his way through the gloom.
It suddenly ended as though he'd walked through a curtain. He gaped, staring at the oddest little house he'd ever seen.
For one thing, he had to gape upwards to see it. It was suspended thirty feet up in a tree. It almost seemed as though the house had been built around the tree, which seemed an odd and quaint practice to Robin. He'd heard of building things OUT of trees, but never around them before. He cleared his throat.
"Witch of the Wood! Come out and-"
A tired, feminine voice interrupted him. "You again? I thought I told you to..." It paused.
"Hey... how did you find your way in HERE?"
He blinked. "Er... I defeated your foul sorcery and-"
"Right. I suppose that magnet you've got there has nothing to do with it. Very clever, but not the best compass I've ever seen. The Nihongo build much nicer ones."
He blinked. Magnet? Nihongo? Probably some sorcerous incantation. Still, the word compass... that had a nice ring to it. He might have to remember that one.
"Look, you aren't being very accomidating here. I mean, you've killed all the other Knights who came here, but you don't even have the decency to face me..."
The voice turned chilly and dangerous. "Listen here, Knightling. First of all, I didn't ASK anyone to come here, they just keep coming, completely uninvited, I might add. Second, what do you propose I do when some idiot in metal long johns comes bellowing at me swinging an overgrown butcher knife, hmm? Thirdly, I've never killed anyone in my life, though you might manage to make me change that policy if you keep poking your nose where it isn't wanted. Lastly..."
A shadowy figure emerged from the house in the tree, a diminutive, slender figure completely shrouded in a deep blue cloak. Robin's mouth dropped open in surprise.
"I'm facing you now. That doesn't mean I'm going down there."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly what I was expecting."
The figure crossed its arms and cocked its head slightly to the left. He got the distinct impression it was annoyed.
"Really? What were you expecting, some old toothless crone?"
He shook his head. "Well no... but I was kind of expecting you to be well... taller."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you. Now please leave before I have to do something you'll regret."
Robin frowned. "You're being awfully passive for a vicious witch. Why are you treating me differently from the other Knights you slaughtered?"
The figure sighed and shook her head. "Listen, you strike me as a reasonably intelligent human being, at least for a would be Knight. Let me ask you a question. Let's say all you want to do is be left alone. Let's say you leave civilization, or at least what passes for civilization in this blasted country, so that you can be left alone, and not bother anyone with your presence. Now let's say these fanatical, completely unreasonable, highly dangerous men in full platemail come barging into your home for no reason other than the fact that your father is a despicable worm of a former human being. What would you do, in that situation?"
He frowned. "I wouldn't kill them... but I can see where that would put a body in an unpleasant position."
She snorted. "Then you understand my position. I can't kill them, but they're dead set on killing me. I'd never intentionally hurt a fly."
He shook his head. "So what you're saying is, you aren't dangerous?"
She sighed. It was a deep, regretful sigh. "I didn't say that. Of course I'm dangerous, that's why I moved out here. So I couldn't hurt anybody. Of course if someone starts attacking me, it tends to make me tense, and when I get tense, I get... destructive."
He blinked. "So... what happened to all the other Knights?"
"I changed them into something harmless."
His eyes widened. "You what?"
She shrugged. "Well, some of them are deer... that last one, I think he said his name was Sir Ambrose, he made a lovely rabbit. I think there's a sparrow or two..."
He gasped. "But that's... that's..."
She turned around, and her voice was cold and ominous. "I don't have to explain myself to you, you have violated my sanctuary, and face me as an uninvited guest meaning me harm in my very home. No matter how backwards Gotham is, it should still recognize politeness and good manners." She paused. "Or perhaps Chivalry has a different meaning when following its tenets becomes inconvenient."
She retreated back into the depths of her home. "Regardless, the choice is yours. Leave now, or stay and face the consequences of your actions. I'm through talking to you."
He blinked quietly, his mouth open in an expression of shock and dismay. For a moment he considered forcing his way into the tree, but reality along with the better part of valor stayed his hand. He really couldn't see any natural means to get into the tree house, and he didn't particularly want to be caught dangling helplessly from a rope by the witch, who was obviously not an idiot. Working through his indignation, he slowly came to a rather distressing conclusion.
She was right.
He sighed, then set about making himself comfortable. It was going to be a long night.
He was in the process of slicing the skin off an apple when a sly voice nearly made him jump out of his skin. He suppressed the natural reaction adeptly, since he'd never give Garfield the satisfaction of seeing him jump.
"Hey buddy, mind sharing that apple with a tired old friend?"
Robin continued peeling the skin off the apple and raised an eyebrow at the talking horse, his deft hands never straying from their appointed task even though he was no longer watching them.
"Amazing how whenever the prospect of food presents itself you somehow manage to grow a spine."
The horse looked offended and more than a little hurt. "Hey! That's uncalled for! I admit, the whole spooky-doom-voice threw me for a loop, but I came back, right? Actually, I tried to come back a right after I left, but I got lost. You wouldn't BELIEVE how thick the fog is around here. If I hadn't run into that rabbit, I don't think I'd have ever found this place."
Robin blinked. "The what?"
"Rabbit man, you know? Fluffy bunny with the cute widdle nose and the cotton tail? Little known fact is, the things are practically little more than hopping stomachs with an overgrown libido, so when I saw that little furball moving in a determined fashion I figured at the least he'd either lead me to food or another rabbit, and damned if I didn't come across just the cutest little garden with a lovely little footpath with the shrubberies set just so, and-"
Robin made a face. "Nevermind, I get the picture. That was probably Sir Ambrose, by the way. Apparently all the Knights who have come before us got the transmograficational whammy laid on 'em."
Garfield shook his head, making his mane shiver. "Dude, that's rough. Well at least they aren't dead, right? The King's wisemen can sort 'em out soon enough." He looked around. "So... where's the crone, huh? Was she tough? Did she bite? You know they say those old biddies can put up a helluva a fight when you get 'em cornered."
"You might want to keep your voice down, Gar. She's still alive, and probably within earshot." Robin finished his skinning of the apple and proceeded to carve it into fourths.
The apples in the audience turn away in disgust and horror.
"What! You mean she's still alive and kicking? What happened, man!"
Robin made a face. "Well, aside from the obvious fact that she's a little difficult to reach..." He pointed the knife at the tree house which Garfield only just noticed. He whistled.
"She's not exactly what I was led to expect. I mean, when all those Knights one after another failed to come back after all the terrible things they had faced before, she sort of became like a demon to me. I've had nightmares about facing her, about what it would be like. I was steeling myself for the confrontation of a lifetime, and she turned out to be remarkably... well..."
The horse watched him skeptically. "Yeah?"
"Reasonable." He said finally. "I mean really, why WERE all of those Knights sent to kill her? Here she is, out in the middle of nowhere, not bothering anybody, when a horde of righteous warriors descend on her with the intention of grievous bodily harm... it just doesn't seem fair to me."
Garfield sighed deeply, collapsing onto his equine side and vigerously rubbing his flank in the dirt. Robin wrinkled his nose at the antic.
"Oh come off it, you try scratching them hard to reach places when you ain't got hands. Ahhh man, I've been wanting to do that for an hour now. Anyway, are you nucking futs? There are like, a billion prophecies about how this broad is gonna END the world, and her father turned Azarath into a smoking, glowing crater."
"Don't you listen to the bedtime stories, man? Supposedly he teaches her everything she knows about the Dark Arts, and she knocks over dear old dad to start her own evil empire. Only get this, the bastard is SO FRIGGIN' EVIL, Hell kicks him out, and now he's some kind of terrible necromantic beastie who never ventures out of the aforementioned glowing crater, gathering all manner of terrible creatures to his beck and call. If that's not a sterling example of great reasons to bring someone to justice, what the heck is?"
Robin sighed. "Yeah yeah, I know all the stories. I was there when the king called all his councelors into session when she just decided to move into the woods right at the edge of our borders. The thing is, who WRITES these prophecies, really? I mean, our Seer is a man who only bathes if he happens to get caught out in the rain, and who once spent an entire evening talking to a FERN, and it wasn't even a living fern! Does that strike you as someone who can be relied upon to accurately predict the future?"
He paused.
"Look, I'm not saying I want to marry her for crying out loud. I'm just saying it's obvious the offensive approach isn't working, so maybe we need to be a bit diplomatic about this."
The horse snorted and rolled over to his other flank. "Right, Pardon me miss Evil Witch, would you mind terribly coming with us back to Gotham, so that you can be tried and convicted of Witchcraft? I've heard that stakes are all the rage, these days. Of course you have to stay away from open flames and all, but... oh silly me, did I drop that torch? Oh fiddlesticks, how clumsy of me."
Robin snorted, and managed to look indignant. Barely. "Stop it. All I'm saying is, maybe it's possible this is all just a big misunderstanding. I am honor bound to bring her back to Gotham dead or alive, and so that's what I'm going to do, but no one ever said that she had to be in chains or anything. If she comes of her own free will to talk it out with the King, maybe we can solve this without bloodshed. Now quit rolling around and hold still so I can get my stuff off of you, before you crush it any worse than you already have. This promises to be a long wait."
He had just barely settled in for the evening when he got the distinct impression he was being watched.
Garfield, as was his typical practice, had fallen into a light doze standing up, his knees locked to prevent him from falling over. In this stage of sleep he had developed a strange, whistling sort of snore, which Robin had grown so used to it no longer had any conscious effect on him.
His small, well tended fire popped and hissed merrily, several large tubers dug up around the forest cooking merrily. Normally Robin would intersperse a bit of meat from some luckless fowl or small animal he had caught during the day, but the thought of accidentally consuming any of his comrades in arms turned his stomach severely.
Fortunately, like many individuals used to living outdoors for long periods of time, he had gotten used to foraging for himself, and while not the choicest form of sustenance, the tubers tasted quite good when properly cooked.
He was in the process of turning each of the 6 inch tubers when he felt eyes upon him.
After a momentary glance upward, he continued with his routine, ignoring the figure above watching him quietly.
"Do you feel some pressing need to be a ground squirrel?" A voice asked him dryly, with, he imagined he could detect, more than a hint of irritation present.
He brushed his hands together and straightened, looking up the cloaked figure with a quiet nod of greeting.
"Not particularly. I've always fancied myself a hunting bird of some sort, but I suppose being a ground squirrel would have its own benefits."
She crossed her arms. "You really should have taken me seriously. I told you-"
"I'm sorry." He said simply.
Again, a whisper of something other than cold disdain, a hint of confusion. "What?"
He smiled quietly. "Oh, forgive me, I should do this the right way." He doffed his large green hat with it's plumbed red feather (it had a habit of shading his eyes) and knelt, his eyes focusing on the dirt in front of him.
"My intrusion unto thy grounds was uncalled for, milady. I have most rudely entered thine abode without thy permission, and would beg thine forgiveness."
She snorted. "Your courtly speech sucks."
He shrugged. "It's been a while, but for what it's worth, I was being sincere. I am sorry I barged into your household like this. It was rather rude of me."
She sighed, exasperated. "The best way you could apologize for barging in is leaving... but I get the feeling that isn't going to happen, is it?"
He smiled apologetically. "I can't. Rude or not, I have been charged by the King to bring you to justice. Upon my honor, I can't just leave."
She turned slightly, showing her profile. Though the deep hooded cloak still hid her countenance from his view, the light from the fire flickering on the eyes and something else, high on her forehead. He blinked.
-A diadem or crown of some sort? She doesn't strike me as the type. I must have just been seeing things.-
She laughed, a trifle bitterly. "Honor. Justice. Words, Knightling. They mean nothing to men of power, but a vehicle for getting their way and appearing noble as they do so. I have had my fill of honor, and I will find no justice with your King."
"They aren't just words." He said flatly. "Honor is a code by which I live by. I have tried my whole life to do the right, honorable, and just thing, and I believe in my King."
"Then you are a fool." She hissed bitterly. "Justice is only for men of means, not for those outcast. You-" She visibily restrained herself, sinking back into the shadows. A strange bluish light flickered momentarily and the fire blazed deep crimson for a split second.
He watched it for a moment, considering the ramifications of this display of power, then looked upward.
"You can't control it completely, can you?" He asked softly. "It isn't your fault, is it?"
"You walk a very thin line, Knightling."
He shrugged. "Perhaps. Justice isn't just for rich folk. I should know. I wasn't always a kni..." He grinned sheepishly. "A squire. The Code of Chivalry requires impartiality and fairness, each man and woman matters equally where justice is concerned. The King is also a Knight, and a hero at that."
She slipped away from view. "The only thing I have even less use for than Knights and Knightlings are heroes."
"Robin." He said quietly.
"What?"
"My name is Robin. Not Knightling, not boy. Robin."
She turned once. "So?"
He smiled softly. "The polite thing to do would be to introduce yourself as well."
That dark, empty hood faced his direction for some time, as though she was trying to find a way out of his logic. After a moment, she turned away.
"Raven. You'd better be gone in the morning, or I forsee a large amount of nuts in your future."
He took a deep breath, resettled his hat upon his head, then settled down to his meal.
The tubers were overcooked and terribly hard to chew through, but he smiled as he ate them anyway.
Any sort of progress was better than nothing.