Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Freezing. It was bloody freezing. 

The icy wind drummed against Dick’s cheeks to an unrelenting, violent rhythm as it snaked its way through the small, open archways of the watchtower.

During the first few weeks of Winter, the cold pushed harder and dug deeper as if testing its limits in preparation for the harsher weeks ahead. It was Dick’s first experience of Winter in the south and he could feel his skin begging for the slightly warmer temperatures of the north. Any place would seem balmy or at the very least slightly more forgiving to a soldier stuck on night duty battling the elements rather than an enemy. 

His metal breastplate pushed down heavily on his shoulders digging its sharp edges into the few protective layers of padding Dick wore beneath it. Each new gust of wind cut deeper and deeper into his clothing leaving only the weight of his breastplate to keep him sane enough to stay at his post and not desperately run out past the city walls, to the barracks and to his slightly warmer bed.

He had already lost track of how many hours into the night he had been standing there at the watchtower, overlooking the Southern Ocean. The long, night routine wasn’t new however not being able to roam anywhere or do anything made it significantly more challenging. The world seemed to consist of only Dick, the wind, and his sword and Dick hated it. To distract himself, his hands played with the hilt of his sword tapping the rhythm to whatever melody was stuck in his head that night.

He was required to stay at his post till the early morning, often the first person to see the rising sun become visible over the jagged mountainous horizon to the east. Sure others would have left much earlier but Dick just couldn’t shake the responsibility, even when it was too cold to think or move. 

He also wasn’t trustworthy yet. 

He had been around for 8 months and only a recent addition to the Great Southern Army. He was an outsider. No one knew him. Hell everyone he had met made a point of not knowing him. 

When he first showed up planning to serve in the army, he was immediately put into reserves as a trainee along with every other boy or man who had shown up. Any consideration of a recruit’s skills were ignored unless one could buy an advisor’s good opinion. Dick was more skilled than most, a result of some intense experiences since he was a young child, and even when attempting to dial down the action during practice it was clear his reflexes and stamina rivalled experienced soldiers and not the typical farmer’s son. No one knew what to do with him. Hating him seemed so much easier than acknowledging him. He was an outsider.

Besides, Dick knew his actions were being watched by Lieutenant Slade. It would be just another reason to punish him and assign him a lousy job everyone else wanted to avoid. Slade was shifty. Dick didn’t need to know the man well to understand that there was more to him than just an uptight bastard drunk with authority. He presided over every event, practice, or drill scheduled for his men like a hound lurking in the shadows of its prey for a moment of weakness. Regardless of the occasion, he constantly wore a full suit of armour of the darkest steel, blackened during the forging process reflecting little light but the harsh orange of a wild flame. Across his right eye he wore an eyepatch which exaggerated the sinister creases of age collected along his cheeks. It was disconcerting to see him stand against the pure, fallen snow during training, disrupting the soft harmony of the winter landscape with his calculated glances and cruel figure. That was why he was always stuck in the freezing cold. The only benefit, he supposed, was that he was alone. He thought about all the other men who were meant to be on duty tonight beside him assigned somewhere else along the city walls doing who knows what.

They probably ran to the nearest tavern as soon as they felt the slightest wind , Dick grumbled. Not that they would ever be reprimanded by Lieutenant Slade. He was great at ignoring the hopelessness of the men under him.

How this city and its army had avoided confrontation for so many years bewildered Dick at times. They were low hanging fruit in both size and skill to their more powerful enemies wanting to devour any small kingdom in their plight for power. Yet neighbouring kingdoms were content to see this land live on and rot from its own incompetence. Maybe it was just luck that had let this kingdom mature without conflict. 

Dick had found that long, monotonous nights were great for worrying - mostly of Alfred, sometimes of the others Dick had also left behind. Alfred hadn’t written in 5 months. His silence worried Dick especially when consistency and frequency of his letters was often to be admired. Alfred would have given a warning or a reason but there had been nothing.

It wasn’t only Alfred who had gone quiet.  Recently, there was no news travelling between the south and the northern kingdoms. No battles, no hot-headed kings or broken alliances, no nothing. Everything was too quiet. If the world was ending, this city was the last to hear of it.

Dick’s eyes wandered around the room. The watchtower was a generous name for a rather tall and unstable stone structure that poked up suddenly from the walls of the main city. It could fit one soldier in its narrow chamber at the top and that position was promised to Dick day in and day out. It was honestly surprising the wind with all its power couldn’t knock down such an easy target. The small room had 5 windows all open to the elements that offered a less than perfect view in all directions.  Even so, one of the watchtower’s only redeeming qualities was that the eye could wander far out across the ocean or gaze at the peninsula to the west where tendered pastures began to appear far outside the city walls and dot much of the ragged coastline that could be salvaged for grazing or growing a sturdy vegetable. Dick rarely enjoyed looking back on the city during his night shifts. The half-beaten roofs of every cramped building in the place were always threatening to pop off and trample some innocent on the street. 

Each night, his attention was on the ocean. It was simply beautiful.

Occasionally when his shift began in the evening, the dying light of the sun would peak through the western window and fill the tower with a warm haze like a final gift before quickly dooming Dick to a dull night on watch illuminated by the weak light of the city from behind. 

Because that was the thing - nothing ever happened.

No enemy was stupid enough to sail their army across the ocean (for they would surely be disappointed by the city) and barely any fishermen seemed to dot the ocean night or day. The ocean hated to be disturbed. Not a soul seemed to cause any ripple from above or below its waters and not a soul from the city dared. It just existed in peace as it wished, unbothered. The watchtower was pointless.

Dick yawned. Maybe 3 hours until he could leave , he thought to himself as he stretched his arms in an attempt to stop them from going numb in the cold.

He shivered violently for the millionth time as the wind picked up again blowing in from behind. It had a strength to it though, nearly knocking him over. Upon steadying himself, he looked out again at the ocean. Its endless dark waters joined with what remained of some rather pitiful, ragged shrubbery along the cliff face and every so often, the bushes near the base of the city walls would dance slowly with If not for a row of trees nestled on the horizon just upon the peninsula, Dick would have believed the night sky was stretching out to coat the earth. 

Until it wasn’t.

A remarkable green light began stretching across the horizon splitting open the sky like a chasm swallowing up the night.

Dick stared in wonder, forgetting for the first time in hours, the prickling sensation of wind slicing his skin. He watched the light draw closer and closer, falling faster and faster in a weakening green haze against the night. The star - what else it could be Dick didn’t know - hit the ocean in a final burst of defiant green sending a large wave from its epicenter that crashed against the rocks at the foot of the city walls. In a matter of moments the green anomaly and all its power had been swallowed by the ocean as if the unexpected visitor had never crashed into its eerily peaceful surface just a moment earlier.

He gripped the stone walls in anticipation for something - anything - to happen again. Something so small to reassure him he wasn’t crazy.  For a second he could have sworn movement below the waves just a faint green flicker of something.

It was everything.

He rushed to the ladder, grabbing a torch on his way and holding it precariously in his left hand. It was likely no one else had seen it happen. Every other guard, soldier, or captain on duty tonight was most likely sound asleep, drunk or both like the rest of the city. But he had to get there before anyone else started asking questions.

He had to find it whatever that light was. Afterall he had been raised curious.

Chapter Text

As soon as Dick’s feet touched the ground, he sprinted down the first corridor to his right towards the western exit. The thing was out there he just had to find a way to get to it.

The passageway was clear as he suspected. There was not a single guard patrolling or any sign of a dim flicker of light from a torch reflected along the stone walls up ahead or behind him besides his own torch. The wind was following Dick cutting into the hallway between open windows, tailing him as maintained a cautious jog. Every cool jab the wind made at the uncomfortable, thin layers of fabric and armour he wore sent goosebumps up his arm or maybe they were already there, in anticipation for whatever he was going to find. A faint echo of laughter bounced out from far behind him, reassuring him he was alone and would hopefully be for a while longer as he navigated his way out. For once the bad habits of his fellow soldiers were useful. 

Every few moments a chorus of shouting would begin out of joy or anger before droning out with the rumble of laughter. Dick could be certain at least that they hadn’t seen anything and as long as booze and money was to be won, drunk, or fought over, no one was likely to walk these passageways till morning.

At the end of the corridor was a low hanging archway marking the western staircase to the lower floors. Placing his torch on a nearby holder, Dick ran down the stairs placing each foot carelessly guided by memory until he reached the second floor. Whilst the others may have deserted their post, the guards at the western exit were sure to be there. It was one of few jobs that soldiers had yet to find a way out of. 

The western exit out of the city led straight into an encroaching forest. To pass through it a simple dirt road had been made for farmers to connect the pastures and farmlands along the peninsula to the city but it was infrequently used and often deserted during the winter months. An occasional hunter might roam the outskirts of the woods for small game like a rabbit or nesting bird but few ventured far into the forest off the path. The city had ignored much of the forest and so, like the ocean, the forest seemed content to ignore the city. 

The lack of activity around the western exit particularly for the given time of day made it difficult to leave. Waltzing out the western gate was hard but jumping out a window on a lower floor was slightly easier. Dick just needed to rip off his breastplate and then fling himself out a window hopefully in reach of a nearby tree. 

Easier said than done. 

The western corridor on his left had a small armoury at the end where a collection of supplies from breastplates to ropes lay waiting, undisturbed as the location was rather inconvenient and forgetful. It was perfect for storing Dick’s armour. With a location now in mind for his next step, Dick’s feet went into action, carefully moving towards the door. 

Clank. Clank. Clank. 

Heavy footsteps hit the floor as metal and stone smacked together, reverberating down the adjacent hallway. They were heading towards Dick at a steady pace and he was sure it couldn’t be a guard. The faint laughter from the floor above seemed to mock him now as it fell down the stairwell. He had forgotten the one man who did his job. Slade . 

He wasn’t meant to be patrolling tonight , Dick thought, maybe it isn’t Slade . 

Without his torch, Dick was concealed by the shadows at the base of the stairwell and he took a small step towards the armoury down the corridor. His breastplate scraped against an outcrop in the stone wall sending a noise out into the quiet corridor.  He cursed himself under his breath. He had also forgotten how annoying armour was for sneaking around. 

Clank. Clank. Clank. 

The footsteps were gaining on him. He had maybe ten seconds before Slade or whoever it was would turn the corner and spot him down the hall. So Dick rushed, cautious of the rattling of his armour, to the armoury, opened the fortunately unlocked door and began unbuckling and tearing off the various bits of armour strapped to his body to make his escape.

The armoury was far too small for its purpose with the wall opposite the door lined with dull, rusting swords and axes, that even with the moon shining through two windows on a clear night seemed incapable of reflecting anything but darkness. 

Dick kept his ear pressed to the door counting down as the footsteps turned the corner and made their way towards the armoury. The steady pace thumped in his ears, much slower and controlled than his own heart which drowned out all other noise. The clanking of metal came to a halt outside the door and the flickering light of the bearer’s torch seeped into the room following the edge of the door frame struggling to penetrate deeper into the darkness. 

Clank. Clank. Clank. 

The footsteps slowly moved away back down the hall. Dick, now with his armour removed and lying against the wall, took the opportunity to unlatch the window. The cool air beat against his face as it filled the room, even harsher now that he had lost the armour. There was a tree within arm reach below the window and a decently sized bush for a safety net below. After propping himself up on the window frame, he jumped without hesitation grasping at the branch as he fell. He was able to hold on for three rather painful seconds before his grip betrayed him and he fell onto the bush below. 

He was out of practice and rather stiff in the joints from the past few months as only a soldier far from any action. If he was still at that place, training day in and day out, he would have stuck the landing. What would Alfred say if he saw him being more reckless than usual? The thought made Dick want to laugh and grimace at the same time. 

Even with the night as cover and the wind to muffle the rustle of leaves as Dick rolled himself off the bush and out of the dirt, he couldn’t shake the feeling that two pointed eyes were following him as he ran into the forest.

Chapter Text

Dick was quite familiar with the woods around the city as he preferred to spend what little spare time he had away from the confined spaces of the city walls and barracks. 

The forest was expansive, stretching out across the peninsula to the west until it encroached on farmland and before moving north to surround the city and beyond. It was an old forest of tall spruce trees that danced in the wind day in and day out creating a song-like rustle of leaves and branches. Dick was half in-love with the sound alone, but at night, that quality was muted and replaced by a somber whisper. 

Relying on what little moonlight penetrated the canopy, Dick quickly navigated through the forest evading the occasional branch and rock outcrop in his path as he headed south towards the ocean. He didn’t need to be cautious out here where the only game hunters had ever boasted was a large rabbit or rare bird. People were just as rare in these woods, rarer still on a cold night. Farmers from the peninsula sometimes journeyed through the forest to sell their produce in the city but they could follow designated roads. Never would they dare venture off the path. Even if wolves or bears had never been spotted, people spoke of worse things. Old wives tales of cursed men and witches prowling the forest were clung to for fear by people around here. Even though witches had gone extinct long ago on the continent and with them the curses and spells that fed stories in these parts. But Dick had to admit, there was something odd about these woods. 

The trees were starting to thin out up ahead revealing streaks of dark and turbulent blues through the gaps between trunks. Dick began to slow down and focus on his surroundings for evidence. Uphead was a quiet cove tucked away in an unsuspecting natural bend in the coast where the city and its tall, looming walls were barely visible as they peeked over the forest canopy. He peered out onto the ocean from the cove, still standing within the forest boundaries. He was sure the thing had landed in the sea somewhere a stone’s throw or two off the coast. 

Movement in the corner of his eyes stole his attention. 

A figure emerged from the soft lull of the waves, dragging themselves slowly ashore to the stony beach. They appeared to be leaning further and further to the left as each step was placed with a clear hesitation from either pain or caution. Despite this, he could see that they were quite tall, maybe standing a few inches taller than himself at full height, as their silhouette blotted out the view of water around them. As soon as their feet began to tread against the solid, stony ground of the cove’s shore, they collapsed in a heap of groans, coughing up bouts of water through strained gasps of air. Eventually they mustered up the strength to crawl up against a large rock poking out near the water’s edge. They laid there unmoving against the rock with their eyes closed. 

Careful to stay within reach of the forest’s shadows, Dick took the half-dead state of the figure as an invitation to move closer and decipher the mystery before him. 

Had he even considered it could be a person? For someone to hit the water like that from such a height, with such power and survive? And then there was that light. Dick had never read or heard of such magic wield by a witch or wizard. But if it was not magic, what was it? 

One moment Dick was about an arms length away, the next he was flat on his back as the figure’s - no, a young woman's - hand tightened dangerously around his neck. He instinctively tried to maneuver his body and fling her off but her grip was iron absorbing any power Dick tried to throw at her to regain control. In the struggle, Dick glanced up at her. 

He was caught in her eyes. The whole of her eyes - the whites, iris, everything - glowed that amazing green colour he had witnessed a few hours earlier. Their light frightened away the last moments of night that clung to her face leaving an intense glow that beautifully spread across the face. 

But there was something unmistakable in them - fear. 

Despite her strength, she was rapidly losing the energy to keep Dick pinned to the ground. Realising this, she was now shouting at him, anger dousing each word. Her words… It took Dick a moment to realise he couldn’t understand them. He was familiar with most spoken tongues on the continent but hers was one he couldn’t even begin to decipher. Was it a language of some foreign fae kingdom or a rare dialect? 

“X’hal,” she shouted again, shaking Dick in a panicked attempt to get any response.

“What?” Dick barely choked out. The strain on his neck was getting worse. She seemed to understand the issue as she loosened her grip allowing Dick to breathe normally. Her next move shocked him. 

In a single motion, she lowered her head and pressed her lips against his. 

In any other situation this would have been perceived as romantic. The sun had just peeked over the eastern ranges showering the ocean in pearls of light that glistened in harmony with one another against the calm blue. The kiss was short-lived. 

As she drew away, Dick finally saw her clearly. Her eyes were remarkable, sure, but how could he have not noticed the hair? It was this dark, beautiful pink that faded into curls matching the light of the morning sun as it framed her face. It complemented the orange hue of her skin. Dick felt heat rise to his cheeks. She was certainly beautiful . 

“What is this place called?” she asked as she quickly pushed herself off Dick and staggered away wiping at her mouth. Dick stared at her. He was not going to include that part in his next letter to Alfred.

“What? You kiss a stranger and then ask?” Dick replied, “Who are you?” As he spoke he stood up all while keeping a careful eye on the woman in front of him. She wore this strange metallic breastplate with a purple shine. As far as armoured pieces went, it was somehow fitted to her body extending no further than the shoulders whilst her hips were covered by a short skirt like starlight. 

“Kiss?” she asked. 

“Who are you?” he repeated again. 

“Koriand'r but I believe in your tongue it would be Starfire. ” 

“Starfire?”

“It is now customary to tell me yours, is it not?” 

“It’s Dick.” 

Chapter Text

“Why’d you kiss me?” 

The question came out a bit more desperate than Dick had intended and he felt heat slowly rise to his cheeks once again. Everything was confusing. One moment she was unintelligible, the next she was speaking the same tongue as fluently as he was. Naturally he needed answers, that was all.

“This kiss… it is the lip contact, no?” Dick watched as she shifted her weight painfully onto her right side as she continued. “For my people, it is used to transfer language. I did not understand you and you did not understand me.”

“Oh,” Dick replied. Of course you idiot , he muttered to himself. But the act of kissing to transfer language was unheard of, once again, in any archive or library he had accessed, of any creature or myth documented. It seemed the only logical explanation was witchcraft but, even then, Dick was hesitant to label everything he had seen in the few short hours as the work of magic. From what he could piece together through history, magic was archaic and sinister. The woman in front of him, barely standing after smashing into icy waters and what other trials she had endured, seemed to be anything but. One of Dick’s few talents was his knack for reading people and all he saw was fear in her eyes as they darted here and there searching for answers.

Magic was an easy answer but it was wrong. 

Dick stared at her again, seeing her more clearly as the morning sun rose and continued to climb up and over the eastern ranges illuminating her features in a flattering soft glow. She had injuries he had failed to notice earlier. Black and blue bands wrapped around her wrists and ankles, fading into red blotches where the skin had been torn. He studied the way she stood too, favouring her right side to hide the pain coming from somewhere on her left whilst her shoulders slumped forward as if conditioned to bearing a huge weight day in and day out. She must have been escaping something .

Her injuries… They suggested that until recently she had worn restraints. Dick knew that slave networks extended across the western coast of the continent and had long been the root of conflict but to escape so far south was once again unheard of, or rather, quite strange. She had escaped something, but what?

“Where are you from?” he probed. 

“Far,” she replied, shifting her weight carefully back onto her other foot once more with a barely hidden grimace as she did so. A mournful expression spread across her face before she nodded, more of a personal assurance if anything. Far . Dick could work with ‘far’ for the time being.

Not a place or a name. Just far . 

Koriand'r glanced at her surroundings considering the border of the forest where it met the stony shore of the cove. For a moment Dick worried she would make a run for it and lose her in the wilds but to his relief she turned her attention back to him, looking him up and down.

His black hair was rather dishevelled after having grown untamed for more than 6 months in thick locks that covered his neck and framed the face. After the events of the night, Dick wouldn’t have been surprised if he looked rather mad. In his haste to remove his armour, some stray items of padding remained strapped to his limbs and his tunic was splattered with a sticky mosaic of various stains from mud and leaves he had collected along his rushed journey through the woods. Alfred’s nagging voice rang through his mind, At least try to maintain an air of civility Master Dick. Maybe he would appreciate the absurdity of the situation, thought Dick.

Starfire’s eyes lingered on his face, causing heat to rise to Dick’s cheeks once again. She didn’t break away, staring him down for a moment longer.

“Where are we?” she asked. 

“Outside of Jump City, in the Southern Kingdom.” She seemed to acknowledge his reply but as Starfire repeated the answer to herself, lost in a barrage of thoughts, the words felt foreign in her mouth as if she couldn’t quite force the moment of understanding she was looking for.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.” The firm but short no wasn’t what Dick wanted but it was clear, far meant far. 

With the day becoming even brighter, Dick began to see more and more problems with his little spontaneous escape from his duties in the city. He could escape any consequences by surrendering the woman in front of him to the army as a prisoner. Pretend it was all intentional for the good of the city, for the good of the kingdom, to protect against dangerous anomalies. But if word got out that an otherwise insignificant city in the Southern Kingdom had a mysterious and powerful woman, all hell would break loose across the continent. If Dick’s suspicions of her controlling some power were true, what she could be for an army when at full strength would be frightening but what she could mean to someone like Slade was even worse. It wasn’t a possibility. None of it could be. 

He had to do something. Besides, his place in the army was never meant to be permanent.

“Do you need a place to stay?”  

She eyed him suspiciously. Clearly trust wasn’t in the picture yet, not that he could blame her.

“Just until you’ve recovered,” he added, gesturing to her injuries, “how you’re able to stand right now is beyond me.” 

Following his gaze, Koriand'r peered down at herself, bloodied, drained and tired. Whatever strength had kept her up for so long was quickly leaving as everything ached more acutely than before. It was true. From her appearance, it was clear she had not been spared rest in a long time. 

Sensing her hesitancy, Dick offered his right hand. It was calloused and rough as a result of extensive training built up over time through painful repetition and if you stared hard enough, it seemed to curl around an invisible handle as if waiting patiently for the feel of leather against the skin. It was the favoured hand of a soldier seasoned in combat but he hoped she saw the sincerity.

He wanted to help her. 

After a moment, she took a painful step forward to grasp the outstretched hand. An unnatural warmth immediately spread up Dick’s arm as her hand intertwined with his. Shamelessly, he gripped her hand a little tighter to savour the warmth of her touch. Whilst the wind had dropped since night-time, only adrenaline had kept him warm enough to get by and, clad in his thin tunics, it took a lot of restraint to not envelop her in a hug just to absorb any stray heat that radiated off her.

“I thank you.” 

Dick grinned, "Don’t mention it. I know somebody who can help.” 

Chapter Text

The ground. That was what she liked the most about this new place. It was alive. Every step felt different. It was not cold and slippery or hard and unmoving. She could feel everything. In the soil, the subtle movement of a creature digging in and out of the dirt in the most intricate patterns, the tickle of tiny black dots marching up and over her feet as one would a hill, and the soft swaying of stubby vegetation against the side of her leg. If she had been given a moment to lay her body down, she was certain a glimpse of the tiny world at her feet could have fed her for days. 

With the rising run growing ever more prominent in the sky and penetrating the forest, the beginnings of a power began stirring inside her. She had almost forgotten the feeling of morning sunlight brushing her skin. She didn’t feel strong though. It was too early to feel different. Her body still screamed for rest, for sleep, for calm, for food. 

The man who was leading her now surely knew where to find at least one of those things. But if the past years under lock and key had taught her anything: trusting in help was rather naïve. Kindness was rationed amongst warriors, and as she suspected the man to be one much like herself, a small part of her began to regret taking his hand. 

She knew her sister, Komand’r, would be laughing wickedly at her foolishness. Only you could see bloodshed and come out weaker, sister. The man had offered help, not promised it. That was the difference between life and death. But every part of Koriand’r wanted to trust him. She wanted to be able to trust somebody. 

But the man who led her was also strange. His tousled black hair reminded her of her sister but it was a silly comparison. There was no hate in his eyes. He had stared at her bewildered, maybe even flustered - she was happy she still had some charm to her - ready to understand whatever she was and help her immediately. It was clear at least he had no affiliation with the Citadel or Gordanians. They feared her. He at least wanted to help her. 

As he walked up ahead, she observed his movements. Quick, trained, deliberate. He was exceptionally light on his feet and clearly athletic, confirming her suspicion he was a warrior like herself. He faltered into this clumsy mess every so often when he glanced back to meet her eyes as if surprised to see she was still there in tow. 

Koriand’r also saw the agitation in each step, the slight worry as he observed their quiet surroundings, the nervous tapping of his sword strapped against his waist. It was clear he was worried about something. He didn’t try to tell her to hurry up either though, she was injured after all. But what was he so worried about? Would she never be safe even when there was no Citadel? He had mentioned a friend, but in her experience that term could be stretched to define anyone. 

But other worries had begun to nag at her too. Her escape from the carrier ship had been too easy. The carrier ship was a small shuttle designed for trips between holding facilities, when her capturers wanted to consider her next role for their entertainment. After years of captivity, all it had taken was one well-foreseen moment when the guard in charge of handing out meals had hesitated. A brief echo from down the hall had stolen his attention for a mere moment (he had stepped too far into the cell too, clearly too inexperienced) seeing that, Koriand’r rushed forward and strangled him with a quick yank of her chains. She knew Galfore would have been pleased. The Warlords of Okaara would have chastised her for her weak form. They would have wanted her to use strength she didn’t have. Galore would have just wanted her to escape. It was effective, however, and after a short battle for the upper hand, Koriand’r had come out victorious and satisfied by the sight of the guard’s limp form on the floor. 

The five other guards on board were somehow easier to deal with. Like their friend, they had thought her weak and destroyed. Above all, they were cowardly. 

The main ship would have attracted too much attention and would be easier to track once the Citadel learnt of her escape so she had taken control of a smaller shuttle craft onboard. She had not considered where she would go. The words safe and home were wildly different things after so many years at war. She just wanted to leave and decide where later but the where was decided for her. The shuttle was hit by something. Maybe there had been 6 guards onboard. Maybe she had grown soft. Maybe she was as weak as Komand’r believed her to be. When she had finally come to, she was once again alone and trapped in a strange place. 

“Starfire.” 

The low, softness of the man’s voice, of Dick’s she should say, made her focus back onto surroundings. It took her a moment to realise they had both stopped walking. 

“Are you alright?” 

It was such a vague, foreign question but as she followed his eyes which were now pinned to her left side, she realised why. What had started as a dull and scratchy feeling below her rib cage had now grown into a hot searing pain and as soon as she peered down at the oozing red splodge that was quickly growing, she almost doubled over in pain. 

She must have lost her balance as Koriand’r felt her right arm fall across someone’s shoulder whilst a hand carefully applied pressure to her side. Maybe she protested this as she heard a voice try to soothe her, tell her it was alright. All at once everything felt heavy and exhausting. The last thing she remembered was Komand’r whispering rutha. Weak.

“-seriously Dick where did-”

That voice was new. Rough. Where was she? 

Koriand’r groaned in pain as she fumbled to feel whatever was wrong with her left side. X’hal. It felt sticky. 

“-grab her arm-”

She felt someone pry her hand away. 

Rutha.

Then she slept. 

Chapter Text

“So you don’t know where she is from?” 

Victor was closely inspecting the contents of a pot resting over the fire. A slight scent of burning meat wafted through the air but it didn’t seem to bother him as he gave its contents a quick stir. 

“No,” Dick replied. He did not really feel like explaining anything. He was not really sure if he could explain it yet anyway.

Victor raised an eyebrow over his shoulder as he moved to the cabin’s makeshift kitchen, a rather neat assortment of different hand-carved wooden bowls and plates nestled between pots and drying herbs, looking for something. He made a small booyah upon finding a small vial and tipped some of its contents, a coarse dried powder, into the pot. The stew gurgled happily for a moment before settling down. 

“She hasn’t mentioned anything,” Dick sighed. “I don’t think she even knows where she is.” 

Soft mumbling drifted across the room. Since Starfire had fainted an hour or so earlier, and only incoherent strings of that same mystical language could be heard. Dick had quickly given up deciphering. He had spent the better part of an hour trying to understand anything familiar in the tone, words, structure but had failed miserably. Victor had glanced over once or twice unsure but had yet to ask what she was saying. Dick did not really want to explain how exactly he had found her yet. 

Her wound was worrying though. It was a deep puncture under her ribs that had thankfully missed an organ by some divine intervention but it would take weeks to properly heal. Victor had cleaned it well before going in with stitches, as well as he could really. It had partially healed in some places by the looks of it. He couldn’t be sure what had caused it. When Dick had asked, he again eyed it unsure, lips pressed tight. 

So, Dick was left to speculate. A sword? A jagged edge of a stone? Magic?

Usually he prided himself on noticing small details but he seemed to have missed the obvious gaping wound at her side. He had been distracted but not that distracted. He could almost hear Bruce chide him for not using his eyes, scouting out any potential issues even before they appeared. 

Once the main wound was dealt with, the two both eyed her other wounds too. Some old, some healed, some fresh that seemed to fester in the shadows of the hut. But Victor, to his credit again, did little more than stare for a moment before setting to work and patching her up. They had both come to a silent conclusion. Some things were best left unsaid, for the time being at least. 

Dick fiddled with the hilt of his sword. He had gotten lucky. She had fainted only a stone’s throw away from Victor’s cabin. Victor was the only person, a friend of sorts he supposed, that he could turn to with a far better understanding of medicine than anyone he knew.

The two of them meeting had been a chance encounter back when Dick had first begun exploring the forests around Jump City. One arrow had grazed his cheek, another had landed an arms length away from his foot before Dick had realised he was being hunted. A moment later a gruff hand was pulling him back up onto his feet. The hand’s owner introduced himself as Victor and patched him up at his cabin. Since then they had only shared a small drink once or twice when Victor had ventured into the city to sell his game but that was it, for the most part he lived the life of a recluse in the woods. Victor said he was a hunter so Dick believed him, partially. 

The cabin was dimly lit with only the central fire for light which at the moment had its attention divided by the pot above it and the heap of fire wood below it. Starfire occupied the only bed, in the far corner, whilst Dick and now Victor sat across from each other at a long oak table. Dick had come to realise that he had never taken a good look at Victor. He was constantly hunched over, half in darkness, half illuminated by flickering tails of light. The thick hunters jacket he wore left everything detail about him uncertain. One glance at him and you would walk away unable to describe much else about him but his clothes. There was the matter of his eye though.

Dick would have said eyes but Victor only had the one on the right. Something about a long story and an accident as a child, that he had not cared to elaborate on. Dick noted how he made sure to skirt around the details, and something in his head told him to push and find out. It was probably Bruce so he ignored it. The accident had left long, fine raised scars that glistened, near silver in the light of the fire. 

“Why did you come here? It's not like I’m not exactly easy to find.” 

Dick sighed again. He was doing that a lot today. Everything had gotten very complicated. Hell, maybe even Bruce would be looking on at him sympathetically. 

“It was either come here or leave her to die. I couldn’t go back to the barracks. I didn’t even want to try Jump City. It’s teeming with Slade’s henchmen, even more so now that talk of war is brewing.”

It was a half-truth. Dick was still debating whether telling Victor he suspected Starfire to be something other was a good idea. Perhaps Victor sensed his hesitation, as he seemed to mill over Dick’s words. 

“Yeah? Well she won’t recover overnight, you know. She’s got some bad wounds, new and old.” 

“I know but I can’t go back to the city. I left my post. I’m probably a dead man as soon as Slade gets his hands on me.”

“You soldiers are so serious. You left your post once to help an injured girl. Aren’t valiant deeds meant to be your bread and butter?”

Dick hummed a non-committal answer and turned his attention to what little he could see out the only window in the cabin. It was well into the morning, although the sunlight seemed to avoid the cabin windows entirely, skirting around the edges of the wooden frame. 

The night shift changes often happened about now. Someone would be waiting to take Dick’s place on watch, getting frustrated at the bottom of the watch tower before discovering he was not even there in the first place. There was no guarantee they would tell anyone but Slade would know. Dick was certain he already knew but he was trying very hard to not think about that. An excuse wouldn’t go very far either. Drunk at the tavern? Unlikely and besides, no one would confirm he was there. The barracks were too obvious with too many eyes. Family and friends? None. Any other commander would not have cared. Slade was different. 

Dick was always stuck with the difficult ones.

“I can’t tell Slade that part. About Starfire.” 

”Why?” Victor leant forward slightly and Dick had the slight sense to feel a bit intimidated by him. He had the eye of a hunter, dark and knowing, as if calculating the precise moment to strike. 

“He’s not going to let it go. It’s my mess to clean up.” And I don’t even know what she is.

“Grayson, you really are dramatic,” Victor sighed. “Fine she can stay for a short while. She needs to rest and god knows I could use the company.” He took a swing of his drink before continuing. 

“In the meantime, make a plan.”