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Raven likes routines. She always has, ever since she was a little girl. Azarath was nothing if not strictly regulated by routine. Even if she now scorns Azar’s teachings, old habits die hard.
She wakes up as dawn light begins streaming through her large windows. Waking up with the sun… something feels right about it. It’s as if she’s connected to her empire, her lifeblood feeding into it, or perhaps the other way around. The sun is an important part of many, many cultures. On Tamaran--
--that’s not right, there are no worlds called Tamaran under her control--
Raven showers every morning, to keep herself neat and presentable before she faces the masses. In addition, she considers it a relaxing way to start her day. Almost like a morning meditation.
Yawning, Raven turns on the shower. She doesn’t have to do this all herself--she could easily demand her maids draw a bath for her; even wash her. Still, she finds it unnecessary. It’s easy enough to do it herself, and besides, the thought of anyone else seeing her body makes her burn with self-consciousness unbefitting of a daughter of Trigon. It’s best to do it herself, and avoid any improper feelings.
She slips out of her nightgown and steps under the water, sighing happily as it hits her skin, waking her up fully. When she’s all alone like this, it’s much easier to feel relaxed and peaceful, not at all like how she feels ruling at Father’s side. She hums softly to herself as she rubs jasmine-scented soap into her red skin. Where did she hear that tune? She can’t quite remember…
When she’s done, she wraps herself in a towel and steps back into her room. Just as always, a maid had slipped in while she was in the bathroom and made her bed, as well as left her breakfast on her desk. She eats the same thing every morning--a piece of toast with jam, two eggs, and strips of cured beef. (The beef is a newer addition that her father had insisted on, claiming she doesn’t get enough protein from just the eggs, and Raven had accepted it readily, happy to have someone taking care of her.)
She gets dressed quickly, so as to not let her breakfast get too cold, but really, it doesn’t matter much if it does. If she ordered her maid to bring her a fresh plate, it would be done as quickly as possible.
She likes to read as she eats. Today, she’s in the final pages of a thrilling romance novel, where the heroine is finally being reunited with her long lost love. She scoffs at humans and their foolish attachments the same as Father does, but still, she enjoys stories about them. Perhaps she’s just never grown out of experiencing emotions through others, rather than firsthand.
She always eats her food in the same order--beef strips, eggs, then toast. It feels like a good omen to end the meal on a sweet note. Once she’s finished, she pins her cloak to her dress and steps out of the room, ready to start her day.
She makes her way over to the throne room. Father is already there, waiting for her. He walks over to greet her, clasping her shoulder in one large hand. “How did you sleep? Did you have any nightmares?”
“Only one.” Father seems displeased with her answer, but it’s an improvement to when she first arrived and could hardly sleep without waking up screaming.
Father cups her cheek affectionately, looking at her with concern. “Perhaps if you had someone to share your bed, you would sleep easier.”
Raven feels a jolt of anxiety at his words, but still keeps the same pleasant expression on her face. It’s not the first time he’s suggested it, but every time she’s rebuffed it. She doesn’t like the idea of a human sharing her bed; having to sense her emotions all night--but she doesn’t like the idea of upsetting Father, either.
“I… I will consider it,” she says noncommittally, and thankfully, it seems to be enough for now.
Raven settles down on her throne, next to Father’s. His advisor, Grool, approaches them both, ready to give them the usual morning briefing. His eyes glance anxiously between Raven and her father, as if he can’t choose who to focus on. His worry is understandable, as Father had killed the last Grool for not taking Raven seriously enough, but still, it’s irritating.
Raven pays attention as Grool speaks (more than Father does; she can sense his boredom) pleased that there’s hardly anything to report. She hopes her duties for the day can be dealt with quickly. She wants to go horseback riding, but there hasn’t been any time in the last few days.
After the report is done, Father stands, beckoning her to follow him. She gets to her feet, following him out of the throne room and into the hall. “Where are we going, Father?”
“The dungeons,” he answers. “Do you remember the turncoat who was giving us such trouble yesterday?”
Raven nods. Father had made her torture him for hours, until the shadows and grown long and she was filthy and exhausted. Her dinner had been late. The disruption to her routine had made her restless. Perhaps that’s why she’d had a nightmare.
“His daughter was captured in the night,” Father continues, a cruel smile on his face. “He will not stay silent much longer.”
Raven is quiet for a moment, considering. Her father has proven he would move heaven and earth to protect her, of course--but not all fathers are as loving as hers, are they? In her old life, she had a friend who… who…
“Your skills have grown so beautifully,” Father is saying. Raven shakes her head to clear it, focusing on his words once more. “I want you to deal with her.”
Raven smiles slightly at the compliment. “I will do my best to please you.”
The dungeons are gloomy and dim, almost suffocating. Raven never particularly enjoys trips down to them. Her small heels click against the stones as they walk deeper into them. Raven focuses on the sound they make, rather than the anguished moans and pleas for mercy from the prisoners.
They reach the correct cell. The man’s daughter is in the cell with him. She looks to be in her late teens (is it weakness that something in Raven is relieved not to have to torture a child?). They sit huddled together, the man’s arms around his daughter. The sight makes Raven feel strange.
With just a touch, the door of the cell magically opens for Father. The man looks up, glaring at Raven and her father as they walk in. Intense, all consuming anger… it’s starting to get overwhelming. Raven hopes this will be over quickly.
Raven tears the girl out of her father’s arms, pinning her against the wall and drawing a jeweled knife that Father had given her.
The torture takes up most of the morning. Raven is sweaty and covered in blood by the time the prisoner finally breaks and begins to talk. She feels irritated that it had taken so long. Perhaps if it hadn’t, Raven wouldn’t need a second shower.
After they’d gotten all the information they needed, Father moves to kill them, but Raven holds out a hand, briefly stopping him. “Can I do it, Father, please?”
His irritated look becomes a smile. “Of course, Raven.”
Father and daughter alike are incinerated in moments by Raven’s death stare. She feels a brief surge of vindication. Still, their deaths don’t clean the stains out of her dress.
Raven’s second shower is less pleasant than the first. She hates washing blood out of her long hair. She showers as quickly as she can, then puts on a fresh dress and cloak. She ties her hair in a loose braid to keep it from getting dirty again.
By now, it’s well into midday. All the exertion has left Raven feeling awfully, ravenously hungry. A few minutes after she asks for it, lunch is brought to her room for her. For the past few weeks, she’s eaten the same stew from a far-off planet she’d recently visited for lunch every day. Father has begun voicing the concern that surely, Raven must be getting sick of it by now, but she isn’t. It’s warm and comforting.
After lunch, Raven meets up with her father once more. This time, her duties are much lighter--Father tells her to go through records of losses during recent war efforts, and she does with no complaint. It’s dull work, but Raven likes the steady monotony of it.
Raven works as quickly as she can, finishing when there’s still an hour or two of daylight left. She excuses herself before dimension-shifting to the stables. She goes to the stall of her favorite horse, a large, black mare with four gleaming yellow eyes. The mare happily eats the apple chunks she offers out of the palm of her hand, blissfully unaware of who Raven is or all the awful things she’s done.
Raven saddles the mare and mounts her, cantering out of the stables and into the castle’s vast grounds. Once she’s out in a large field, she begins to gallop, laughing at the feeling of the wind in her face. She feels so alive. Almost free.
Once the shadows begin to grow long, and she and the mare are both tired, Raven has the mare trot back to the stables. She could order someone else to unsaddle the horse and give her water, but Raven likes to do it herself.
As she fills the trough with water, the mare nuzzles her cloak, trying to find any more food she might have hidden. Raven laughs at the feeling, gently pushing her head away. She feels peaceful in the stables, almost like how she felt when…
Raven returns to the castle. Father wants her to meet him for dinner tonight, and Raven is happy to, even if she prefers to eat alone. She sits across from him in their private dining hall (which is much smaller than the public one, reserved for feasts) and pushes the locks of hair that had fallen out of her braid during her ride behind her ears.
Father smiles at her. “Did you have fun?”
Raven nods, smiling slightly. “Thank you for letting me go.”
“You did well today.” Servants set plates of food in front of her and her father, then back away to the corners of the room, ready to be summoned again at a moment’s notice. “Truly, you have grown into such a capable woman. Being free of Azar’s shackles has allowed you to blossom.”
“I am grateful to be free, Father.” Raven dips her head. “Thank you.”
Raven begins to eat, mulling over the events of the day. She remembers the way the woman she tortured screamed and cried, begging her father to save her, only for him to do nothing. It wasn’t until she was half dead, and Father began to get handsy with her limp body that the man finally broke.
Raven is truly lucky to have such a kind, loving father. How many other men would be willing to sacrifice their entire dimension just to be with their daughter? Raven’s chest feels warm with love as she glances across the table at him. Father hasn’t even had to punish her ages. Raven resolves to keep being as good as possible, so she can keep feeling this easy, pleasant love.
“Father,” Raven says after a few minutes of silence. “That man from earlier… he was an awful father, was he not?”
“Oh, yes,” Father agrees. “I would never let such pain befall on you.”
The warm feeling in Raven’s chest grows stronger.
After dinner, Raven bids her father good night and returns to her room. She gets ready for bed, untying her braid and putting on a nightgown. She picks up her book to read the ending once she’s settled down in bed. Hopefully, the happy ending will help her have peaceful dreams.
Once she finishes the book, she turns off her lamp, and curls up into a ball, shutting her eyes. As always, it takes a long time for sleep to come.