Chapter Text
Everything he had thought he knew for the first ten years of his life was a lie.
He had begun to suspect as much by his eighth year, but that made him no more prepared to go from the cool dampness of the caves to tripping across continents on unsteady wings, the information skimmed from Grandfather's files at the forefront of his mind in a last minute attempt to prepare for his first meeting with his father.
Damian looked up at the looming visage of Wayne Manor. Was this truly where his father resided? They had traversed the gate with ease and the alarms had been child's play. It was rather discomfiting to consider that the home of his sire had such poor security.
Or perhaps the security was excellent and this was merely a ruse. That seemed likely.
Mother favored him with a glance, then she pressed the doorbell. The door was swiftly opened by a gray-haired man dressed smartly in a suit, starling wings folded perfectly at his back. He stared at them for a moment, gaze inscrutable, then spoke in crisp, British tones. "Please wait here for a moment. I shall speak to Master Wayne."
Damian's wings fluttered in agitation as the door closed. Mother cut him a sharp glare and he bit back a wince and forced his wings to settle, shifting to alleviate the discomfort of his ruffled feathers. He could wait. It would not do to make a poor initial impression.
The door re-opened soon enough and the starling gestured them inside. Damian shuffled behind Mother, wings drawn in tight. The Manor hall was so large and open. Damian could not shake off the feeling that someone was going to swoop down and ambush him.
The starling attempted to speak; small words of welcome that rang insincerely. Mother brushed past him without a word, though Damian offered a slight nod as thanks for the formality, the genuineness of the gesture notwithstanding. He trailed after Mother as she strode straight for a large man with dark wings, tense with agitation. Three other people—Father's heirs, Damian reminded himself—were grouped in a loose semicircle behind the man.
"Hello, beloved," Mother said.
The man—Father—froze motionless, eyes darting over to Damian. He met them as calmly as he could. Mother had warned him that Father's ways were different from the League, though exactly how was not specified. It would not do to display fear or resistance until he could be certain of how this colony worked.
"Talia," an heir spoke up. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Damian could not summon the ability to think. He could barely breathe. That voice rang in his mind, dredging up old, painful memories he had buried deep because even if it hurt to remember, he would sooner die than forget a single one.
He wrestled back control as quickly as he could, quieting his quickened breathing and slowing his racing heart. It was too much to hope for.
Mother was speaking and he honed in on her voice. "—was time to entrust him to your care."
"The hell, Bruce!" That painfully familiar voice was exactly the same. "A little warning would have been nice!"
"I—" Father stopped. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. "Jason, we'll talk later. Talia, please leave."
Mother braced a hand on Damian's shoulder as she stepped away. "I trust you will not disappoint me."
"Yes, Mother," he responded, keeping his wings tucked away against the urge to enfold her in his arms and beg her not to go. It was ridiculous. He was far too old for such pup behavior. He turned his attention back to his father. Deep blue eyes were trained on him, along with another blue-flicker-green pair that abruptly went gold.
"Bruce," the heir—Jason, Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, head omega and Core of the colony—said carefully. "How old is he?"
"Ah, yes." Mother turned back. "My apologies, beloved, I should have mentioned it. Our son is an alpha already, though that is to be expected of any child of ours, is it not, beloved? He presented two years ago."
"Two years ago," Jason whispered in a horrified tone. "He's a child!"
"I am ten years old," Damian sniffed. "I am of age to do anything you ask of me."
Father pinched the bridge of his nose. "Leave, Talia. Now."
The door swung shut behind her and the starling locked it. Damian did not flinch at the click. He remained where he was, cataloging everything he knew.
Common starling.
Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth. Beta. Retired member of the British Guard and MI5, pursued a career as an actor before serving the Wayne family. Proper-mannered and well versed in traditions. Agent of the Detective, known to keep a shotgun in defense of the house.
Damian tracked the man's movements without seeming too obvious about it. This was not a person he wished to challenge yet—or at all, if he could help it.
One of the heirs stepped forward and crouched in front of Damian, black and white wings held out in invitation. "Hi, Damian. I'm Dick."
Common chaffinch.
Richard John Grayson. Beta. Eldest heir of the Detective. Taken in after parents' murder, forged an alliance with the heirs of those in the Detective's circle. Valued piece in the Detective's crusade, responsible for the induction of the Core. Ally to the Detective, partner to the Bat.
He nodded slowly, taking note of his Father's behavior. This was strange. League rules would dictate Father introduce himself first, then his heirs, by order of importance.
My beloved's ways differ from our traditions.
"I am...pleased to meet you."
This was not the League.
Damian had no clue what was going on.