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When Talia had taken Damian away, away from Camp, from the demigods, towards Gotham, he had not been relinquished easily.
The girl that Talia had practically raised alongside her son had always been determined, and that had only grown in the past years, to something fiery. Unwieldy. Unyielding. She had become a woman - a soldier, a fighter, a survivor. Likewise, her son had turned into something she didn't recognise - part demigod, part human, all warrior, with an understanding of what happened beneath the veil.
Annabeth had become strong, and it was her grip that stopped Talia from entering the border, her eyes that pinned her in place, and her words, that fell slow and deliberate with every syllable, that froze Talia's heart.
Her father had warned her not to make promises on the River Styx. Before he was corrupted - or had he always been corrupted? - and throughout her years, Talia tried her best to make good of her limited knowledge. The River Styx was - is - an entity older than Time, and those who made oaths on her waters rarely made their way back out. To swear on the River Styx was to swear yourself to Them, and to swear yourself to Them was a fate worse than Death.
Talia did it anyways, because she needed Damian and Damian needed his father.
She will never regret the words that fell from her lips, because she had been scared - she had been scared - that if she didn't have a reason to, she would leave Damian alone, like her father did - kind and loving and there in the early days, and gone once she turned twenty. She vowed to herself that she wouldn't ever do that to Damian - she left behind everything for him, it would make no sense to abandon him, she reasoned - but to have it sworn on someone else, a looming threat over her head, it made her relieved, to know that she had to do anything she could to protect him.
(Failure ran in both families, after all, godly or mortal, mother or father.)
I swear on the River Styx that I will do my best to protect him from all, at all costs, from Death if need be.
She felt the promise settle deep into her bones, a ringing promise. She did not need a thunderclap to know that it had woven into her very being, the dark, intangibility of the Styx, colourless only because there was no name for the promise it held.
And Talia...
Talia al Ghul had failed many times before.
This failure is the worst.
Because she had not known what was coming, didn't dig deep enough to uncover the other plot - had to watch as the life drained out of those green-gray eyes and think, horrified, no, because despite everything - running away, stashing him, keeping him from her even though it broke her heart - despite everything, she still failed him.
She knows punishment is coming soon, and that she should be worried - she is Talia al Ghul, Daughter of the Demon's Head, Heir to the League of Assassins, no matter how hard Ra's tries to disown her, and a simple promise should not have broken her so - should not have been such a threat.
The promise did not break her. Her son's death did.
She sits on the bed, in one of the strongholds taken from her father. There is ash and dust and broken marble from the battle. A distraction - it was all a distraction. She sits on the bed, numbly, watching as the aura of Death grows stronger around her, until there is a shape, a figure, in the ash.
Her son had acquired the gift, too. To See. Everything that happened around him, anything that was out of the ordinary. They were both in tune with nature in the way that Ra's had lost decades ago.
The shape is not taller than her. It resembles her, in a way that smoke does, invisible to everyone but her, and it does not make her feel small. Talia has not felt cowed in a long time. Not until now, faced with the evidence that she failed her son, because Styx is here to bring her to justice.
Justice. Bruce would like that.
If he was not so busy grieving another son.
The figure does not speak with lips or throat. Their words fall over the room with a hush, like formless air, drifting this way and that, but all around her. Their words are condemning and powerful in a way only gods can be.
Talia al Ghul.
They speak out loud, and at the same time only in her mind. She does not look up, does not meet the figure in the eyes, but she sees the way the shadows pool to the floor and swallow everything in their path.
She isn't afraid.
She is just...tired. Sad. Heartbroken.
Grieving.
You swore an oath, the Styx intones, heavy, to protect him at all costs.
"I swore to protect him from all, at all costs, from Death if need be," she corrects. Her voice is hoarser than intended. It comes out flat.
The Styx does not move. They float with all the care or uncare in the world. A low, melodic tune starts to fill the room, as if Their rendition of humming in thought.
Do you think you have fulfilled this promise?
Talia looks up for the first time - the Styx sounds...inquisitive. No threats of death or just death. No taking of souls. No reaping. "No," she admits. Her hands are red, red with all the blood that she has killed over the years but redder with the blood that's yet to dry. She failed.
The Styx continues Their strange humming.
Both you and Annabeth Chase think so, They muse, and yet I wonder. I wonder.
"If I'm ready to face my punishment?" Talia supplies drily. The Styx does not laugh, but the darkness coils into amusement.
If you require punishment at all.
Talia starts; she shakes her head, looks at the red seeping into her green robes. "Of course I do. I failed him."
You failed him the way all mothers do, the Styx tells her, the way that all children will Hate and Love their mothers in equal regard, the same way a son will grudge a mother for her protectiveness, or a daughter begrudging a father for scaring a lover away. You have failed him in the way that his father has failed him, that everyone around him has failed, simply not by listening. It is impossible not to.
"I am not a normal mother," Talia murmurs. "My failure costs him his life, not a petty grudge."
But it is the same failure, is it not? He is your son; you are a mother. Just as I am.
"You bear children?"
They are struck from history, They tell her, but like all immortals, I come from something, and for one as old as me, I also make something. Erased by the king, my children roam the Earth in the form of shadows, weapons, water. They come when I call. They are mine as Damian is yours.
Was, Talia corrects in her head.
My children are immortal, but I still mourn them, Styx says, and Their voice is as gentle as a god's can be. The same way you mourn your son. His lost childhood. His lost years.
"Why do you drag out my punishment, god?" Talia asks tiredly. "I am prepared to face whatever you have for me, Styx."
No thunder rumbles outside. Why should it, when a storm is already brewing right here?
That is the question, Styx muses, voice a hundred shades darker, what should I do?
"What?"
As a mother, I feel your guilt - your willingness to accept some all of the blame instead of the modicum you already have. Whether or not you deserve it is an entirely different matter. As far as I am concerned, your part of the Oath has been fulfilled, but both oath-makers feel differently. So I am stuck in a dilemma. Tell me, child, why do you not follow your father?
The sudden change in topic makes Talia start - looks directly into the Styx's shadowy eyes but doesn't back down, the question ringing in her ears.
"My father lost his way many years ago," Talia says finally. "He has been corrupted by the Lazarus Pits. I cannot, in right mind, follow a man who is willing to give up his flesh and blood for a conquest that has not yet succeeded."
Do you think he will?
"Perhaps, if I had not taken action. If I had not dismantled what he has." Talia spreads her arms open at the wreckage. "I will not allow him to rule the world in his current state."
And if he regains his mind?
Talia hesitates.
Styx tell her, The Lazarus Pits are made of mine and the other Rivers' waters. A terrifying brew of strength and pain and revival. Down there, it would make the user unstoppable. Up here, the effects are diminished, but the waters are still mine. Whoever enters the waters and returns is born anew and given a new name. Given Our mark. They are Ours. You are Ours.
The Lethe offers them a blank slate, to wipe it clean and start anew. All who enter are changed, some for better, most for worse. Jason Todd was changed for worse. Your son for better. You, Talia, are one of the few who stay the same.
Your father has become addicted to Our waters - takes in Our essence greedily and lets it fester in his heart. He is more dead than alive, now. He is lost, Talia al Ghul. Do not hold hopes that he will return to his original state.
"I lost hope the minute he held my son and saw only a weapon," Talia confesses quietly.
The Styx hums. There is rushing of air, crushing darkness, for only a second, and they are not in wreckage or ash or smoke anymore, but someplace darker.
Listen carefully, child, for I will not repeat it, the Styx says. Talia blinks at their new surroundings. Dark, bleak, Death, there is only one place they can be.
You claim to have failed, and I am willing to take you for your word. But you are Mine. I am more than a goddess - I came before the gods, and the Titans, even the primordials. I was created before Tartarus - I saw him rise from the abyss and take form. I have seen the world begin, and I will be here when it ends, waiting.
Those who swear on my name are bound to me as I am bound to them. You are sworn to do anything by your son. I am honour-bound to oblige you.
So the deal is this, Daughter of the Demon's Head. Walk through my waters. It will be your first trial of many. If you succeed all five, you will have the means to obtain your son's soul again.
Talia's breath catches. "What?"
I only offer this once, and only because of the circumstances, Styx warns. Their form is no longer in the air. Talia whips around and see the River, rippling slightly. My sisters may not be as obliging. Should you succeed, you will have the means to raise your son, and you will have done all you can to protect him, from everything, at all costs, from Death. Your Oath is fulfilled, your son is returned.
Should you fail, your soul will be lost to any one of our Waters, your son gone, and I will stake my claim. If you do not accept this offer, and continue to insist your Oath unfulfilled, then I will come for you when I decide is time, and bestow your punishment upon.
What is your choice?
There is no hesitation.
"I accept."
Very well.
The waters grow unnaturally still.
"Before I do," Talia says, "is there anything you can tell me to help?"
The Styx hums. Almost amused. You are sharp, Daughter of the Demon. Yes, I will help. Three questions - think carefully.
"How do I return from your waters unscathed?" Talia asks.
My waters are called a curse and not a blessing because I am the River of Strength. I test everything about you. I am the only true value of worthiness, and even then, I do not reward you for it. I am your judge, jury, and executioner. To swear on my name is to test you. Few have been found worthy. Achilles was one. Perseus Jackson another.
I am not like my sister, the Lethe. They are the River of Memories, made from it. They take them whether or not they are given. But even then, it is a mercy, for if you were to fall into any of the others, you would never escape.
I strip you bare. I take everything you are - your vulnerability, your pain, your life, if you will let me have it. I show you what it is like to truly, honestly, live - what it takes to be worthy, to pass through my waters. It is your decision to drown to death or emerge stronger. If you fight me well enough, if you fight for yourself, for everything you have, I give it back to you. I return you to a state that is worthy of your deeds, your character.
"Are the other tests to walk through the other four Rivers?"
Indeed. The Styx sounds pleased. Yes. In order to walk through them, you must persuade my sisters to allow you a chance to prove yourself, for I am the only river that other mortals, even half, have been able to exit unscathed. Only children of Death have been allowed in the Lethe before - a few exceptions for immortals, of course, and the son of Poseidon, but should you be able to persuade them, you will have to find a way to navigate them. To help you, I offer you this piece of information -
Together, the Rivers - Hate, Memories, Misery, Pain, Sin - we are what makes up humanity. We are your worst sides, but we are also other. To Hate is to be able to Love, and I test how Strong your Desire is. To Forget is to Remember, to Lament is to Rejoice, to Hurt is to Heal, and to Sin is to Forgive. We were not always like this, two sides of humanity, but as it evolves, as you evolve, as the barriers between mortal and immortal and living and dead grow thinner, so do we. I was not always so merciful, and They were not always so unforgiving. Whatever pain you will experience soon is nothing compared to Their Waters.
"How will the Rivers give me the means to bring him back?" Talia breathes. There can be no loopholes.
As the strongest boundary between living and dead, I am the closest to a gateway you will find. My waters are clear and seeing, despite the lives they have taken, and if you bare yourself open, your Love and Hate and Strength, it will reward you. Usually, you are rewarded through invulnerability - the closest thing to godhood - but if you wish for something else, I believe it will grant the wish. Be forewarned, I am unable to raise a soul. I am merely a River, no death god - I cannot give you a soul no more than you can give me immortality. But the souls in my river are ages old and have spent aeons waiting, listening. They may show you a way, if you keep your wits with you and bargain well. They are not kind, or good - they manipulate. They are Hateful. Do not trust them.
Every River will bestow upon you a vial of pure, undiluted, Water. I do not know how they will be used, but I know that they are key in the process of raising him - it must be earned, through the trial, so you must not lose them. I know that combined together they can draw a soul from the Underworld and create a body, but the order of which you must add them in, or how, I am lost. This is dangerous knowledge - I doubt even Hades is aware of it. The souls inside will know.
Talia breathes in deeply. She starts to shed her armour, wearing the lightest clothes possible. She takes off the necklace - the leather necklace with clay beads that knock together, kisses the beads, and places it by the riverside.
Be strong, she tells herself.
Hold the wish close to your heart, for that is what I test, and you will not lose it. Let go, and you will emerge bearing my Curse, the Styx intones, if you emerge at all.
"I will." Talia's fists clench. "I must."
As she dives in, she thinks that the feeling emanating from the River is something of approval.