Jump City had always been a place of chaos for the Titans—crime, supervillains, and constant alarms—but tucked between an old comic shop and a café was a little bookstore that no one ever seemed to notice. Its faded sign read "Nocturne & Co.", and inside, shelves stretched higher than most people could see, filled with books that smelled of dust, magic, and something… otherworldly.
The owner, a young man named Aurelian Darkthorn, appeared like any ordinary man at first glance—tall, slender, dressed in dark hues, with a quiet air that demanded attention without words. But there was something about him, the subtle glint in his golden eye, the faint dark aura that shimmered like a shadow brushing against light, that suggested he was far from ordinary. He was the last hidden Dark Fae, a prince of a realm long forgotten, now living among humans in secrecy.
Aurelian's mornings began with the soft hum of magic stirring through the bookshelves, a faint vibration in the air that only he could feel. He preferred this solitude. To him, the world beyond his shop was noisy, bright, and careless. Here, between the rows of ancient tomes and whispered spells, he could breathe.
He moved through his bookstore with careful precision, rearranging books that seemed to have minds of their own. Some whispered secrets when no one was listening, others hummed with faint magic. Aurelian had learned, long ago, that every book had a soul, a fragment of memory or emotion. He tended to them as he would a garden—patiently, quietly, reverently.
One rainy afternoon, a familiar black-clad figure stepped into his shop. Raven. The Teen Titans' resident sorceress and walking embodiment of gloom. She pushed the door open, shaking off the rain, and her eyes immediately fell on Aurelian.
"Hello," she said softly, voice low, yet carrying a weight that made Aurelian's chest tighten.
He looked up from a tome he was inspecting. "Hello," he replied, voice smooth, like dark velvet. "Looking for anything in particular?"
Raven glanced around. The air smelled of old pages and something faintly sweet, almost magical. "Maybe… answers," she said, almost as a joke, yet Aurelian caught the sincerity beneath.
Their conversations began cautiously, like two dancers testing the floor. At first, it was about books and myths, about the strange symbols etched into pages that seemed to shift when unobserved. Raven's curiosity was like a quiet tide, probing gently, and Aurelian found himself drawn to it, to her.
For weeks, she returned. Sometimes alone, sometimes under the pretense of researching spells or mystical artifacts. He noticed the way she lingered near books that hummed with dark energy, the way her raven-black cloak seemed to blend into his shadows like they were made for each other.
Aurelian had not expected company, and certainly not someone like Raven. He had hidden in shadows for centuries, wary of humans, wary of discovery. Yet she moved among his shelves as though she belonged, eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and caution.
And slowly, imperceptibly, they began to talk. Not about love, at first. About stories, forgotten myths, and magical realms. Aurelian's voice was gentle, patient, explaining the histories of worlds that Raven had only glimpsed in her meditations. Raven, in turn, shared fragments of her own solitude, the weight of expectation, and the quiet struggles of someone who carried so much darkness inside.
He showed her a book bound in black velvet, etched with silver runes that shifted like liquid shadows. "This belonged to a fae lord," he said softly. "He wrote of a realm where night never ends and time moves differently."
Raven ran her fingers over the cover. "It feels… alive," she whispered. Her touch lingered just a second too long, and Aurelian felt a thrill of warmth he hadn't experienced in centuries.
One evening, as the rain poured outside and the bookstore glowed under the dim, golden lamps, Raven reached for a book that vibrated faintly with power. Her hand brushed his.
Aurelian's breath hitched—not from shock, but from a warmth he hadn't felt in centuries.
"I… haven't felt this safe in a long time," Raven whispered, barely audible.
Aurelian's golden eye softened. "And I haven't had a visitor who understood shadows like you do."
The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to shift, as if acknowledging her presence. A faint wind carried the scent of jasmine and old parchment, wrapping them in a cocoon of quiet intimacy. Neither spoke, but the silence was heavy with unspoken understanding.
From that moment, the space between them grew smaller. Not with grand gestures or confessions, but in quiet glances, shared laughter at obscure texts, and the gentle brush of hands over dusty tomes. Slowly, carefully, love began to weave itself into the corners of their lives, just as stealthily as Aurelian had hidden his true nature in Jump City.
Yet the world outside waited. Titans patrols, dark forces, and fae hunters might one day come knocking. And while Aurelian had learned to survive in shadows, his heart was being illuminated, one quiet, magical moment at a time.
Sometimes, late at night, Raven would linger after the shop had closed, tracing the spines of books with a thoughtful expression. Aurelian watched from the shadows, curious and tense. He wanted to tell her everything—about his heritage, his powers, the fae realm—but he was terrified that revealing too much would push her away.
And yet, he could not resist her presence. Even the faintest touch of her hand on a book sent sparks along his skin, not painful, but awakening something long dormant.
Something that whispered of connection, of longing, and of a future he had once believed impossible.