Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all began when Damian had been in the middle of a lesson.

His instructor was a middle aged man with a cruel disposition; harsh in his teachings and quick to anger. He had only just become Damian's new instructor after the last one had been disposed of in a wayward mission.

The man was currently looming over Damian, watching with a critical eye as the boy moved through his katas, unhesitant to correct Damian with a swift hit whenever he showed the slightest bit of faltering. Damian gritted his teeth as he extended his leg at the awkward angle, the move not seeming quite right with his short limbs. His other leg that was planted firmly on the ground began to shake from the strain, making Damian wobble a bit, but he was quick to tense the muscles and fix his posture.

This fact didn't stop his instructor from sneering, and a quick slap struck Damian’s back as the man spoke in a clipped voice, “Wrong. Do it again.”

Clenching his jaw to stop a frustrated groan from escaping, Damian quickly reverted to the form from the beginning of the set. He learned in the early days of his training that public displays of exasperation were not taken kindly by instructors in the league. It would only make the lesson more difficult.

Just as he was beginning to make the first move again, the noise of purposeful footsteps sounded from outside the training room. Damian's instructor glared at the doorway as he made a motion to halt the boy from continuing the kata. He began to stalk forward, preparing to scold whoever was being this loud, but Damian already knew. He had memorized those steps ever since he was a child.

As soon as his Mother appeared in the arched doorway, his teacher's eyes widened and he took a hesitant step back before entering a deep bow. Damian followed in his lead, though his bow was not as low.

Talia slowed her steps as she came upon the teacher and student, stopping as soon as she was in front of Damian. “You're dismissed,” she said while vaguely gesturing to the instructor.

The man gave a quick, “Yes Ms. Al Ghul,” before scurrying out of the room and leaving the mother and son alone.

“Rise Damian.”

Damian lifted his head and met the piercing gaze of his Mother. The green in her eyes swirled as she looked at him and Damian tried not to shiver when he noticed the calculative look in them. It had been roughly five months since he had last seen her, during which Damian had not accomplished anything impressive, so he had nothing in mind for what this unexpected visit could mean.

Talia tilted her head slightly and gave a dull hum, “You are still quite young, only nine years of age… but we do not have the time to wait.”

This made his brows furrow, “Wait? Wait for what Mother?”

“Your presentation Damian. The Demon’s Head is getting impatient,” though she hid it well, there was a hint of stress lining her words.

“Will I... will I not present at 14?” Damian resisted the urge to fidget, keeping his arms still by his side, fists clenched, “That is the average age to present, is it not?”

Talia’s eyes softened around the edges and she dropped to one knee, putting her hands on both of Damian's shoulders as she leveled her gaze with his, “Yes Habibi, but your Grandfather, he grows restless. I would have you stay a pup if it were up to me, but he wants you on a strict training regime that requires your status to be known. We've.. we have found a way to onset the presentation process."

Damian worried his bottom lip between his teeth, taking a few seconds to process her words. A sense of wrongness filled him at the thought of no longer being a pup. Why did he need to present? What was wrong with continuing on as he was?

He could barely keep up with his studies as is, having only just gotten good enough to avoid punishment for falling behind. If he were to present and be put into a harder training regime, it would only lead to more discipline if he was unable to keep up. It would lead to more pain. More disappointment.

Damian didn't want that, but... but no, no he was an Al Ghul, he should be used to pain. It was an honor to be disciplined, to learn from his mistakes. He was the Heir to the Demon’s Head, how could he be unwilling to progress as swiftly as possible?

Ignoring the bubbling pit of anxiety in his stomach, Damian steeled his gaze and nodded, “I understand, it is my duty to the league and the Al Ghul name to advance my training.”

He had thought his words would bring pride to his Mother, but instead it brought out a deep sadness in her expression that confused Damian. Is this not what she was asking of him? Why would his obedience sadden her?

Talia took a deep breath in before letting out a forlorn sigh, “Indeed it is.”

She raised her hands to embrace his face, and Damian felt his breath hitch. Her thumbs traced his cheekbones and he stilled, fearing his movement would make her stop. Something deep inside of him was preening at the rarely shown affection. Talia leaned down and gave a soft kiss to his forehead, bringing a hand up to his hair and smoothing down the messy strands. He instantly became self-conscious of his disheveled appearance but that was washed away as soon as a floral scent of lotus, mixed with nutmeg, filled the air and embraced Damian.

The boy reveled in it, subconsciously producing a deep purr that started at the bottom of his chest and worked its way up. A subtle milky scent filled the air in response.

But just as quickly as it was given, the affection was taken back.

With a small pat to his still pudgy cheek, Talia abruptly stood up and turned around, hurriedly walking away. “Come Damian, we must go to the labs.”

Damian felt the purr die instantly.

The labs.

He hated the labs.

He did not truly know what had happened in his younger years, only able to recall a few fuzzy memories, but just thinking of the horrid place filled him with dread. Vague memories of being poked and prodded, cut open in some instances, for physical enhancements his mother said. The sudden shooting of pain in his limbs, fighting against a hand holding him down, clawing futilely at the muscled arm. A growl of an alpha as he was forcibly subdued, unable to move. Feeling his lungs become unnaturally compressed, unable to breathe.

Damian hated the labs.

“Damian.”

The cold voice of his Mother snapped him back to the present.

Right, that didn't matter now. He had a duty to fulfill. He quickly fell in step behind his Mother, having to stay in a semi sprint to match her long strides. He lowered his eyes as they continued forward, already knowing the route, and watched as the embroidered bottom of his Mother's green robes fluttered over her grey hashimi dress.

His eyes lifted and he took note of the way she walked, elegance in her every step. Although dressed more subtly than usual, she still exuded that venomous regal air that all the Al Ghul’s held. Damian lifted his chin and tried to copy her elegant movements as they walked through the winding hallways of the compound, hoping he embodied half of the regality she had.

As they continued on, Damian began to ponder.

What would he present as?

Daring to look at his Mother again, he tried to take note of anything that gave away her status. She was an alpha and so was Grandfather. As far as Damian was aware, all Al Ghul's had been alphas.

He nodded his head confidently. He will be an alpha.

If not?

Well…

A beta would be the next best choice. An omega,,, Damian did not want to think about it.

Mother had told him long ago about the league hierarchy. How they were what people called traditionalists. Grandfather held alpha's to the highest standard and they therefore had the highest rankings. If you were an alpha in the league, it was without a doubt that you would be trained to be an assassin.

The training mainly focused on ways to harness their instincts. How to dominate any field they stood in, even from the shadows. How to oppress weaker opponents with their pheromones, with their commands. While a person in a pack would be less likely to actually follow through with any commands due to the nature of pack bonds, it could still lead to a moment of hesitancy that allowed for a swift execution. Along with this, brutal acts of violence were rewarded and one's dominance over another was how they moved up in rank. Mother said it was a savage and ruthless system, but the rewards and the recognition gained in the higher ranks appealed to an alpha's pride, making the risk worth it.

Betas in the league were more typically used for espionage missions. They were taught to be more subtle in their ways. While an alpha assassin was used to send a message, to brutally tear up the target, beta assassins were used to gather information, to sow seeds of doubts in their targets, and tear an organization apart from the inside out.

While they did not often get the natural glory of an alpha, they could still become well respected enough in the league if they garnered enough feats under their belt. In fact, a good majority of Damian’s teachers were such beta’s. They were more patient in their training, better equipped to handle an inexperienced pup. He had to be extra careful around his alpha instructors, for they flew off the handle more often than not when faced with failure in their disciples.

Omegas, however, were never assassins. In fact, there were very few omegas in the league. They were the servants, caretakers of the young, the cooks, the gardeners, the ones who maintained the bases instead of defending them. They had their place in the league and it was to cater to their masters.

Mother said Grandfather was ridiculous for keeping this system in place.

Damian had overheard her say it once, slinking in the shadows as he watched with wide eyes as she wrecked her office in a fit of rage. She had trained a young omega girl behind Grandfather's back, sharpening her into a weapon she claimed to be more deadly than even a well trained alpha. Mother had taught her how to use her pheromones to subdue others, make them fall for her meek act, fall for the comfort of an omega, before brutally stabbing them in the back.

After all, who would suspect a poor weak omega?

Mother had claimed excitedly that they could train a group of omegas and make them the deadliest assassins in the league. She believed that this would set their enemies off balance, make it harder to calculate and predict the movements of the league from an outside view. She had sent the young girl out on a mission. The assassination of a prime minister from a random country who had become a bit of a pain, sticking his nose in places he had no business being in.

The girl had returned successful. It elated Mother. She had triumphantly stormed into Grandfather’s office with the news, revealing what she had been doing in secret. Proving to him that his ways were outdated, that they could be progressing faster if he simply conceded to her new plans.

It didn't end well.

Grandfather did not take kindly to the perceived blatant disrespect. Damian still did not know exactly what happened or how it went down, but there was supposedly a public execution held for the omega girl.

That night had been the first time Damian had ever seen his Mother lose her temper. The first time he had ever seen her curse Grandfather's name out loud. It was the first time he had ever given a second doubt to Grandfather’s ways. The first time he-

“Umphf-” Damian let out a surprised noise as he ran into his Mother's leg. She looked down at him with a raised eyebrow and he felt an embarrassed burning sensation take over his face. Damian scurried a small distance away and straightened himself out, dusting nonexistent dust off his training robes. He braced himself for a scolding but was surprised when Mother simply let out another sigh and turned back to the doors they had stopped at. “We have arrived.”

The forgotten dread rushed back into Damian's body and he nodded as he tried to mentally stamp the unwanted feeling back down.

As they entered the room, Damian took note of the eerily sterile white walls and beeping machinery scattered about. Worst of all was the distinct smell of disinfectant that oozed off every surface in the room. There were a few people meandering about, most likely working on the next experiment issued by the league. That experiment being him now, he supposed.

A man in pristine white doctor robes spotted them and grinned brightly when he locked eyes with Damian. From the calming pheromones he was purposefully secreting, Damian naturally assumed he was a beta. The man came close and lowered himself down in front of Damian, probably a tactic to try and soothe him, but it felt demeaning. The skin on the back of his neck prickled at the eager gaze on the man's face.

Damian did not feel comforted like when Mother had knelt before him. Instead, he felt scared as this unknown man leaned towards him with his wide smile, too straight teeth, and overwhelming smell of syrupy sweetness.

“Are you ready for your first injection my little prince?”

Chapter Text

Damian… did not enjoy the process of presenting early.

All the belongings he used daily had been relocated to the lab, where he was to stay during the time it took to complete this experiment. The doctors said it was to make it more convenient to monitor his vitals and catch any irregularities. They wouldn't have to travel all the way to his room to check up on him, and they would be able to catch any shift that happened while he slept.

Damian did not like this fact.

It was not pleasant to stay in the lab.

He wanted to go hide in his quarters. He would not admit this, however, as they would think him weak. Damian was not weak.

A hand began to pat his back, landing near his neck. That immediately snapped him out of his thoughts and he whipped his head up to glare at the offender.

“Good job Damian, you didn't even flinch when the needle went in!” Dr. Zayd, the main beta doctor who had first greeted him in this horrid place, had just finished with the injection. Damian waited until the needle was fully out before hopping off the tall counter he had been put on, relieved to be rid of the man's hand. He heavily disliked it when Dr. Zayd would try to give comforting pats. It always left the syrupy scent of the beta lingering on him for ages.

He glowered at the floor as the man flitted about, putting away his medical tools and throwing out the needle. His nose scrunched as the man's pheromones spread out around them with every move he made. Such an overbearing smell. It was disgraceful for an Al Ghul to bear the scent of another, and Damian could not tell for certain if the man was doing this on purpose.

On one hand, he could be taunting Damian, knowing that the boy would be scolded if his Mother ever caught a whiff of someone else's scent lingering on him.

On the other hand, it could be a subconscious act from the man. After all, Damian did not hold a bond. Although he was an Al Ghul, he was not in the Al Ghul pack. Simply because it didn't exist. Grandfather thought it to be a lowly thing and Mother thought it would make others believe they were weak. So as soon as Damian was capable of being on his own, she severed their natural bond.

Which led him back to Dr. Zayd. The man kept trying to subtly scent him. While it could be malicious, Damian had once read in a book on human studies that unbonded pups could make those who have already presented unknowingly let out their pheromones. It was a natural phenomenon to make sure all pups could find a pack, regardless of what happened to their original one. However, this man would never be allowed to bring Damian into his pack, ever. It was disgraceful to even signify such an action.

Regardless, Damian decided to look past the scenting for now, as the man’s subconscious was most likely controlling these subtle movements. He felt pity for him. Letting your base instincts control your actions without realizing was just simply uncouth. Grandfather would have Damian punished if he ever acted in such a way.

“Awww,” the sound of cooing snapped Damian's attention back to Dr. Zayd, “You must be tired my little prince, you're not complaining about me putting the band-aid on your arm.”

Damian looked down, eyes widening. Indeed, there was a small square patch on his upper arm. This made him furrow his brows, how hadn't he noticed? Dr. Zayd apparently found his actions amusing, as the man gave a deep chuckle and lightly ruffled Damian's hair, “What a daze you are in, let's get you to bed.”

Never mind, Damian did not pity this man, in fact he should tell on him. How dare he coo at Damian and pat his head as if he were some random pup! The audacity! The disrespect! “Cease your nonsense! I was not dazing, I was going over my lessons from the day,” Damian fibbed, looking up at the man and bringing himself to his full height. He tried to glare with all the intimidation his little body could muster.

It was no use, in fact, it made the doctor laugh harder, “Alright little prince, let us retire for the night, you've had a long day.”

Damian let out an indignant huff before storming off to his cot. He had to maneuver through the whole lab, as his resting area was tucked away in the farthest corner. It was hidden behind a large machine that would occasionally let out high pitched beeps and flash a green or red light. He didn't know what purpose it held other than to cause Damian great misery on nights sleep fled from him. He had on multiple occasions tried to find a way to turn it off with no success. Whatever. It didn't matter to Damian (it mattered a lot, he wanted that machine dead, not caring that the hunk of metal was an inanimate object).

Damian had washed up after his last meal of the day and was ready to go straight to bed. He had already changed into his nightwear, which was a set of loose fitting clothes made out of cotton. They were white, just like everything else in the lab. It didn't make sense to him why he was made to wear them when he already had a set of night robes. It must be to torture Damian with how uncomfortably scratchy they were. When he asked, a doctor told him it was the standard procedure for every patient who stayed in the lab long term. Surely they could have made an exception for Damian.

They didn't. It was just another thing he added to his long list of hatred for this place.

Dr. Zayd arrived by his side moments after Damian managed to climb into his bed and tuck himself in. He gave Damian a warm smile as he sat down on the stool by his cot, taking off his black rimmed glasses and stowing them in his coat pocket.

“You're doing very well Damian, in fact you should be on your way to present within the next few weeks or so,” at this, the man gave him a bright smile that looked forced, the grin faltering a bit before dropping all together. Dr. Zayd sighed, slowly shaking his head, eyes focusing on a spot just above Damian. A hand moved up to rub at his temple as he continued on, “It is a shame though. This medicine will definitely help the league train its young better, let them learn their places early on, but..”

He looked down at Damian, now frowning. “But perhaps it is in my personal belief that you are younger than our target goal. You have aided our lab greatly my prince, I only….” his lips pursed as if he had eaten something sour, “Only wish that you could have experienced your pup hood for longer.”

Damian let out a disgruntled sound of shock before schooling his expression. “I do not need to experience such things,” he bristled, “I am heir to the throne, it is in my best interest to present as quickly as possible. You are a laughable man to mourn the loss of my pup status.” With that, Damian let out a ‘humphf’ and turned to rest on his side, his back facing the doctor.

He couldn't see it, but a look of sorrow crossed the man's face as he gazed at Damian’s small figure curled up in the middle of the bed.

“Of course my prince. My apologies for even insinuating such a thing. You will make a wonderful alpha, but for now, let us retire for the night.”

With that, Dr. Zayd got up and turned off whatever lights he could in the room. His movements were quick and methodical, having done this every night ever since Damian was forced to reside in the lab. Before leaving, he once again returned to Damian's side. He felt the man's hand comb through his hair slowly, tucking short strands of hair away from where they had fallen in front of his face during his dramatic turn.

“Good night young one. May you sleep well.”

And with that, he was gone from Damian's side.

It took a few moments for his footsteps to fully fade away in the echoing building that was the lab, but soon enough, Damian heard the faint click of the front doors and knew he was alone. Huffing out a frustrated breath, Damian turned onto his back and stared up at the blank ceiling. It was silent in the lab, only interrupted by the beep of that infuriating machine by his bed. After a few long moments of this, he swiftly sat up and shuffled to the edge, beginning to slowly inch off the cot.

His feet eventually hit the ground and Damian took a moment to appreciate the white socks he was wearing. They were made of the same itchy cotton as his lab pajamas but at least they were a layer between his feet and the cold stone floors. Damian crept through the lab until he reached the wide industrial sinks situated near the area he had gotten his injections. He looked at them, annoyed by their height, before rolling up his sleeves and reaching upwards.

His hands closed around the edge and he lifted himself easily, bringing his shins to rest on the sturdy metal. He then began to precariously balance himself on the edge, leaning forward to turn on the faucet. Water rushed out of the spout and Damian adjusted the knobs to the hot setting before leaning back. He then aptly crawled to the side of the sink and sat on the counter it was attached to.

Idly kicking his legs on each side of the running water (not hitting the bottom of the sink due to how deep the basins were and how short his legs are, something that irked him), he reached forward and grabbed the general use soap that was by the faucet. Steam slowly began to rise from the warming water when it hit the cold air of the lab. Damian waited a few more seconds before taking a deep breath in and bracing himself, quickly dipping his head under the running water.

He flinched slightly at the sudden temperature change, but went to scrub at his hair with one hand while the other brought the soap up and squeezed the bottle over his head.

It didn't matter that the soap wasn't meant to go on hair, Damian wanted that beta’s scent off of him. His eyes stung as the soapy hot water trickled down his face and he quickly shut them, setting the bottle down and using both hands to slowly work his hair clean. The movement reminded him of the soft fingers carding through his hair and he returned to his initial rough pace, furiously scratching at his scalp to make the phantom sensations go away. It sickened Damian.

Sickened him because deep down he could feel himself yearn for the affection. He was weak to it. He enjoyed it. The action comforted him.

Mother would be so disappointed if she found out.

As soon as he rid his hair of all the soap, Damian snapped the faucet off and reached for a clean hand towel that was folded in the cabinets above. He hopped off the counter and cringed a little at the cold ground. His socks had gotten wet in the process, making the walk back to his bed slightly uncomfortable as the cold seeped into his legs. Damian ruffled his hair with the towel, drying it to his best ability, before ducking down underneath the cot and stowing it in the far corner where it wouldn't be seen. He then hopped into the cot, took off his wet socks, and snuggled under his blanket.

A shiver ran through his body as he curled in on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest, arms hugging them tightly.

He hated the cold, he wanted to be back in his own room. He wanted Dr. Zayd’s warm presence in the stool next to his bed.

Damian let out a small whimper, tucking impossibly further in on himself.

He wanted Mother to be here.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“-mian.”

A sharp sting shot through Damian's limbs and he cringed from the pain. His body felt weighed down.

“-hear me?”

Someone.. someone was trying to talk to him. He couldn't focus enough to pay attention to what they were saying. It was too hot. Why was it so hot? He recalled the room to be very cold before sleep had taken him.

Has the lab been compromised?

The thought had Damian trying to sit up from where he was (his cot?) but the attempt was moot as the stinging pain once again shot through his limbs and he fell back down. He let out a pained groan.

“Damian- your eyes? Do you hear me?”

This time the voice was accompanied by a hand roughly shaking his shoulder.

“Le’ go.. uf me..”

Even speaking took a great deal of effort. What was wrong with him?!

“Damian, you went into- earlier than expected- feel a bit groggy right now but- a few hours young prince.” Damian tried to focus on the words, he really did, but it felt as if his ears were stuffed full of cotton. The words were muffled, some completely incomprehensible to his pain-addled mind. The hand gave a comforting squeeze to his shoulder that only made Damian flinch back, the pressure leaving behind a dull ache.

“You are presenting Damian.”

What was the voice talking about? Presenting? That was supposed to be weeks away…

More shooting pain.

This time he let out an audible whimper.

The heat was becoming all encompassing. It felt as if someone was stoking a fire in his chest, letting it spread up into his lungs. It burned. Why did it burn?! He clawed at his neck trying desperately to let the heat out. A firm hand reached out to restrain his wrists and Damian screamed as instead of a dull discomfort like before, the contact felt like a hot iron was branding his skin.

“Damian, calm down.”

Calm down? Calm down?! He was being burned alive!

His body writhed as the hand continued to restrict his movement. Damian tried to kick his attacker but he ended up hitting air, as he still couldn't open his eyes to properly locate the enemy. A snarl was ripped from his throat, a sound Damian didn't know he could produce. Damian tried to scratch the hand but it only made the person tighten their grip.

“Go fetch- with Miss Al- anesthetics now!”

Damian sobbed. It was so hot. It hurt. Why was he hurting? Was this a punishment? Why else-

His line of thought was broken as new pain bloomed in his stomach. His body involuntarily jerked and his sobbing grew louder.

He wanted his Mother, he wanted Dr. Zayd. They would help him, they would stop the pain!

Damian faintly registered the sensation of a small prick at his neck. His neck.. his neck?! Panic surged through him and he began to thrash around more violently. He couldn't let anyone touch his neck, such a vulnerable place had to be protected!

Another set of hands restrain his ankles to the cot.

No! He needed to get out of here, they'd hurt him more! He wouldn't-

He wouldn't.. he.. he would..

Numbness crept down his body and a haze flooded his mind. He tried one last futile time to break free, but it was useless.

He had already lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

Memories of when Damian still held a bond with his Mother were very faint. 

It annoyed him to no end, but as every year passed, he lost more and more details. With them went the affection given to him by his Mother. Those comforting moments were long gone by the time Damian realized he no longer would be treated as a pup by her. All he had now were vague moments that would briefly flash in his mind before being whisked away. He would scramble for them, clinging to the wispy threads of remembrance and holding them dear. 

When he had been six, an instructor for mathematics ingrained in him that repetition helps with keeping information fresh and known. Though this tactic was given to him to memorize complex formulas, Damian often found himself replaying the fragments of his younger years that he could still recall. Those took priority over his studies (something he'd never say out loud unless he lost his mind and wished to be lashed).

Faint things such as sleeping in a den by his Mother's side. He would be curled up, head on her chest, and one of her hands would rub his back soothingly. With one ear pressed against her sternum, he would feel the vibration as she hummed a soft lullaby for his ears only.  Another moment was out in the fields. Sitting in her lap, a heavy book in his, and her finger tracing underneath words she would read aloud to him. It was a moment of teaching, but the warmth of the sun and her arms snuggling around him brought Damian comfort. 

He would replay these two memories in his head whenever he had to endure a punishment. The numbness of an ice bath would be pushed away, the headache of having to hang with his knees from a bar ignored, all in favor of shuffling between those two moments. His mind was too focused on striking down every minute detail to pay attention to the pressure building in his head from blood flow or the creeping sensation of hypothermia.

What made those moments extremely vibrant was when he'd focus on recreating his Mother's earthy scent in his mind. The nutmeg and lotus wiping away the fog and allowing Damian to recall even the littlest things with vivid clarity.

Something he was experiencing now.

Damian took a moment to bask in the calming scent, letting himself go, a moment to drift in the serenity he felt.  He was curious though... his Mother's scent was unusually sharp. While Damian knew it by heart, it was never this strong whenever he would take a moment to imagine it. No.. no this was as if she was physically there.

Damian stiffened.

The haze that was over his mind fell instantly as he began to process his other senses. Someone was holding him close, walking at a brisk pace. This person... no. His Mother, tightened her hold on him.

She must have felt him wake up.

Damian slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was tucked against his Mother in an affectionate hug. His face was laying against her neck, right near her gland. That must be why her scent was so strong. She had one arm under his legs, holding him steady and the other was across his back at an angle, her hand against his head to keep him in place.

What was going on?

This was the most unusual occurrence, Mother hadn't carried him in years! They turned a corner sharply and Damian took in their surroundings. They were in a long hall with a few entryways scattered about and- oh! Damian recognized this hallway! They were in the wing that held Mother's living quarters. She must be heading to her room! 

Damian was proven correct when she abruptly stopped and took her hand off his head to unlock her bedroom door. He didn't have time to celebrate his quick observations, as she dashed to her bed and dropped him on it. With no time to process, Damian let out an embarrassing cry of surprise when he hit the bed. He scrambled to sit up, cheeks ablaze with shame as he tried to make himself orderly. Talia wasted no time checking on him, quickly leaving his side to go about her room. She pulled out drawers from a large wooden desk and began to rummage through it. What was going on?

“Mother?”

No answer.

“Uhm..” Damian scowled at the nervousness in his voice and schooled himself, “Mother? Is something the matter?”

She didn't even turn to glance at him when she answered, “You presented Damian.”

Oh!

He presented! 

Now he could be done with the labs! He could return to his own quarters and be rid of those insufferable injections as well! Dr. Zayd would probably get lonely without Damian to look after, but that was okay! He'd visit the man to keep him company, lord knows that the beta got attached to Damian with how much the man scented him. But that was okay now, he'd show the man that he was a strong alpha and didn't need care or protection! He'd show..! He…

His thoughts stopped.

If he had presented, why was he here? Why was Mother in such a hurry to find something? Why wasn't she congratulating him?

Unless… unless Damian was a beta!

Oh, well. Hm. That was okay. Mother may be disappointed with Damian, but… he was strangely fine with it. Maybe a bit disheartened, but beta’s were still of great use to the league. His training would simply be adjusted to fit their-

“We must hurry Damian. You have to leave.”

Leave? Why? Would Grandfather truly be that upset? That didn't make sense. A beta would probably not make a worthy heir but he could still become a valuable asset. Some of his closest advisors were betas. He voiced these thoughts aloud, “Why must I leave? That... I don't understand.”

Talia turned to him, her scent souring just the slightest, leaving a sense of unease in the air. “You presented Damian!”

Damian's brows furrowed, “Yes?”

“You are an omega.”

What?

An omega?

The room grew quiet for Damian, everything stilling outside of his mind as he tried to process those words. 

An omega… 

Damian couldn't be such a thing. 

It was ridiculous to even think of. It was simply not possible! His Mother was an alpha, so was Grandfather, and he was even told that his Father (which he knew so little about) was also an alpha. So it made no sense that he could end up as an omega! They were… they were useless in the league! Their duties were so below Damian, how could he, the Demon's Heir, be one? It didn't make sense, it couldn't make sense. It just simply couldn't be!

Mother went back to looking through her belongings.

This wasn't funny. Why wasn't she turning back around, to laugh at him, to say it was a jest. That her words were for amusement, despite how cruel they were for Damian to hear. He knew his Mother was not one to joke, but surely this was an exception because… because if she didn't turn to face him soon to admit that, then-

Then that meant Damian was an omega. 

And if he was an omega... If he- if he was of the lowest status, then Grandfather would disown him. He'd be taken away from his training at best, perhaps disposed of at worst. Executed for being a failure, for daring to present as the worst option, for disgracing the Al Ghul bloodline. There were barely any omega's in the league as is, having the future heir become one was just horrific!

This couldn't be- he can't- no!

This was not happening!

His chest felt tight. He couldn't breathe. It felt as if a snake was constricting around his lungs while simultaneously a pressure was building up on the inside, just waiting to burst. Damian felt himself start to heave, hands coming up to clutch at his sides in a bruising grip. His sight grew blurry and he began to furiously blink in an attempt to clear them. It didn't work. What was happening to him?!

A wetness rolling down his cheek queued Damian in on the answer. 

He was crying.

He, Damian Al Ghul, was crying! 

How pathetic.

Damian felt a guttural noise fight it's way out of him and he was disgusted at the despair in it. He clenched his teeth and dug his fingers harder into his sides, feeling the bones of his ribs preventing the hold from deepening anymore.

He squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to keep the tears from shedding-

“Damian!”

He stilled at the sharpness in Mother's tone, breath stilling when he heard her heels clicking against the floor, “That is unsightly. Quit this wild release of your pheromones and gather yourself.”

He- oh, oh he was releasing his pheromones? Damian inhaled sharply and realized, yes, there was in fact a scent in the room he didn't recognize. His new scent. 

A sickly strong cinnamon with a hint of sweet apple coated the room. It was unbelievable that he hadn't registered it sooner. The scent was overwhelmingly strong. In fact, anyone in the league would be able to smell it. They'd mock him for it, disregard him as soon as they caught his scent and realized his standing-

“Habibi,” Damian's eyes snapped open to look at her as she spoke in a commanding voice, “calm yourself.”

It was an instant effect. 

He still felt the unruly claws of anxiety gripping his body but his heart beat evened out, and the tears stopped. Whether it was from the surprise of the term of endearment he hadn't heard in ages or his instincts following the command of an alpha, he did not know.

Talia’s expression grew soft and she came closer, gently taking his face in her hands, shocking Damian even further, “Listen Damian, I need you to pay close attention.”

He dumbly nodded but the absent minded confirmation was enough for her to continue, “I am sending you away to protect you. I will not be joining you, but I know you will flourish without my aid.”

A whimper escaped from Damian’s lips as his expression fell in anguish. 

Perhaps it was the affection or the amount of emotional turmoil shoved upon him from when he first woke, but words began falling out of Damian's mouth before he could take a moment to consider them, “No! I can't leave! Grandfather, the whole league, they will look down on me even more if they find out that not only am I an omega, but I fled! I would rather face the punishments to befall me than to flee like…. like a lowly omega!! I may be a disgrace but I'm not a coward!”

His conviction would have been more convincing if it wasn't for the fact his voice was trembling with fear and his scent had once again grown strong. The profuse cinnamon that was giving away his distress stung at Damian's nose and he marveled at the fact his Mother made no move to acknowledge it, only addressing his words.

“Damian,” her grip tightened ever so slightly, “You are not a disgrace.”

He tried to shake his head, “I am Mother, I am of the lesser beings now!”

“Rid yourself of those thoughts,” she snarled, dropping her hands and straightening up, “You are an Al Ghul, son of the bat. Regardless of your second gender, you will be great.”

“But Grandfather-”

“Is a fool.”

Damian’s hands flew to his mouth, a gasp escaping him at her blatant disrespect. He knew this was how she had felt about Grandfather's ideals, but she had never expressed it in front of him, or anyone for that matter. At least, not anyone with loose lips.

His Mother simply turned her gaze to the wall behind him, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath, voice steady but strained, “I do not fully agree with how things are run at the league Damian. Your Grandfather is an intelligent man, and a great ruler, but he is blinded by his history. These archetypes he refuses to let die are holding him back.”

“Being of an omega status will not hinder your success in this world. You will learn to take advantage of your situation and the ignorance of others will be your sharpest weapon. I see your potential my son, you will be exceptional, on par or even surpassing your Father. However, you cannot stay in the league. They would snuff out your flame or try their best to cut your time on this earth short, and you're too young to defend yourself against them all. Especially against your Grandfather.” With that, she turned around once again, settling herself for a brief moment before quickly walking to a far closet facing the bed.

Damian sat there in shock, unsure how to proceed. He knew his Mother believed omegas had potential, her taking one as a student was proof enough, but he never thought she'd think of them this highly. It was a stark contrast to what everyone else had ever told him.

Especially Grandfather. If Grandfather thought omega’s were not even worth the ground he walked on, who could say otherwise? If he delegated the lowest tasks to them, forced them to be submissive servants, it simply was how things were. It’d be blasphemous to disagree. But Mother… Mother was saying otherwise. And if she said this, then it had to be true. 

She was his Mother. 

But Grandfather was the Demon's Head.

Damian brought both hands up and pulled at his hair in frustration. Why was this so confusing?!

Mother reappeared from the dark closet with a box in her hands, walking back to Damian's side. She slid out a small compartment within the box and handed it to him, “Take one.”

Damian slowly took the thin container and peered into it. The inside was divided into small square spaces by thin wooden panels, and in each space was a pill. Pills? Was he not done with the presentation experiment? Why must he take more medication?

Mother must have seen the confusion in his expression, “They dampen the amount of pheromones your body produces. You will have to take these until I say otherwise.”

“Is this to cover my tracks when.. when we flee the league?” The irony of being forced to present only to then hide said presentation was not lost on Damian.

Talia sighed, “Yes and no. You will continue to take these as well as wear scent patches where you will be staying.”

That filled Damian with nervousness, which he tried to stamp down after noticing a slight shift in his scent, “Where will I be staying Mother?”

“With your Father.”

Damian's eyes widened at that. His Father? The Batman? But- “But I can't!”

Talia looked amused but also confused at his denial, “Why not?” 

“Because.. because I am not strong enough yet! You said I would meet him when I became a formidable warrior and it would be shameful to even consider that at the moment. Especially considering-”  Damian bit his lip quickly to stop the words, ‘that I'm an omega now’, from tumbling out of his mouth. His grip on the container tightened as he watched Mother, her lips down turned and a disappointed look in her eyes.

“Damian, while you are not at the level I originally wanted you to be at when you and your Father finally met, it does not matter considering the current situation. As I said, you staying here in the league would lead to a premature end of your training and I will accept no such thing. Your Father will take you in and continue to teach you but-” Talia hesitated.

“But what Mother?”

“You cannot reveal yourself as an omega to him.”

While this was expected, his Father was an alpha (and a great warrior at that), it still pained Damian. He failed the man and he hasn't even met him yet. It was okay though, Father had the right to disregard him if he found out, it was a miracle that Mother would still think him to be worthy.

Mother let out a frustrated sigh, “No Damian, not for whatever frivolous reason you have come up with. He is a just man, Damian, and fervently protective of his young.”

“His young?” Damian felt a new dread set in, “You mean.. he has other children, other pups?” This was… competition that Damian hadn't known about, but, but perhaps he could gain his Father's approval before them.

“Not quite. I believe they've grown into a pack of alpha's and beta's, you'll be the only unpresented one. Well, at least in their eyes.”

Damian's stomach dropped. He was ruined. Set up for failure. He'd rather face an, albeit painful, but quick execution in the league than the humiliation of being the youngest and lowest ranked in his Father's pack. 

Talia's hard gaze turned sharper, “I know what you are mulling over in your mind and I command you to cease that line of thought. How many times must I correct your behavior Damian? Your status will not hinder you in becoming the most skilled assassin, even when staying at your Father's residence.”

“Then..” Damian hesitated, hands balling into fists against his legs as he continued, “Then why must I hide? Does Father and his pack look down on omegas like the league? Or is their perspective different from Grandfather's?”

A thick silence took hold of the air before Talia slowly began to respond, “Your Father is a kind man… and so are those he works with. I mainly fear the rash actions they would take if they were to find out you presented so young. Especially since it was due to our experimentations, but..” 

She hesitated, brows furrowing before she continued on, “But I will not carry the guilt of lying to you that they are all kind to omega's. While they may treat you well, they will look down on you. You will not be equal to them if they are to find out your status. This is another reason why you must cover your scent.”

Damian nodded, “I understand.” And he did, it made him feel sick to his stomach, but it was just the way things were.

“Take the pill.”

“Yes Mother,” Damian picked up the pill in the farthest left corner of the container. He looked at it, small and purple in color, before putting it in his mouth and swallowing it in one go. He never liked taking pills without a glass of water, but he did not want to bother his Mother any further.

He felt as if he had pushed her favor too far already, what with his undignified behavior and daring questions. Mother took the container from his hand and put it back in the box, opening the other side and pulling out a thin square packet. She tore the top off of it before handing it over, “These are scent patches, put the largest ones on your neck and the small ones on your wrists. They will dampen the rest of your scent as well as let off a milky smooth aroma, in imitation of a pup.”

Damian nodded and took it graciously. He slid the patches out and began peeling the film off of their backs, carefully applying them to his skin. They blended in seamlessly, only noticeable if you were searching for them.

Mother watched as he did, before nodding in content, “I already had one of my personal servants fetch what you would need from your quarters. We should take our leave now before dawn is upon us. Are you ready Damian?”

“Yes Mother.”

Chapter Text

Nanda Parbat was where Damian had spent most of his life. It was a very isolated place, tucked away in the nook of a sprawling mountain range. The closest town took at least a couple of days to reach if you didn't use a plane or helicopter, so to say the least, Damian did not have much experience with the outside world.

This fact made him unsure of how quickly he'd be able to adapt to Gotham.

Of course, Damian did know a great amount about the city, having spent hours researching the place when he learnt the identity of his Father.

His Mother had given him stacks of city plans from the last few decades to study, along with historical books exploring its colorful past. The plans had shown its sprawling design, a grand chaotic mess that somehow managed to function. Gothic architecture detailing every building mixed with the flashy lights of a modern city. The history books went into the founding of the originally small town, showcasing notable figures that were deeply involved in the city's growth (Damian had memorized any passage that even mentioned the last name Wayne) and large events that shaped the place into its current state. It was all so different from Nanda Parbat.

Enormous, full of people living their individual lives, and unpredictable in its day to day. So unlike the calmness of the mountain commune. Orderly and quiet, secluded, a peaceful temple to the outside eye. The one place Damian had ever truly known.

That isn't to say Damian had never stepped foot outside of Nanda Parbat though. He obviously had left the premises before, but he could count on one hand the amount of times it had been to a civilized area. Damian had mostly traveled to the surrounding forested mountains.

Survival lessons had become a high priority after he had hit age five.

It was only within the past year that he was allowed to tag along, and even partake in outside missions. Talia told him it was to prepare Damian for a trial Ra’s had planned for him as soon as he hit age ten.

The first mission had been… a simple event, all things considered.

A man heavily involved in their weapon trades had cut contact without warning. While not unusual for people to lay low for a while, they quickly discovered that the man had begun to involve himself with other organizations that did not exactly… like the league.

The goal was to leave a message for him, a small gesture advising against such actions in the future.

Two assassins had been assigned to the mission. One lead-rank alpha to take charge and one mid-rank alpha to heed his orders and act as backup. The lead alpha was a tall man with a herculean build, dressed in the traditional league garbs. The only distinction of his rank from a regular assassin being the more intricate designs on the metal armor plates. Most of his other features were hidden, the only exceptions being the short brown hair peeking out from under his hood, harsh grey eyes, and the steely smell of his scent. The latter being in the process of getting muffled by a scent patch the large man was putting on.

The mid-rank alpha was also well built, but a few inches shorter than the lead alpha, with a more lean physique. His scent patches were already on but his hood was down, allowing Damian to get a clear look at his face. Well a clear look at the upper half of his face, as the man's mouth and nose were covered with the black cloth mask all the assassins wore out on missions. He had short spiky pale blonde hair, the sides shaved into a fade.

His eyebrows, which were thin and long, were currently furrowed together as he looked down at Damian. His dull blue eyes set in a glare.

“I don't like the kid, he's weird,” the mid-rank alpha broke eye contact with Damian to look at the other man, "Can we not just leave him here and make him someone else's problem?”

The lead alpha let out a frustrated groan as he patted down his scent pads, “You think I haven't already tried? It was no luck, Talia herself assigned the brat to us. If we don't take him… at best, she'd probably demote us for disrespecting her orders.”

Both men turned back to glowering at Damian.

“I'll have you know,” Damian snarked, “I could match you both in skills. You should be grateful you were allowed to accompany me on my mission.”

He had meant it to be threatening. To remind the men that they were talking to the Demon's Heir, trained under the heavy gaze and critique of Ra’s Al Ghul himself, but both alpha's broke out into barking laughter.

“What a stuck up little prince you are,” the mid-rank alpha cackled, lowering himself to be on eye level with Damian, “Listen kid, this isn't one of your staged executions. Mommy isn't going to serve you your target on a platter, tied up and ready to kill. We actually have to put in effort to hunt this man down.”

Damian flushed at the mocking words, “I have hunted and killed plenty! Never once were they ‘served’ up on a platter for me to end. In fact, just last week-”

A surprised squeak came from Damian as the man in front of him scoffed, lightly shoving Damian's face with his hand to shut him up, “Lord, the kid’s a rambler. Listen little prince, your little self isn't a real threat to any sensible person. Just keep quiet and- oh fuck!"

Damian had made the executive decision to bite the palm rudely pressed against his face. His small teeth sunk into the tough flesh, drawing blood. He grimaced as some of it trickled into his mouth, but his hold did not lessen.

“The kid fucking bit me!” The man screamed.

He waved his hand about to try and shake Damian off, but this only made Damian circle his small hands around the alpha's wrist to secure his position. His teeth dug in further as he stumbled along with the erratic movements of the man's failed attempts to dislodge him. The alpha yelled and straightened up, anger and panic lacing his tone, “Let go you brat!”

He used his other hand to harshly pry open Damian’s mouth, unlatching his teeth, before roughly shoving him to the ground. Damian rolled with the momentum, using it to end up in a defensive crouch. He then looked up at the alpha and triumphantly smiled with all his teeth, showcasing the blood smothered across them. The metallic taste was disgusting but Damian paid it no mind. It was worth it to see the alpha's face contort in rage and embarrassment. He had been wounded by a 'mere pup'.

“Oh you cocky little brat,” he growled, raising his arm to strike. Damian tensed, prepared to leap out of the way at the last second, “You'll regret biting me-”

A hand shot out and pulled the man's wrist back before his attempted strike even gained momentum.

The mid-rank alpha whipped his head towards his new offender, the lead alpha, and an affronted growl escaped his lips. There was a moment of stillness before the lead alpha tightened his hold and twisted the mid-rank alpha's arm away from his body.

Said man let out a high pitch yelp, falling to his knees at the sudden pain shooting through his shoulder.

“Are you fucking stupid?!” The lead alpha's voice was heavy with anger, “You hit him and our heads will be the decorations at the next banquet. He's still the prince you imbecile!”

Damian watched on as he twisted the second alpha's arm further, making the man's shoulder jut out at an odd angle. The mid-rank alpha shouted out in pain, almost howling as he spoke, “I- fuck- get it, argh, I get it! Let go of me!”

The lead alpha sneered, and with one last twist (and a wounded gasp from the second alpha) he threw the man's arm aside and stalked off. Damian heard him muttering under his breath as he walked by, “Got a dumbass and a literal toddler on my team, this is just great.”

Damian held his tongue, swallowing the scathing retort he wanted to shout. He did not appreciate the sarcasm but if the lead alpha lost his cool and they had to postpone the mission until the man calmed down, he knew Mother would look at him to blame. Even though both these men were looking down on him! It was ridiculous how unfair it was!

Whatever, it mattered not.

Damian would prove to these fools and Mother that he was more than prepared for this mission.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The group of three traveled by a stealth plane for roughly half a day before they landed in a clearing twenty miles away from their target's home. It then took another three hours to make the trek to their location, so as to not cue their target in on their arrival. Dusk fell during their journey and with it came the aching cold. Harsh winds whistled by and Damian tried to discreetly wrap his arms around his torso to help conserve body warmth as they hiked. The clothes he wore were of a thin lightweight material, to make movements fluid, but it worked against him when it came to braving harsh weather. He clicked his teeth in annoyance but snapped his jaw shut immediately after, as he could feel his body begin to shiver.

Damian did not want the alpha's to hear his teeth chatter.

He was sure they knew he was cold, but he would not embarrass himself further with such an undignified action.

While it was not the worst journey Damian had ever taken, (that being a climb up a snowy mountain while avoiding pursuers), the added stress of knowing this mission would be evaluated by Mother herself to gauge Damian’s effectiveness outside the league only fueled his unease. Coupled with the two alpha's purposefully traversing the most difficult trails, to try and make Damian slip up, led to his mood souring severely.

They seemed to not like Damian.

Their scents were concealed, as to eliminate any potential for their targets to be alerted by catching a whiff of unknown pheromones, but it also made Damian unable to truly make out their emotions. However, he could tell by their body language, and the curt way they spoke to him, that he was seen as an annoyance.

His earlier spat with the second alpha most definitely aided in their less than stellar opinion on him, which only made Damian roll his eyes. The man had insulted the Demon's Heir and didn't foresee the instant retribution? Ridiculous.

So he was stuck with two hissing alpha's who did their best to ignore his presence unless he stumbled or fell behind, to which they'd chastise him with demeaning remarks.

It made Damian want to jump and bite at them again.

But that would be anserine, a thought chimed in, almost an imitation of criticism he had heard from his Mother before. So in the end, all he could do was grit his frozen jaw harder to hold back any retort, and stomp down on the frustration trying to claw its way out of him. Angering the alpha's now would not be favorable in this situation, he reasoned with himself. Damian did believe he could take them down in a fight, but it would be extremely inconvenient to have to dispose of two feral alpha's while on his first mission. So endure their presence it was.

He would ask to properly fight them when the mission was over.

When they finally reached the outskirts of the property, a large estate that held a finely built villa coming into view, Damian was already feeling a tad bit tired. His legs were sore from the purposefully debilitating hike and he was ready to enter an insulated building with the best technology (in Damian’s humble opinion) that mankind has ever invented, a modern day heating system.

He tried to keep his eagerness on a downlow, but just the sight of the towering limestone mansion had him picking up his pace.

The structure was expansive, towering high with three major floors, smaller sections of the building going further up to four. The architecture was of the neo-mamluk sort, with heavily detailed stonework and large stained-glass windows. Hazy warm light was cast on the surroundings below and created a sharp contrast to the gloomy night. A cold fog had even seeped in across the grounds, and harsh shadows seemed to consume everything the warmth did not grace. The moonlight they had used to traverse during the earlier hours of the trip all but gone with the dark clouds that had rolled in.

The trio slowed when they reached the sandstone brick wall that encased the manor and its garden.

A quick scan showed a singular security camera on the corner of the bricks. A laughably easy obstacle to avoid.

Damian followed the lead of the two alpha's and quickly scaled the wall, nimbly avoiding the ornate iron spikes that sat at the top. They stuck to the sides of the sandstone wall, keeping out of sight, until reaching the back of the villa. The lead alpha then took a sharp turn and ventured through bushes of bright red flowers.

They had not exactly told him how they would be breaking into the place, so he could only trust that the imbeciles had come up with something reasonable and weren't aimlessly wandering about. Luckily, Damian was proven correct when the man stopped at what seemed to be a trap door in the ground, slightly concealed by the sheer amount of foliage.

Hm, they must have gone over the estate's floor plans, otherwise it'd have been impossible to find such a hidden thing so quickly. Damian grew slightly irritated at the fact that he had been left out of the planning for this mission. He had wanted this to be his mission, to impress Mother and Grandfather with his skills. Instead, he felt like a useless pup trailing after two grumpy alphas. No, not even felt, that was basically what was happening. It deeply irked him. If they had only included him in their debrief then he would at least know the plan and be of better use. For now, he would have to stick to their movements and find a situation to take over later.

The mid-rank alpha hurried forward and Damian watched as he began to pick at the sturdy metal lock that held the rustic latch of the door in place. Within a few minutes (Damian could have done it faster), a soft click resounded in the air and the mid-rank alpha quietly slid the heavy lock to the side.

The door clearly was not well taken care of, as the rusted hinges screeched as it opened, making Damian cringe at the obscene noise.

“Let's go,” the head alpha softly mumbled, pushing the second alpha to the side as he descended down what seemed to be a stone spiral staircase.

It was quiet as they crept down the steps.

The air grew crisp the further they went in and the temperature dropped suddenly in a way unique to entering an underground room. The natural stone on either side of them only aided in this sensation. Damian let one of his hands glide over the roughly carved out walls as they passed.

The stairway eventually opened up into a spacious cellar. It was almost pitch black, all outside light blocked due to the overlapping of the steps, with only a faint glow coming from under a metal door at the end of the room. With it, Damian could barely make out the floor to ceiling wooden racks that were full of wine bottles. They had rooms such as these at the league but Damian had never gone into one on his own, never all that interested in them. The lead alpha signaled the other towards the sturdy metal door before his eyes fell on Damian, still lingering near the entrance. The man's gaze went past him, up the stairway, before he crossed the room in a few short strides.

Damian went to move out of the way, but before he fully could, the man pivoted at the last second. His hand shot out and Damian didn't have much time to react before he felt the alpha grab at the back of his neck, successfully scruffing him.

A jolt of panic shot through Damian, eyes widening as he felt his body go limp. His chest constricted as he held back a yelp, not wanting to showcase his sudden fright. The lead alpha lowered himself, face coming in close as he let out a growl, “Listen little prince, I need this to unfold swiftly and with no complications. I do not have the time to waste on making sure you don't mess up. So stay off to the side, watch but don't interfere. You are not needed and are only here to see how these things go. Do you understand?”

A disgusting rage bubbled up in Damian's gut.

How dare this man speak to him in such a manner? How dare he scruff him?! Damian sneered but all he could do at the moment was give a weak nod.

“Good, let's get moving,” the man released his grip on Damian's neck and turned towards his companion, who had finished hacking into the digital lock that was on the metal door.

The blonde man was smiling mockingly at Damian.

Well, he couldn't actually see his smile, but he could tell by the way his eyes crinkled and that was enough for Damian to know. He expected to hear the man's grating voice throw a mocking insult at him, but the mid-rank alpha did not say anything as he turned to go through the now opened door.

Damian glared at them both.

He took a moment to breathe deeply, collecting himself so as to not take any action that would disappoint Mother, and reluctantly followed after the two alpha's. Damian wanted badly to lunge and attack them, but instead went over how humiliated they would be once he beat them at a public duel. It kept his rage occupied.

They made their way up into the building, light on their feet and moving with the intent to stay unseen.

The inside was somehow darker than he thought it would be, despite the candles hung every few feet. Heavy velvet curtains framed the windows and oil paintings took up a great portion of the walls. Damian looked up and noted that even the ceilings seemed to be decked out in ornate designs. Geometric patterns of varying colors lined with mother-of-pearl. He took a moment to appreciate the effort of such complex designs. It was an obvious show of wealth, but there was care and effort put into the artistic decorations.

A faint sound of music began to fill the halls the further they went, making Damian focus back on the mission at hand. It grew even louder when they turned a corner, signifying where the target was.

The lead alpha slowed his steps as they came upon a door ever so slightly left open. Subtle sounds of someone moving about inside the room were almost drowned out by the music. The second alpha halted completely and waited as the lead alpha took in their surroundings and thought up an effective course of action.

He looked down to address Damian, “When we enter, just stay in the shadows. We'll end this swiftly.”

He didn't wait for confirmation before turning back around and going to stand at the lead alpha's side. They stopped at the door, looking at each other, and having a silent conversation with their hands. A type of sign language special to the league. Damian craned his neck to get a better view and tried to follow along, summarizing that they would enter the room and the lead alpha would attack first, the mid-rank alpha being on stand-by if things went south. The music delved into its chorus and the second alpha pushed the door open just a tad, allowing enough space for them to enter and for Damian to see the dark shadow of someone swaying along to the fuzzy melody playing.

The two alpha's slipped in, Damian lurking after them. He diverted off to the side as they both crept upon their unsuspecting target.

Said man was humming softly to the tune, hand holding a delicate glass which had little wine left, and tipsily moving along to the tempo of the song.

Damian settled himself against the side of an antique bookcase and watched as the man continued his silly movements. Wine sloshed about, reaching the edges of the glass, but falling back in before it could ever fully spill out. As the song reached its crescendo, the lead alpha made his move.

He ran up behind the target, steps silent, and raised his arm to strike with the handle of his katana.

Thwack

It was over pathetically quick, the man not even noticing the assassin until the hit landed across the back of his head.

Damian watched as his knees buckled and the man's whole body crumpled to the floor, his grip faltering, leading to the wine glass shattering right next to his head. Shards flew far enough to even reach Damian by the bookcase. The little bit of wine left in it splashing across the white marbled floor.

For a moment, everything went quiet and no one moved.

It was broken by a pained groan from the man, a shaking hand reaching up slowly to touch the back of his head. “Who… what- what is happening,” he sloppily grumbled. His hand retreated from his silky brown hair, now coated with blood, “Ohh god, oh god no..”. His words slurred together and became incomprehensible babbling. The smell of the man's distressed scent, a sort of decomposing moss, wafted across the room. It was unpleasant and filled the area with the feelings of fright and terror.

It made Damian grimace as he felt the intensity of the emotions, trying to not let it affect him.

The second alpha only laughed at this scene, rounding on the man and crouching down in front of him.

“How sad, your husband clearly isn't the smartest man, leaving you here all alone,” he gripped the man's hair right above the head wound and tilted his face upwards, “How unfortunate for you, not for us though. You'll be an example of what will happen to him if he continues to ignore the league. We didn't enjoy having one of our arms dealers run off hand in hand with another buyer.”

The lead alpha snorted at that, neatly wiping blood off the hilt of his sword, “If seeing his husband dead doesn't drive some sense into him, he's a lost cause.”

“Wait, this isn't our target?” Damian piped up, stepping out from the shadows.

The lead alpha raised a brow, “He is our target.”

“But,” Damian walked closer, “But you just said this is the mate of the arms dealer. I was told we would be threatening the arms dealer. Not his mate.”

“Kid, this is us threatening the arms dealer,” the lead alpha growled out, “If we kill his beta, his ‘mate’, he'll be scared into returning to us. That way we don't have to find a new dealer. If it doesn't work, then we'll go after him. Also, didn't I just tell you not to interfere?!”

“I am a part of this mission,” Damian hissed out, but conceded as he backed up once again. However, he didn't go as far as the book case, this time only a few feet away from the injured man.

Who was currently looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Damian looked away.

The mid-rank alpha stood up, pulling his hood off in the process and running a hand through his flattened grimy blonde hair. “Well, let's get it over with, how should we do this?” He asked, tilting his head quizzically at the lead alpha.

The man let out a considering hum, eyes drawn back to the beta twitching subtly on the floor, “He sure is quiet. Let's draw out some noise with a few wounds. Might as well have some fun while we're here.”

Damian felt his gut twist. Fun? How could that be fun? This was supposed to be a quick assassination. No intel was even required from the beta, so torture wasn't needed.

The mid-rank alpha nodded, “Maybe leave him to bleed out just before our friend gets back home? Which is soon, I should mention, roughly an hour before his return. Oh! We should also look for valuables!”

The lead alpha cackled at that, stepping over the beta to slap his teammate on the back. “You're such a greedy fuck. Yeah sure, whatever. We still have to deal with this though,” he roughly nudged the beta with his foot, “So let's be quick about it.

“Of course!”

With that, the two began ransacking the place. They looked through the extravagant room for anything that caught their eyes. Damian remained where he was.

Conflicting emotions warred within him but the most dominant one, disgust, was prominent in his expression as he stared at the backs of the two alpha's.

Disgust at their avarice and revolting plans.

Damian made the mistake of looking back down at the beta when he heard the man let out a quiet, pained hiss. His body was slack and his eyes, which were boring holes through Damian's skull, were filled with defeat. It looked like anguish and acceptance mixed together, and it drilled straight into Damian’s core.

As if in a trance, he moved towards the downed man, barely breathing as he kept the two alpha's in his periphery. The beta kept silent as well, eyes hyper focused on Damian's movement.

The man's scent seemed to engulf Damian and he knelt on his knees, wine (or blood) staining his trousers as he leaned in close.

“Kill me.”

Damian’s eyes widened.

It was so soft, he almost didn't believe he heard correctly before it was spoken in the same desperate tone.

“Kill me, please.”

Damian’s hand instinctively hovered over the dagger at his hip.

He felt fuzzy headed, unsure what to do. Damian had never faced a target who wanted to die. Though, perhaps it was not a want, but rather an escape from whatever the alpha's had planned. Whatever it was seemed terrible enough to make this beta beg for a merciful death.

Damian’s throat felt dry as his hand curled around the hilt of the blade, slowly pulling it out.

“Please.”

He nodded.

Glancing up, the alpha's were still distracted with rummaging through belongings.

Damian looked back down, nodding once more.

He solemnly lifted the freed blade to the beta's neck.

A look of relief, such a strange reaction to knowing you're about to die an unfair death, took over the man's face.

Damian breathed in deeply.

He stilled his trembling hand.

And he ended the man's life with one slash.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

That was how the mission had ended.

Damian didn't know how to feel about it.

It was.. unnerving.

On one hand, he had completed the mission flawlessly, even with his less than exceptional companions and their anger at his ending their so-called ‘fun’ early.

When asked about what happened by Talia, Damian explained it away by saying their plans were taking too long and their ‘fun’ would have compromised the mission. Talia only hummed in approval and said she would give them an appropriate punishment. She never told him what that exactly meant, but Damian found he did not care. He wouldn't be sad if he never saw the two again.

Damian also learned that the villa had been located in Egypt.

A stunning location.

But he…

Damian couldn't explain it, but after that mission, he had felt off.

He wasn't dumb, he knew it had to do with how the execution of that beta unfolded, but that was silly. He was being silly. It didn't matter and it was ridiculous he was even ruminating.

A week after the mission, he had asked Mother for the report on it.

She didn't question the reason why he wanted it, only gave him a curious glance before making one of her personal servants fetch the files. Damian poured all of his free time into combing over the pages diligently, picking out anything that mentioned the beta husband of the original target. The amount of times he was even mentioned wouldn't have filled out a paragraph. He didn't seem to be a criminal, an accomplice to his husband's crimes at most, but never actually participating. This only churned the uncomfortable feeling in Damian more.

What made him the one to kill? Why was he chosen? Why couldn't they just have maimed the target? Logically, he knew it was to send a message, but there were so many other ways to do that.

Ways that didn't involve killing this random, insignificant, man.

Mother never asked for the report back, to which Damian was silently grateful for, as it ended up torn and tossed out his window in a fit of frustration.

He had watched the pieces float down to the rushing gorge below, chest heaving and face twisted into a scowl. The emotions he did not comprehend still not abating after the outburst. He did not understand, but he could not ask why they didn't choose another way to bring their target back to the league without killing the mate, or why the death invoked such strong feelings in him. It would be wrong to ask, Damian knew this, which only upset him further.

Something must be wrong within him. That mission plan was the will of the league.

Of the Al Ghul's.

He just had to ignore whatever this was until it went away.

And he did.

Every time he was assigned to a mission, he would push down the wary feelings he would get. Every time he killed someone seemingly innocent, he would hold back the guilt until it festered up into anger he could take out in his training He began to hate leaving Nanda Parbat, knowing that the lives he would end would make him repeat this unpleasant experience.

Even now, in a car traversing the clustered structures of Gotham, he felt nauseous.

He knew this wasn't a mission, he wouldn't be hunting down a target to kill, but he seemed to have subconsciously associated leaving the league with those horrid feelings. It was embarrassing to realize.

Knowing that he was on his way to meet his Father, an alpha with a pack of his own, only contributed to this mess.

Adding on to that even more, he had to conceal his omega status from a family of highly trained individuals that rivaled even Mother and Grandfather. It really made for a concoction of emotions Damian did not want to deal with. He tried to meditate in the backseat of the car as they drove. Deep breaths in and out, consciously relaxing every muscle.

It helped a little.

He was brought out of this calming exercise when a hand slid onto his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

Damian opened one eye to look at his Mother, who was sitting next to him and gazing out her car door window.

“Mother?”

“We are almost there Damian,” she said softly, turning her head to look down at him, “When we arrive, you will stay inside the car until someone fetches you, do you understand? I need to have a private conversation with your Father.”

Damian bit back any protest and simply nodded, “Yes Mother.”

“Good Habibi. Now tidy yourself, you should aim to make a good impression,” Talia said, retracting her hand and returning to looking outside at the trees racing by.

They seemed to be making their way through the more prosperous properties tucked away from the mayhem of central Gotham City. After a couple more minutes, they turned into a large path off to the side of the main road, the car slowing to a stop outside a wrought iron gate. The assassin driving the car got out at Talia's command and walked up to an intercom attached to a stone brick pillar. A few seconds passed as the woman spoke to whoever was on the other side before the gates slowly began to open and the assassin returned to the car.

Beyond the trees stood the looming Wayne manor.

It had Damian sitting on the edge of his seat, nerves lighting up throughout his body at being so close to meeting his Father.

Though this was not how he had expected their first encounter to go, Damian was still eager to see the man he had looked up to ever since he could understand the stories Mother had told him. He was curious on how the interaction would unfold.

Would they hug? Would the man be as excited and scared as Damian was? Or would he be like Mother, closed off with few moments of affection.

If so, Damian would do his best to earn it.

He hoped Father would be proud of his progress. Damian knew he was not the best there was, but he also knew that for his age, he had skills most did not. Skills that even an average assassin in the league could never hope for. The car rolled up to a large marble fountain, the sound of gravel crunching underneath the wheels. The driver pulled off to the side of the building and parked behind a flourishing rose bush. Mother waited till the woman had exited the car before she began to speak again, “I've hidden the patches and pills in the seams of your suitcase. I'm certain they will not search your belongings, but you never know. Your Father is a very cautious man.”

Damian nodded resolutely, “What will I do when I run out?”

“Do not worry about such things. I will find a way to send more over when you grow low,” Talia said, reaching for the car door handle, “I must now go talk to your Father.”

He nodded, watching as she exited the car and walked towards the steps that led to a grand entrance. As soon as she entered the building and the doors closed behind her, Damian immediately scooted to his window to take in his new… home.

It was not close to the size of Nanda Parbat, but enormous when compared to the homes of common civilians. It looked almost like a Victorian castle, made out of stone brick with gargoyles even perched on the edges of the roof. It fit very well as a headquarters for the Batman. In fact, if Damian was naïve, he would have even believed it if told this was the home of an ancient vampire. It was elegant and held the air of nobility, arches carved with fine detail and columns finely sculpted with intricate designs.

He spent close to fifteen minutes with his face pressed to the glass just taking it all in.

This was where he would be living, for however long Mother deemed…

Suddenly, the two large front doors swung open and an older gentleman stepped out. Damian flung himself back into his seat, a burst of adrenaline shooting through him.

The man looked around before spotting the car parked off to the side, and began making his way to it with swift steps. Damian sat up straight and put his hands in his lap, steeling his nerves. The car handle clicked as the old man pulled at it before he pushed the door all the way open. He then lowered himself at the waist as he leaned down into the car. He looked like a classic English butler straight from a storybook. He was dressed very properly; black suit and tie, grey vest, and a white undershirt with gleaming silver cufflinks on the sleeves. His hair was gray, hints of black fading away, and thinning at the top. He also sported a moustache with the same coloring.

Damian felt underdressed, having left Nanda Parbat in the clothes he had woken up in, the itchy white cotton top and pants.

Before Damian could greet the butler (he assumed), then man's eyes widened and he let out a small strangled gasp.

He stood still for a few seconds as he seemed to take in Damian's appearance. His scent, a smoky vanilla, was pungent and overwhelmed with shock. Was he disturbed by the lab clothes? Damian cursed himself for not thinking to change.

“Oh my, master Bruce will not be needing a blood test to know you are his son,” he muttered under his breath, in a proper British accent Damian noted.

The comment confused Damian, so he scowled, “Why would there be any doubts as to who I am the son of?”

The man only shook his head, “Never mind that.. hm.. young master. My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and yours?”

“Damian Al Ghul,” he said, puffing his chest out with pride.

“I suppose you are,” he said solemnly,” Let's go inside. I've heard of your journey here and I'm certain a pup like you needs your rest.”

Damian's heart jumped at that and he tried not to showcase any visible reaction to those words. This was good, this was perfect, him assuming Damian a pup meant the scent blockers were working.

The man left his spot at the car door and offered Damian a gloved hand to help him out. Damian looked at it warily, considering whether or not to accept the help. He of course did not need it, more than capable of exiting a car on his own, but if he denied the help would it be seen as offensive? The man was obviously some sort of hired butler, so he was simply doing his job and if Damian denied it, he'd be denying the man's usefulness.

With that conclusion, he accepted the hand and hopped out of the car.

However, to his confusion, his hand was not let go when his feet hit the ground. Instead, he was gently tugged towards the steps of the manor. They reached the front doors and Damian looked up when the butler stopped. The man took hold of an elegant metal door handle and let his hand rest on it for a moment. He watched as Pennyworth subtly shifted his gaze towards Damian, once again taking him in with an unusual expression that Damian could not quite place, before he finally opened the sturdy wooden door.

Pennyworth led him into a large foyer and Damian instantly tried to analyze its layout.

The ceiling was high up and the windows were almost tall enough to reach them. The walls were a warm red color detailed with small black intricate patterns, framed with a rosewood wainscot. Large ornate paintings were scattered about on them where there was space. Candles flickered, held high up by dark silver sconces shaped as bats, and a large glimmering chandelier hung in the middle of the room. The light produced gave the space a comforting warm atmosphere.

There were four potential exits to the room. The entrance Damian just walked through and doors to the left, right, and end of the foyer. Next to the doors at the end were two large wooden staircases that met and turned into one grand staircase. It led up to a mezzanine that stretched across the sides of the foyer, encased by the same railings that lined the stairs. In the center of the room, standing on a soft black carpet right underneath the chandelier, stood his Mother and Bruce Wayne, his... his Father.

They both had turned to look at Damian as the duo entered the house, and he felt himself pinned down by the stares. His Mother revealed no hint of emotion, face eerily blank, and Damian tried to subtly copy her stance. He slowly turned his gaze towards his Father, a mixture of excitement and apprehension overtaking him.

Their eyes locked instantly, forest green looking up at a steely blue.

His Father's face was also composed, but not as well as Mother's. Small signs of shock were showcased by the slight widening of his eyes and the clenching of his jaw. A strong scent of pine needle and blackberry encompassed the room in an instant, making Damian freeze. He was unprepared for the amount of emotion to be weaved into it, a wave of grief and anger crashing into him.

“Talia,” Father spoke, eyes not leaving Damian, “Leave.”

Mother's face was taken over by a look of desperation, something Damian had never seen before. She rushed to Bruce’s side and brought a hand up to gently rest on his bicep, “But beloved, if you let me-”

“No,” Father said, shrugging her hand off, “Leave.”

Talia stood silent for a second, hand hovering in the air, before her arm dropped back to her side. She pressed her lips together and took a moment to compose herself before speaking again, “If that is what you wish for, beloved. Just.. take into consideration what I said.” She turned away from him and began walking towards the front doors, her heels creating a sharp echo in the large room.

Talia stopped for a second when she reached Damian, leaning down to kiss his forehead and whispering into his ear, “Remember the plan habibi.”

Damian broke eye contact with Bruce to look up at her, mumbling a soft, “Of course Mother.”

With that, she straightened up and left the manor, leaving Damian alone in unknown territory. When he looked back at his Father, the man was turned to the side, shoulders hunched and a hand covering his eyes.

“Alfred,” Father gritted out, “Can you-”

“Of course master Bruce,” Pennyworth cut in, his hand giving Damian’s a light squeeze, “Off this way young master.”

Damian was whisked off, up one of the staircases, and he stumbled a bit to keep up.

What was happening? Did Father not want to talk to Damian? For what reason could that be? Was he… was he somehow already too disappointed to even look at Damian? If so, why? The man hadn't even given him the chance to prove himself!

He tried to careen his head over his shoulder to keep an eye on Bruce, “But I thought-”

“Both you and master Bruce have had quite strenuous days,” Pennyworth spoke softly as they walked up, “It is best we all take a moment to recuperate.”

Damian tried to get one more glance at his Father, but the man had turned away from them completely, his large frame tense and head bowed down. As they reached the top of the stairs and entered a long hallway, Damian lost sight of him completely. The butler guided him and he followed along mindlessly, confusion swirling about in his head. Damian stayed silent the whole way and so did the Pennyworth, the only sound being their mismatched footsteps on the plush red carpet rolled out on the floors. They eventually came to a stop when they reached the last door in the hall, the mahogany wood sporting a shiny silver handle.

Pennyworth pushed the door open, the hinges creaking ever so slightly. Beyond it was an albeit fancy, but still plain looking room. There were two doors against opposite walls, one he assumed led to a closet and the other to a bathroom. A huge bed, covered by a black comforter and dark grey pillows, was off to the side and framed by a sturdy wooden canopy. Sat at the bottom of it was a large leather chest. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a tall wardrobe and a desk situated by a window, the black curtains drawn shut.

The butler finally let go of his hand and began to speak, “This will be your room for the night young master, I will bring your luggage up while you ready yourself for the night. I know you must want to talk to your Father, but I implore you to understand that he wants to be left alone to process things.”

“Why so?” Damian quietly asked. He was scared the butler would tell him he managed to mess up during the brief moment they'd been in the foyer.

Pennyworth took a deep breath and sighed, “It is simply complications he had with your Mother and the finding out… of your existence, young master.”

“He..” Damian's brows furrowed, “He didn't know about me?”

The butler looked sad when he answered, “No, I'm afraid not… None of us did.”

Damian felt something inside him shatter. All his plans to win his Father's pride were on the basis that the man already knew who he was. He hadn't even considered this possibility. Damian hummed out in acknowledgement, trying to keep his unease at bay. He wished Mother had let him in on this fact.

“There is much to discuss and I am sure you yourself have many questions for master Bruce, but let us save them for when we are all well rested.”

Damian curtly nodded, “Of course. Your conclusion is logical. I await my luggage Pennyworth.”

The butler raised an eyebrow at that, “Hm, of course young master. There are basic necessities in the attached bathroom. I shall take my leave now.”

Damian watched as the man hurriedly left, his posture stiff. When the door was finally shut and Damian was alone, he drifted towards the bed. As soon as he got close, his body slumped against it and he slid to the floor, back leaning against the sturdy frame.

This was not what he was expecting.

Damian was now truly unsure of his future at Wayne manor.

Chapter Text

The first thing Damian saw when he opened his eyes was the dark grain of a wooden canopy. It took him a moment to process where exactly he was, his mind feeling hazy as he began waking. His presentation, discreetly leaving the League, Mother dropping him off at the manor, it wasn't a dream. 

Damian slowly sat up and looked around the sparsely decorated room that was now his , eyes drifting towards a window. He didn't have a clock, but assumed it to be around the A.M’s, as it was still dark out. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed at his eyes to fully wake himself up. Typically he was not this groggy in the morning but the trip to Wayne manor went far into the night and (though ashamed to admit it) his slumber had been restless.

Throwing his blanket to the side, Damian held back a yawn and slid off the bed. He looked around the room once more, unsure what exactly to do. Usually he would get up at 4am and stretch in the east courtyard before going to his first lesson of the day. After finishing up with that, he would then head off to the mess hall to eat. As of now, Damian no longer had that structure.

He had not been given any knowledge on the rules of this place, or the routine he was supposed to follow. When Pennyworth had returned later that evening to drop off Damian’s luggage, the man simply bid him a goodnight before exiting the room.

Was he supposed to wait for someone to fetch him? Did they expect him to come down at a certain time? Was there some subtle cue he missed?

Damian leaned against the bed, contemplating. 

Well, whatever was the case, he should start his morning routine and figure it out when he was ready for the day.

Damian walked to the middle of the room and began to do some simple stretches. Regardless of whatever training was planned, it was always good to stretch beforehand. He would be able to immediately jump into whatever was thrown at him without warning. Perhaps he’d even be praised for being so prepared. 

He nodded to himself, satisfied with his foresight.

For roughly the next half hour, Damian went through all the morning workouts he could recall. While the wooden floor was not the worst surface he had ever stretched on, it definitely wasn't the most comfortable. Damian wondered if maybe he could get a mat similar to the ones in the league courtyards sent to his room. He’d inquire about it with the butler later.

After finishing with that, Damian hurried off to his bag to retrieve a fresh set of clothes for the day (a simple light brown training set, as seemed to be most of his packed outfits) along with some soap and his toothbrush. He then began to feel around the inner linings of the suitcase for any irregularities. When he felt the slightest bump, Damian took a dagger from his luggage and neatly cut out a hole in the lining to reveal a small box and a cloth pouch.

In the box were the suppressant pills he was supposed to take daily, and the cloth bag held the patches that would smother his scent even further. 

He took it all and hurried to the en suite.

Damian tore off the old scent patch on his neck as he entered the bathroom, nose scrunching up as the faint smell of cinnamon and apple was released. He rolled up his sleeves and ripped the ones on his wrists off as well. It stung a bit as the adhesive had not degraded in strength, but he ignored it.

Damian dumped them into a small trash bin, figuring he’d deal with it later, before rushing into the large shower in the corner. He threw his clothes off and turned the handle as far as it could go. The sudden burst of ice cold water made Damian flinch but he simply took some soap and a scrub and began harshly cleaning his skin. As the milky scent of the body wash (another precaution from his Mother) overwhelmed the cinnamon apple smell, Damian felt disgust coil up inside him.

Just a day ago he had produced such a scent, the scent of an unpresented pup, and here he was chasing for the thing. A scent full of potential gone, superseded by a branding of disgrace.

Damian scrubbed furiously, watching his skin turn red under the now steaming hot water and friction. 

After washing his hair as fast as he could, Damian turned off the shower and grabbed a towel hanging on a rack nearby. He bundled himself up and was caught off guard by just how fluffy it was. The towel was very soft, unlike the ones at the League, which tended to be quite rough and scratchy. He hadn’t been aware that towels could be made to be so fluffy . Perhaps he could write to Mother and tell her of this wondrous thing. At the very least, he would bring one back with him when- if he ever returned to the League.

Damian dried off quickly, threw on his clothes, and hurriedly brushed his teeth. He took one pill out of the small box and placed it in his mouth before cupping some water from the running faucet and swallowing. 

He grimaced as he looked up and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Maybe it was the new setting, or his new outview on himself, but Damian felt he no longer looked like the league’s prince. He felt small standing in front of this wide mirror (on a stool so he could reach things no less) and his eyes had dark circles under them, hair spiked in all directions from when he ruffled it with the towel.

He ran a hand through his short hair and in doing so caught the soft lingering smell of cinnamon apple. Blanching, Damian instantly grabbed two patches to cover his wrists. He laid them down carefully, making sure they were smooth, before rolling his sleeves over them. He put patches on the crook of his neck and adjusted his (luckily high) collar to cover them the best he could. The patches weren’t all that noticeable on their own, but Damian did not want to be careless and get caught in this lie so soon. It would be over if anyone noticed the small line where the patches started and ended.

Once he finished getting ready for the day (including hiding the remaining pills and patches in the lining of his mattress), Damian stood in front of his bedroom door and waited.

He could continue to stay in his room and wait to be retrieved by the butler, or, he could discreetly leave his room and investigate the house. It was safer to do the former, as he was in the house of a pack, meaning this was all technically their territory. Damian was unsure if Father's wards, or even Father himself, would take kindly to Damian traversing it without their permission. On the other hand, it would do him good to get an understanding of the layout. There were bound to be secrets hidden within, as well as escape routes he should know about if the need to flee ever arose. Even if he was caught, a punishment for wandering on ground he wasn't given permission to explore was worth the knowledge he would gain.

Damian slowly opened his door and quietly made his way out of the room, steps soft. The long hallway outside was lined with other doors, but he would investigate those at a later time. They could be empty guest rooms, as he didn’t think that they'd place him next to rooms with pack members, but Damian did not want to chance stumbling upon an occupant of the house. 

He did not doubt that they would be surprised and suspicious of his actions, as well as angry for being disturbed.

He crept along and spent the next half hour sneaking through the second floor hallways and main rooms, categorizing any windows that led onto the roof directly as quick escape routes. There were also some notable rooms he would explore further when he had more time: a fairly large library that held floor to ceiling bookcases, as well as a room seemingly used to store furniture. That one had a vast amount of large paintings covered with white cloths that Damian would like to look at in detail.

He eventually came across a small discreet stairway that was inconspicuously placed in the corner of a large study. It looked to be a servant's passage, similarly hidden like the ones in Nanda Parbat.

Damian descended the stairs, skipping a few steps at a time, before ending up at a tall door. Cracking it open revealed a small dining room, the door discreetly disguised as part of the wall. He stilled when he heard faint sounds of movement coming from the room adjacent.  He waited a few seconds to make sure they hadn't heard him before slowly inching out and closing the passage door. He softly crept along the shadows of the early morning, peeking around the corner of an entryway and into the room the sounds were coming from.

It was a kitchen, and inside was Pennyworth. A small old radio was playing classical music at a low volume as the man set a pan on the stove, in the middle of prepping for a meal. This made Damian perk up. He hadn't had a proper meal since before his presentation, only nutrient bars hastily packed for their journey. They were a vital item for survival, but he cannot claim them to be the slightest bit craveable.

If the butler was in the midst of making breakfast, that meant that Damian would most likely be sought out once it was done. 

He would be expected to be in his room!

Damian slid back into the small dining room and hurried to the hallway outside of it. If he had been mapping the upper floor correctly in his mind, the foyer should be just around the corner. It would be faster to go up the grand staircase and head straight to his room than to retrace his steps. Damian felt triumphant at his correct assumption when he got to the end of the corridor and saw the large foyer. He ran up the grand staircase and towards the hall he had gone through the night prior, all while going over in his mind what he’d say when the butler came to fetch him. He would greet the man, act unaware of his arrival, maybe even ask if Father would be joining them for breakfast!

He rounded the doorway carelessly, a fatal error on his end, and ran straight into something warm and solid.

Damian reeled back, hands flying up to cover his hurt nose (which took the brunt of the collision) and eyes widening in surprise as he took in the thing- no, a person , he had run into. The man, tanned with wavy black hair, looked equally shocked.

“Woah! Hey there bud, you- oh wow,” the man stuttered out. He was staring down at Damian with a taken aback expression, almost identical to the one the butler had given him at the car.

The man was clad in loose loungewear and his dark hair was ruffled in every which way, clearly having just rolled out of bed. Damian felt frozen for a moment, eyes locked with what had to be one of his Father's wards. A beta.

Damian could tell by the faint scent coming from the man, fresh mint mixed with the sweet smell of mangos. It stilled Damian for a moment as it washed over him, feelings of surprise and curiosity an undercurrent of emotions conveyed by the scent.

The man reached out a hand, most likely aiming to grab his shoulder, but Damian stumbled back. They stared at each other in silence for a second longer before Damian suddenly whirled himself around and flew down the grand staircase.

It wasn't until Damian reached the ground floor that the man snapped out of his stupor, shouting out, “Wait, it's okay- hold on!” and flinging himself down the steps to chase after.

Damian chastised himself for not paying enough attention to his surroundings as he backtracked his path, ignoring his pursuer who was begging him to stop (and irritatingly gaining on him as well).

This was horrifying . Damian hadn't even been in his Father's house for a day and he had already slipped up. Whacking himself straight into one of the older wards? This simply showed he had no awareness in his surroundings! His underwhelming performance would for sure be reported to his Father, which in turn would lead to Damian's standing in this house plummeting before he even met the man. He can't believe he made such a dumb mistake!

The faint smell of smoky vanilla grew stronger the further Damian retraced his steps and his brain latched onto it. The butler! They had only interacted briefly, but the beta seemed reliable. Surely he'd help Damian avoid the other beta currently chasing him!

Scurrying through the small dining room and into the kitchen, Damian locked in on his target. He almost slid across the smooth tiles as he rounded the small island in the middle of the kitchen to reach the man.

Pennyworth shifted his attention from his cutting board to Damian, raising an eyebrow when the boy said nothing as he positioned himself behind his legs. A second later, Pennyworth’s attention was grabbed by Damian's pursuer, who skidded to a stop in the small kitchen doorway. Pennyworth discreetly looked back down at Damian, who was angling himself so that the small island and the butler's legs were enough to hide himself from sight.

“Alfred! Did you see, uh, Bruce's kid run through here? I think I frightened him. We bumped into each other and he ran off,” the man said, carding a hand through his messy hair.

Damian almost scoffed at his words. Frightened? He was not frightened by the man! He was merely mortified at his own lapse in skills. That, and he wanted to meet with his Father first before having to interact with the wards. Damian would actually prefer never having to interact with them at all, but that was already out the window with this encounter.

Pennyworth rolled his eyes, dry amusement lacing his words as he spoke, “It seems you have scared the pup, master Dick.”

Damian did scoff at that.

“Haha.. yeah.. I really didn't mean to,” Dick sheepishly ducked his head before looking back up at Alfred, “Wait, so did you see him?”

The butler nodded and Damian stiffened, hands coming up to clutch at Pennyworth’s pant leg with slight panic. Of course the butler would reveal him, the man is obviously more loyal to a fellow pack member than a random pup! Damian wanted to evaporate with shame, this was now two blunders in a row.

“Hmm, indeed I have. Master Damian ran off that way,” the butler spoke, casually waving his hand towards the other end of the kitchen.

“Great, I’m gonna catch up with him and-”

Pennyworth shook his head and interrupted the man, “Wait a second master Dick. Perhaps it would be best if you let the pup come to you.”

“Oh, but-” Dick hesitated, stumbling over his words, “I don’t wanna leave him with a bad first impression. Kid kinda seemed on edge..”

“Hm, and chasing after said pup like a dog after a squirrel would leave a more favorable impression than clearing things up later?” Pennyworth asked, his tone neutral and yet somehow conveying his sarcasm at the same time.

It took a moment for Dick to process his words, before a look of defeated realization crossed his face and he slouched dramatically against the doorway. “Yeahhh,” the man said, drawing the word out in a disheartened groan, “You’re probably right… shit , I totally scared him more by running after him.”

“That you have,” Pennyworth briefly glanced down at Damian again, so fast that Damian would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring intently at the butler, waiting to see if he’d go back on this decision to keep him hidden, “And master Dick, perhaps watch your language around the manor for some time. A pup shouldn’t hear such vulgarities.”

A thunk sounded out as Dick let his head fall against the doorway, “Shoot, yes, I meant shoot. Sorry Alfred.”

Pennyworth let out a soft chuckle, “It is alright my boy, we will all have to adjust our habits. Now, how about you help me with breakfast and set the table. For three.”

Dick straightened his posture and did a heartened salute, “You got it Alfie.”

Damian listened as the man shuffled around and pulled out what seemed to be a set of plates and some cutlery. He didn’t move until the sounds eventually left the kitchen and into the small dining room off to the side.

With the man gone, Damian felt relief and awe flood him. Relieved he had shaken his Father’s ward with the help of the butler and in awe of the butler’s own apparent status. 

Both the man and the butler were beta’s, but the man looked to be one of, if not, the eldest of Father’s children (from what Damian had been told). That would clearly put him far higher up in the ranks than a mere beta servant. But Pennyworth had not only been able to scold him, but also gave the man a task to do. That the man then followed without protest . 

This must mean the butler was regarded more favorably by Father! He must have done many impressive feats to gain this respect and rise so high in the ranks. A new sense of admiration took over Damian as he stared up, wide eyed, at the butler.

“Now,” Pennyworth spoke softly, interrupting his thoughts, “What was that all about, master Damian?”

Damian felt shame wash over him again as he spoke, “A failure on my end, butler Pennyworth. I miscalculated my course of action and ran straight into that ward of Father’s. I am terribly ashamed of this blunder.”

“I do not think bumping into someone by accident requires shame, young master,” Pennyworth said while shaking his head, “Embarrassing or not though, I am more curious as to why you led master Dick on this goose chase. He typically doesn’t frighten children. Did he do something to scare you?”

“He did no such thing!” Damian bristled, annoyed at this interpretation of events both men seemed to have. He hadn’t been scared by the man, just simply taken aback. His own slip up was abhorrent to think of as well. Was running away the best reaction? Perhaps not, but Damian simply wanted to extract himself from the situation and pretend it didn’t happen. How was he to know the fool would follow him? Damian cleared his throat, “I just did not want to talk to the man in such conditions.” Or at all.

“Well, would you like to help me finish up breakfast and then we can both greet him together?”

Damian nodded, “That would be adequate.”

They spent the next few minutes together in mostly silence as Pennyworth finished cooking some omelets and Damian took over the chopping of fruit at the cutting board (with the help of a step stool, as he was unfortunately too short to fully reach the counters, a trend that he annoyingly started to notice).

“Very well done young master,” Pennyworth complimented after Damian finished with a basket of strawberries, “I must say, you are very skilled at cutting fruit for such a young age.”

Damian preened at the butler’s words but played it off with a haughty scoff, “Tt- this is nothing. I may not be well versed in the culinary arts but I’ve been trained with the blade long enough to know how to handle a simple kitchen knife. The skills of precise cutting just happen to translate well with the chopping of fruit.”

He waited for Pennyworth to be impressed, but all he got out of his explanation for such skills was a quiet displeasured hum. Curse it all, the man must have found the dismissal of his original compliment to be distasteful! Maybe he thought Damian was too egotistical now… he needed to be more careful with his words to make sure he didn’t disrespect the man.

Pennyworth made no further comment as he put the omelets onto a platter that held an assortment of other foods. He took some fancy hand towels out of a drawer and looked down at Damian, “Let us go into the dining room now. I am sure master Dick is ecstatic to meet you.”

He nodded, grabbing his board full of fruits and mentally prepared himself. This man, ‘Dick’ as Pennyworth addressed him, seemed to be oddly eager to converse with Damian. This could be due to Damian being perceived as an unbonded pup in a pack’s territory, or more likely the man wanted to size Damian up and assert himself as someone with power in this house. At least the butler seemed to slightly like him, maybe that'd make the man ease off a bit… or it could make him more annoyed with Damian. He felt unease coil up in his chest as they got to the doorway.

Dick was leaning against the dining room table on his phone and almost slammed it down when he looked up and saw Alfred walk in with Damian, “Alfred, you-”

“Yes, I have found the pup and thought it best we all introduced ourselves over breakfast.”

The man absentmindedly nodded as he locked eyes with Damian, who had a stoic look on his face. “Smart, smart. I guess I should start since you guys already seem to know each other,” he said as he rounded the table.

Damian tensed when the man got closer, clenching his fruit board closer to his chest. Dick crouched down to be at eye level with him.

“Hi Damian, sorry for giving you a scare earlier, I guess my brain blanked at finally getting to see you. A bit silly of me, huh?” Dick softly chuckled before continuing, “Anyways, I’m Richard Grayson, but everyone calls me Dick. What about you, any nicknames?”

The man was so bright eyed and cheerful, his scent rolling out in gentle waves that felt calming. It was disarming and made Damian glare at him, “Just Damian Al Ghul. Wayne, when I get the approval of Father.”

Grayson put a hand on his knee and pushed himself to fully stand back up, “You’re Bruce’s pup, so that makes you a Wayne already. You don’t need anyone’s approval for that bud.”

Damian’s expression turned unimpressed. Ha, as if he’d fall for that . Lulling him into a sense of security with that silly notion, this man would need to try harder than that to make Damian slip up. Well… Damian thought back to earlier at the staircase, slip up again . From now on, he will no longer act unsightly. He will be cautious but not easily pushed over. His standing as the only unclaimed member in this household may put him as the lowest rank, but that will not deter him! Damian is a pup, in their eyes, with limitless potential, and he must use that (along with his skills from the league) to get approval from his Father. Not to mention he was the only one truly related to the man. Once he got accepted into the pack, that should make the other members hesitate before thinking about pushing him around.

“Well,” Pennyworth spoke as he set the platter of food onto the table, “Now that we’re all acquainted, I think it’s best we eat.”

The butler sat down and Damian scurried to the opposite side, sitting in front of the old man. He looked up as Grayson followed after him, scowling as the man pulled out the seat next to Damian. Pennyworth slid a plate with hefty servings of food towards Damian. Eggs, fruit, toast, yogurt, and sausage, the works of a classic western breakfast. He then began to make a plate for Grayson, despite the man exasperatedly saying he could do it himself.

Idle chatter flowed between the two as breakfast went on, Damian poking at his food (it was a bit bland) and ignoring the least subtle glances in the world that Grayson kept shooting him.

“So for how long are you expecting to stay in Gotham master Dick?” Pennyworth asked after a while. That gave Damian pause, did the man not live in the manor?

Grayson gave a considering hum, “Well, I don’t know for sure. Kind of packed up and left last minute yesterday when I got your message about, uh, Damian’s arrival.”

“Does that mean you’ll be returning to Bludhaven soon?”

“Nah, I think I’ll definitely hang around for a while. Maybe a month or so. Kinda help out so the kid can adjust quickly, considering how awkward Bruce can come off when it comes to family stuff. Speaking of which..” Grayson furrowed his brows, “Where is he? Shouldn’t he be joining us for breakfast? Considering.. y’know..”

Damian straightened up in his seat at that. The chatter from Grayson so far had been inane, but this was a question he was interested to hear the answer to as well. Pennyworth asked for the table to be set for three, so he obviously knew it was going to be just them. 

Pennyworth grimaced. He set his cutlery down and sighed, his own brows coming together in what seemed to be annoyance.

“Master Bruce decided to go on patrol with master Tim last night after Miss. Al Ghul left, against my better judgement I must add. He claimed he would be too exhausted for breakfast when he got back and said that he needed time to rest. He asked for me to take care of the child's needs for the day,” Pennyworth replied, the slightest hint of irritation in his tone.

Damian stiffened, staring down at the omelet on his plate and trying not to shrink in on himself. He had heard of how busy Father was, looking after a whole city, so it made sense he had to take care of all that. He was a vigilante, a hero to the people as Mother once put it. Father had important priorities that must come first . Even though he desperately wanted to meet the man, he would not want to express these selfish desires if he only got in the way of his Father.

It also made sense that Pennyworth would be annoyed at this as well. He had to watch over Damian per his Father’s request. Damian didn’t need someone to watch over him, he wasn’t some thoughtless child, but it must be to make sure he didn’t cause a ruckus. It was the smart thing to do. He was an unknown in their territory, something they needed to assess. They needed to evaluate his worthiness. It was just a shame that the butler had to break his routine and be the person to do so. Damian would have to learn the rules of this place and adapt quickly so that Father wouldn't need to bother Pennyworth to look after him.

“Are you serious?” Dick set down his fork rather harshly on his plate, the clinking of metal against porcelain reverberating in the quiet dining room. “He went on patrol when Talia left? Has he even talked to the kid?”

Pennyworth seemed to hesitate at that, “I'm… afraid not. He claims he will do so later today.”

An overwhelming smell of mint and sour mango suddenly bombarded the room with those words. Damian scrunched his nose at the harshness and almost flinched from the sheer anger rolling through it. Damian had to push down the urge to slip under the table to distance himself from the fuming beta next to him.

“You're kidding, right?” Dick growled out, “I know Bruce has the emotional capacity of a rock, but you're telling me he hasn't even spoken to his own son yet? This pup that was dropped off here, basically the house of an unknown pack for the kid, and Bruce ignored him?!”

“Master Dick, I know you are upset, and you have every right to be, but please mind yourself around the pup!” Pennyworth scolded.

The overbearing scent almost immediately dissipated when Dick whipped his head to look at Damian. The anger in his eyes melted away, an apologetic one in its place, “Oh shit, I'm sorry kiddo.”

Damian instantly sat up straight, crossing his arms and letting out an arrogant scoff, “You needn't worry about me. I am not affected by your silly outburst. I've been trained to ignore the flippant emotional scents of adults.”

Though typically it came from that of an alpha. A beta getting angry enough to let their scent run wild in the league was often seen as a sign of challenge towards the alphas. It always ended in a fight for dominance. Typically the alpha won due to their brutalistic fighting styles, but on the rare occasion a beta won, they would be given the chance to receive a higher rank. It wasn't the most stable rank though as more often than not, it was beta’s in command who had the most alpha’s challenging them. The risks far outweighed the reward, both in injury and the continued threats from alpha’s, enough that the majority of beta’s kept a tight leash on their scents in public spaces.

Grayson shook his head. “No, that wasn't cool of me. Regardless of…” his face contorted into a disgusted expression, “whatever you've been taught, I bet it's still uncomfortable. I promise I'll be more considerate to you pup.” His voice was so remorseful for such an insignificant thing that it took Damian aback.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Damian looked down at his half eaten plate of food. He didn't know how to respond to this. Damian bit the inside of his cheek and softly grumbled, “It's fine.” He'd never had someone apologize for how they could possibly be affecting him with their scent. The uncomfortable pressure of haywire scents suddenly exploding with negative emotions, most often during training, happened so often at the League. It was one of the first things he was taught to bear, and as long as he wasn't the target for those unrestrained outbursts, he could easily deal with the effects it had on him. 

To have the offender reign it back in so quickly, and even feel bad for how it affected Damian… was odd. It was odd, and weird, and didn't make sense. Grayson was a higher status than him, he shouldn't care how Damian was affected by things.

“Damian you don't..” the man hesitated, seemingly trying to find the right words, “You- I know we just met, but I hope you know that we don't follow league standards here. You're a pup , you shouldn't have to deal with stuff like that.”

Grayson was frowning at Damian, his brows furrowing when he got no response. Just when he was about to talk again, Pennyworth piped up, “Enough with this talk. How about we all head out after breakfast to pick some things up for young master Damian. I had already planned to do so today anyways. We can make it a family outing.”

Grayson turned to the butler and smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, “That’s a great idea Alfred. I think it'll be fun, even if a certain someone is upstairs sleeping and missing out on this family outing.” Grayson's scent slightly spiked with his words, but after a subtle glance at Damian, it settled back down.

Pennyworth simply shook his head, “Indeed. Enough with that though, you two go get ready. I expect us to be out the door by the time I'm finished cleaning up breakfast.”

“I'll help you butler Pennyworth,” Damian said, slinking out of his chair, about to pick up his plate. Before he could grab it though, Pennyworth reached a hand out and smoothly slid the plate out of his reach.

“That is quite alright, young master. You can help me by getting ready,” Pennyworth neatly stacked the plates and silverware and disappeared into the kitchen before Damian could protest.

He went to follow after Pennyworth and insist on helping, not wanting to give up that easily on aiding the butler in his duties, but Grayson blocked his way.

“Nuh-uh, you heard the man Damian, you need to get ready to go out,” he placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head with a teasing smile, “You don't want to disobey Alfred’s commands. Trust me, I would know.”

This made Damian pause, considering his words carefully. Did the butler get mad when people didn't follow his orders, even to help? It.. it could make sense, Damian sees how that would be disrespectful. Grayson had also easily given in when Pennyworth had given him a task…. If he, a member of this pack, second to Father (or third to Pennyworth?) gave into the butler's commands so easily, then so should Damian. “I see,” he solemnly nodded, “I almost made a terrible mistake again… thank you for the advice Grayson.”

“Ah, I didn't-” Grayson faltered, “I was just joking Damian, you don't have to take it seriously. I'm sure Alfred would appreciate your help! Uhm, though I do think we should get ready.”

“I understand, there is no need to sugarcoat it, Grayson. I wish not to incur Pennyworth's anger.”

“Really kid, it's-” looking at Damian’s very stone serious face, Grayson just dropped his arms and sighed, “Agh, whatever. Come on, I'll take you back to your room.”

Damian had to stop himself from snapping that he already knew the way. He was perfectly capable of going to his room alone, surely Grayson knew this as they had run into each other at the hallway that led to his room. The man did just help him out though… it'd be rude to brush him off.

Damian nodded, he'd relent this time and let Grayson think he was helping, “...Okay, lead the way.”

Grayson smiled and grabbed his hand, leading them to the foyer. Damian stumbled after him, having to take long strides to match Grayson’s steps, and stared at his hand with a disgusted expression. 

It didn't take long to reach Damian's room, and when they did, he ripped his hand out of the man's hold, “I will get ready now.”

He rushed into his room, barely hearing Grayson's, “Alrighty!” as the door shut behind him. 

He spent at most two minutes looking through his bag before coming to the conclusion that he was not given clothes appropriate for the weather. He had thought that the majority of his clothing were those he wore for training, but he didn't realize it was... all of it. The thin material was not made for the cold or harsh winds. Even his shoes were lightweight and meant for agility over comfort.

Damian debated layering his shirt with another, but ultimately decided he didn't need it. He grabbed his shoes and left the room, heading back down to the foyer. It was fine. Perhaps this was Mother's way of telling him he needed to adapt to his environment. It would be slightly unpleasant, the coldness from the night before being an indicator, but nothing Damian couldn't handle. Endurance against harsh climates was something he had trained for, of course. This would be nothing compared to the snowy mountain he once was dropped off at for a month. 

He got back down to the main entrance and put his shoes on, before standing awkwardly while waiting for either Grayson or Pennyworth to arrive.

Damian didn't know whether to dread or be excited about this outing. On one hand, it would be his first time actually seeing Gotham. Sure he had seen pictures and read about the place, but this would be his first time actually in the city. The car ride didn't count, he'd been too engrossed in his thoughts to look out the window all that much and appreciate the scenery.

Damian heard the creaking of floorboards and turned around to see Grayson descending the stairs , dressed in blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. He paused when he saw Damian, halting his steps completely, “You didn't change?”

Damian straightened and puffed out his chest, “I didn't need to.”

Shaking his head, Grayson made it all the way down and stopped next to Damian, “I don't know buddy, the temperature has been dropping fast, I don't want you to get chilly.”

“I'll be fine. ”

“Still, I think you should put a jacket on at the very least." Damian didn't budge at his words and Grayson sighed, "You know... I don't think Alfred is going to be very happy seeing that you didn't change. I don't even think he'll let you out in such thin clothes.”

Deflating a bit, Damian bit his lip and looked off to the side, “I- I don't have one! And I don't need it!”

Grayson blinked owlishly down at him, “Oh, that's- that's okay! Did you forget to pack one? Do you have any thicker shirts then?”

Shaking his head, Damian grumbled, “No. I only have my training clothes. Mother saw it fit enough and so do I. I'm grateful for her thoughtfulness. It'll help me adapt to the cold environment of Gotham faster.”

Grayson stared down at him in disbelief, opening his mouth, seeming to reconsider what he was about to say and shutting it, before letting out a strangled sigh. “That is, certainly, a way to adapt, I guess? Honestly, shouldn't even be surprised, this is Talia we're talking about.” The last part was muttered under his breath and made Damian bristle.

“What does that mean?!”

“No, no, nothing,” Grayson waved his words off, “I just should have guessed. It doesn't matter though, I'm sure I have a jacket from when I was your age stored somewhere.”

Grayson’s eyes lit up, “In fact, I think I have just the one in mind! Give me one second.” He ran up the stairs without waiting for Damian to respond.

Groaning, Damian leaned against the wooden railing, rubbing at his face in annoyance. 

This was stupid, he didn't need a jacket. It was a bit cold, but so what? Sure his shirt was thin, so what? He didn't need to be pitied and looked down upon! It was simply a slight inconvenience and Grayson didn't have to cause such a big fuss. He only allowed the man to run off because he was wary of Pennyworth's reaction. Damian didn't want to shame himself in front of the man because he was so ill prepared. It wasn't even his fault… Damian would have packed more if he had been given the chance.

There was a lot of stuff he had to leave behind in his Mother's haste to leave. A lot of weapons he had gained from personal achievements, his special outfits for ceremonies and celebrations (he wouldn't admit it, but the luxurious fabrics and complex designs were much more favorable to him than the drab training clothes), his personal book collection… everything. Damian wondered if Mother would send any of those to him.

That is to say if his items remained untouched. He didn't know how Grandfather would react to his sudden departure, whether he wouldn't care at all or would be downright infuriated. Have his items destroyed for leaving without notice. Maybe he'd be upset Mother didn't let Damian say goodbye (and he possibly could have, cover his scent and say he was leaving for a mission. Something that wouldn't be suspicious and would explain his absence). Grandfather was hard to predict sometimes. All Damian knew is that regardless of if he had left or not, as soon as his status as an omega was revealed, the man would find him distasteful.

It didn't matter in the end. He had no right to get attached to his belongings, they were all temporary. All of it. There were greater things to focus on.

One of those being the footsteps descending the stairs again.

“Alright Dami,” Grayson ran over to where he was still standing at the bottom steps he had been left at, “I got some old pair of boots that I think will fair better than your current shoes, and my favorite jacket from when I was your age!”

The sudden nickname caught him off guard and Damian glowered, “Don’t call me that.”

“Hmm, only if you stop calling me Grayson,” the man said, a satisfied grin on his face as he came to a stop in front of him.

Damian just rolled his eyes, about to make another retort when he finally registered what Grayson was holding. He had a large black jacket over one arm and a horrific smaller one on top of it, supposedly meant for Damian. It was a red monstrosity. 

The color reminded him of cherries, specifically the ones he would get during special occasions in the league. The subtly sweet aroma would enrapture Damian every time, and he savored the tarty saccharine as it was never known when he'd get them again.

The rich color of those cherries were something he admired about the fruit. It was bold and beautiful, pleasant to see. It being on such a large item however… was just so… loud . Not to mention the fur collar at the neck and the handful of yellow star patches sewn onto the coat at random. It was... “Obnoxiously bright… this garment will make me stand out. I do not wish to wear it.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like you need to blend in! Plus,” Grayson threw the coat over his shoulder, “It’s made of wool and will keep you far warmer than that thin shirt you have on. Now come on, let’s put your shoes on.”

Damian sighed and reluctantly sat down on the first step of the staircase, neatly slipping his current shoes off. He reached a hand out for the boots expectantly. Grayson only stared back at him before kneeling, “I’ll help you put them on.”

Damian leaned back in surprise, “What? Why? Do you think I’m not capable of putting on shoes myself? That is a ridiculous assumption!”

Grayson only laughed, “No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just… you’re a pup. A pup in my pack. It’s only natural that I want to help you.”

This shocked Damian enough that Grayson was able to easily slide both boots on with no protest from the boy. He mumbled something about ‘bunny ears’ as he began to loop the lace around. It was when he finished tying the first into a little bow when Damian snapped out of his stupor. He frowned down at the man, “I am not a member of your pack.”

That made Grayson stop his movement for a brief second, a complicated look flashed across his face that Damian couldn’t quite decipher. “Mmm, I guess not yet,” Grayson said softly, slowly threading the last loop he had paused on, “But you will be, soon enough. I might as well get a head start on your favorite brother spot.”

Not knowing how to respond to that, Damian kept silent as Grayson reached for the obscenely colored coat. What did his words mean? Did ranks in this pack rely on small acts of service rather than feats of skill? Was it a combination of both? Regardless, why would Grayson, the eldest ward, care to appear favorable to Damian? The man couldn’t be threatened by him yet, he was a new pup who hadn't proven his worth to Father, so if anything it was him who had to gain Grayson’s favor. Not that he ever would want to, Father was the only one he wanted recognition from. So despite all this, why was Grayson doing this silly act? It logically made no sense.

“Arms up, like an airplane,” Grayson said teasingly as he raised the jacket. 

Damian followed his orders, standing stiffly, arms perfectly horizontal as Grayson tugged the winter coat onto him. Despite it being from when Grayson was his age, it almost immediately engulfed Damian. He looked down at himself and grimaced as Grayson started buttoning him up in this woolen prison. Damian had complaints.

The shoulder seams were in fact not at his shoulder, but instead sat awkwardly on his upper arm. His hands barely peaked out of the cuffs and the bottom hem of the coat fell slightly past his knees. Above all that, the garment felt like it was air blasted with Grayson’s scent. Oddly enough though, it wasn’t that bothersome. It was just that the minty mango scent was very notable and seemed to surround Damian entirely. 

Despite all this, he had to reluctantly admit that it was warm and better than anything he had in his bags.

Grayson had a goofy grin on his face as he finished buttoning up the coat. “There!” He stood up and straightened the fur collar, giving it a pat to smooth it down, “All done. How is it?”

Lowering his arms, Damian examined himself. He felt he looked a bit ridiculous. “It is… adequate, and will do its required job. However, it should be washed immediately. It reeks of you.”

Grayson laughed at that, “Good. You don't have the pack scent yet, so this will be a temporary fix to keep people away.” Grayson ruffled his hair and Damian squeaked in surprise. Grayson only laughed harder as Damian backed out of his reach and furiously tried to fix the messed up strands. He glowered at the man and got a toothy grin in return.

Pennyworth walked up just at that moment, already appropriately dressed for the weather. A prim dark brown coat, brown cap, and black gloves, ready to go, “Shall we depart?”

”Yep,” Grayson said as he threw on his own jacket, “All good here! Let me just-” He hurried to a small door off to the side of the entrance, opening it up and rifling through what seemed to be a small closet. He emerged soon enough with a pair of small brown gloves and earmuffs, "Here Dami, take these."

Damian instantly shook his head, “This is simply over the top. I do not need anymore protection from the weather, this heinous red thing is sufficient enough.”

Grayson only shook his head in return, “Fall in Gotham can be very harsh Damian, you never know when or how fast the temperature will drop.”

Damian was about to protest when Pennyworth spoke up, “He is quite right, young master. The breeze brought in by the sea does make everything chillier, we wouldn't want you catching a cold on your first day here. How disastrous that would be...”

“I am not weak!” Damian protested, “I can handle cold weather, my training has made sure of it. I do not need to be dressed like a fool and coddled like some pathetic infant!”

Pennyworth tutted, “Young master, I'm wearing gloves and a hat myself. Do you fancy me pathetic for taking precautions against the cold?”

Damian shrunk into himself. He didn’t mean to seem like he was insulting the butler! “That's different! You're just… optimizing your comfortability!”

“Well,” Grayson said as he tried, and failed, to put the earmuffs on Damian, “You should be comfortable from the cold too!”

“But I don't need it! I can handle the cold!” Damian dodged another attempt at the earmuffs from Grayson.

“Why handle it when you can be comfortable? This is your first outing into Gotham young master, I would wish for you to enjoy yourself and not end up shivering for the sake of a misplaced sense of pride.” Pennyworth scolded, shaking his head.

Damian bit his tongue a bit too hard as he held back from shouting at the beta, the faint taste of metallic filling his mouth. He didn't want to be coddled, he didn't need comfort, but he didn't want to argue with the butler (or Grayson) and get scorned. He was still the lowest on the totem pole and he didn't know how much patience they had left for him. “Tt- fine!” Damian relented, before pointing an accusing finger at Grayson, “But he has to wear some as well!”

“Okay!” Grayson said happily, finally putting the earmuffs over Damian's head. He fiddled with it, making sure they were in place over his ears, “I was planning to anyways.”

Damian's face went red and he ripped the gloves meant for him out of Grayson's hands, rushing towards the front door, “Let's get this ridiculous outing over with!”

Pennyworth shook his head and followed after him, “No need for the dramatics young master. I'm sure this ‘ridiculous’ outing will turn out to be fun for us all.”

Sighing, Damian shoved his hands into the gloves and glowered as Pennyworth opened the door. ‘Fun’, Damian scoffed. As if, the only thing that will remotely resemble him having ‘fun’ would be the drive back to meet his Father. But that was for later, thinking of it now would make the anticipation kill Damian. 

No, for now he had to focus on getting this ridiculous outing over with. Dread filled him as Grayson gestured him towards the car.

This would be a long day.