Chapter Text
Dick Grayson is bored. Very much so. The sun is setting, Jason is off in Crime Alley doing God know what, Bruce is working, Alfie is cooking. Luckily, he has two more brothers. He remembers Timmy saying he'd be in the library, so he skips to it, humming happily, looking forward to spending time with his little brother. In the library, he finds Tim in front of the fireplace, sitting on the floor with his back against an armchair, staring at the fire.
"Hey Timmy! Whatcha doing?" he chirps happily. Tim doesn't tear his eyes away from the fire.
"Praying" he answers. He doesn't sound offended or annoyed that he was interrupted, but he knows better than to interrupt someone's prayer.
"Oh! Sorry, I'll leave you to it." Dick turns around and walks out, leaving Tim to his spirituality. He's still not used to having a religious person in the house, and Tim has been around for years.
Instead, he heads to his new brother's room. Damian is still new to the family, still a bit prickly, but Dick is bored and Damian could benefit from some bonding time. He foregoes knocking, knowing he'll probably have to force the bonding time. He swings the door open happily.
"Hey, Dames, how-?" he pauses to catch a dagger thrown his way.
"My Witch! You startled me, Grayson!" he scoffs. Dick looks around. Damian is on his knees on the floor, right in the middle of the room, facing a blank wall. His weapons are all laid out behind him, and in front of him is an empty stone bowl.
"Sorry. Uh... What are you doing?" he asks, genuinely curious. Damian has been around for only a couple days, and he knows next to nothing about the boy.
"Praying, please get out of here." the answer surprises Dick. He didn't think Damian would be religious. He'll have to ask about it later, to make sure he doesn't accidentally offend his newest brother.
"Oops! Sorry!" He sets the dagger down on Damian's desk and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
Dick walks to the kitchen and leans against the doorframe.
"Hey, Alfie?"
"Yes, Master Dick?"
"Were you aware Damian is religious?"
"Oh? No, I was not aware. Perhaps during dinner we should ask him about it. We wouldn't want to offend him."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. I accidentally interrupted the prayers of both my religious brother, in one day. Dang."
"Maybe you should knock next time."
"I will."
Dick helped Alfred set the table, and everyone sits in their places. Bruce sits at the head of the table, Jason to his left and Dick to his right. Next to Jason sits Damian, and next to Dick sits Tim. Dick respectfully waits to eat until Tim's pre-meal short prayer is done. The family eats in silence for a few minutes before Dick speaks.
"So, apparently Timmy is not the only religious one anymore." his words seem to pause time as everyone processes the meaning behind them. Bruce turns to Damian.
"Tell us about your religion, son. If you feel comfortable telling us, that is. We just don't want to accidentally offend you. We want to accommodate your spiritual necessities." he prompts. Damian remains silent for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts.
"It's not a conventional religion."
"That's ok. Neither is mine." Tim assures. "Take it from me, they don't judge, and neither do I. We just want to accommodate you. For example, my room is currently being remodeled to have a fireplace so I can pray privately. What do you need?"
"Well, I- I pray multiple times a day."
"Do you need anything specific for it?"
"No. I mean, yes, sometimes. It depends on the prayer. But I can handle it, they're small things that I already have."
"Ok. How about space? Are you comfortable praying in your room, or would you prefer to have a separate space for your religion? You could have one of the study rooms. There's one across from your room." Bruce offers
"I... I'd like that."
"It's yours, then. We will not enter it."
"Thank you."
"So, what God do you pray to?"
"None. I pray to Witches."
"Oh. That's interesting. How does that work?"
"I believe Witches to be an extension of Nature herself."
"What about Halloween? Is it offensive? Should we avoid it?" Jason asks. He hopes not. He likes Halloween.
"No, it's fine. Just try to avoid painting Witches in an evil light."
"We will watch our words and be careful with decorations. Anything witch-related will have to get your approval first."
"Thank you."
"Is there anything else we should know? Anything else we can help with?"
"Actually, there is." He turns to Bruce. "Animals are highly important to me. Is there any way I could have pets?"
"Yes, of course! Actually, this was meant to be a surprise, but a puppy is scheduled to be brought tomorrow. As a welcome gift."
"Really!?"
"Yes. Although, Witches are most often depicted with cats, are they not? Would you like to get a cat, too?"
"Yes! Yes, please. Cats are very important to me. In the League, purposely harming a cat was considered high treason and was punishable by death."
"That, I can get behind." Tim shrugs. There's a chorus of agreement. At least that's one kind of life the League of Assassins respected.
"Very well, Damian. Would you like to go to the shelter tomorrow, pick out a kitten?"
"I'd like that. Thank you, Father."
The next morning comes around with a lot of excitement. Damian wakes up early, and, as always, the first thing he does is pray. However, today is an important day. So, he grabs his dagger and stone bowl and heads to his new praying room. He sets them in the middle of the room, and sinks to his knees before them. He touches his forehead to the ground before his materials.
"Daughters of Nature, Witches of the Wild. I call upon your strength for a new day, upon your guidance for a new beginning."
Damian sits up on his heels, takes the dagger reverently, and slices his left palm, letting his blood drip into his stone bowl. He carefully sets down the dagger beside it, and squeezes his palm slightly to let more blood drip down.
"My Witch, My Lion Witch. I pray for your guidance to pick today the cat who needs it most. I offer my blood as a sign of my devotion, and just like I give you my blood, I will give your creatures my respect and care for as long as they shall live. I will accept any and all punishment you deem fitting, should I fail to provide a loving space for the creatures under my care. May I help those who need it most and welcome your creatures into my home."
As he finishes his prayer, he sets the bloodied dagger on top of the stone. Damian shudders as he hears a soft rumble that seems to come from all around him, to envelop him with its soothing sound. He feels a tingling in his palm, and when he wipes the blood, he finds the cut fully healed. He smiles, running his fingers along the fresh scar.
"Thank you, my Witch."
Damian taps his head to the ground for a couple seconds again, finishing his prayer. Then he slowly stands up and leaves the room, closing it with the key his father gave him. He sits at the table little after the sun comes out.
"Good morning, Damian."
"Good morning, father." he greets. He acknowledges Dick and Jason as they greet him too.
"Where's Timmers?" Dick asks.
"Probably still praying. You know he prays at sunrise and sundown." Jason answers.
"Oh yeah. I forgot. Do you have any specific praying times, Damian?"
"Not really, I do not. I pray when I wake up and before bed, and many times in between. I pray many times a day, but not on a schedule."
"Good to know. Are you excited to get your pets?"
"Very much so."
"Good, the puppy should arrive any minute now." comes Tim's voice from the hallway. "And good morning."
"Morning, Timmy!" as usual, Dick is the first to greet his brother. "Peaceful prayer time?"
"Yes. How about you, Damian?"
"It was... productive." Damian replies, his lips curling in a faint smile as he looks at his healed scar.
"Good. It's nice having another person around with strong beliefs." Tim smiles, trying to ruffle his little brother's hair. Damian slaps his hand away, though, and Tim doesn't quite mind. Tim's phone chimes. "Oh, puppy's here."
The excitement felt in the house is palpable as everyone rushes to the driveway, but they let Damian through first. Damian, prickly, serious and violent as he may be, rushes out the door to meet the puppy. A man comes out of a car, and Damian slows back down to his proper, elegant walk.
"Hello. I am Damian Wayne, I'll be the one receiving the dog today."
"Hello, I'm Matt. This is a very special pup you're getting today."
"How so?"
"This particular puppy was returned to me because he was adopted by a hunter, but he was too friendly with other animals. The guy tried even starving the poor pup to get some aggression, but even then, he's just too nice. He's only five months old, at this age it shouldn't have been hard to mold his personality, but he doesn't have a mean bone in his little body. And don't worry, I made sure to get the guy blacklisted from any adoption sites and breeders in this and nearby cities."
"Well, that's great. I am planning on getting a kitten."
"I assure you, this little guy will give you no trouble with the critter." Matt grins, opening the back door. A little black puppy jumps straight into Damian's arms.
"Well, hello, boy." Damian smiles, scratching the puppy's ear. The fresh scar in his left palm tingles as he pets the dog.
Bruce takes over talking to Matt, allowing Damian to focus solely on his new puppy, who stares at him with all the love and devotion in the world.
"Do you like the name Titus?" he whispers. The puppy licks his face, tail wagging wildly, and Damian's palm tingles with approval. Damian rests his forehead against the pup's, closes his eyes and whispers "Thank you, My Witch."
Hours go by in a blur, with Damian and Titus exploring the manor together. Titus sticks to Damian's side like glue, trotting to keep up with his new master's steps. During Damian's prayers, Titus sits next to him, watching curiously, his little head tilted to the side. Titus seems to know it is Damian who he belongs to now. He's friendly with the rest of the family, but is already loyal to Damian. Soon enough, it's time to go to the shelter. Damian prays again before leaving. It is almost impossible to leave Titus at home, though, so they end up taking him in the car with them.
The shelter is spacious and well cared for, but full. Damian hands Titus to Jason and heads into the shelter with Tim, Dick and their father. They're led to the cat section, and Damian feels like he's in a sacred space with so many cats. He takes a deep breath, feeling his Witch's presence through the felines'. He walks down the aisles of cats. They're all adorable, in all sizes, colors, and with every possible personality. However, as he looks into the yellow eyes of a black-and-white kitten, he feels the familiar rumble all around him, and the warm, tingling sensation in his new scar. He approaches the kitten, as if in a trance, his breath knocked out of his lungs. The kitten approaches the door of its kennel, too, its eyes not leaving Damian's. It seems to grow more confident by the second. Damian presses his scarred palm against the thin metal bars, and the kitten itself licks the mark in his hand, not breaking eye contact. This is a sign, if he's ever seen one. This is the kitten His Witch wants him to take home.
"I take it you've made your choice?" the shelter worker asks
"Yes. I'll take this one home."
"Oh, thank God. He's just a baby, only five months, but he's been in and out of the shelter too many times. One family returned him because they found out their kid was allergic. Another, because their established pets didn't accept him. Another, because their spoiled brat wanted a pure-bred cat. Things like that, never his fault. But he was going to be put down first thing tomorrow. Please don't return him."
"I won't. I will care for him, forever."
The worker opens the kennel door and Damian takes the kitten into his arms. The feline presses his forehead against Damian's, both closing their eyes. Damian whispers a prayer of gratitude to the Lion Witch, his Witch, and swears to take care of his new companions forever. The familiar replying rumble envelops him, and he knows he is heard. The kitten climbs onto his shoulders, and rubs against his face before laying down wrapped around his neck.
"You look like you have a tuxedo on, like Pennyworth." Damian chuckles "Perhaps I should call you Alfred." he muses. The resounding purr is not only the cat's, but the Witch's familiar one, too. "Alfred it is. Alfred the Cat."