Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson had been through a lot in his life. He had faced gods, monsters, and masterminds who thought they were playing chess while he was already flipping the board. He had been a son, a leader, a spy, a rogue, and a hero. But if there was one thing he was truly, universally tired of, it was the Court of Owls.

They had tried to take him before, multiple times. First, as a child. Then, as a teenager. Again, when he became Nightwing. And now? Now, they were getting bold.

The first time he noticed their return was subtle—a whisper, a shift in Gotham’s underbelly, a too-familiar insignia carved into the wall outside one of his safehouses. He barely gave it a second glance, hopping over rooftops as if nothing had happened. But the signs kept coming. A letter slipped into his apartment, sealed with their mark. A Talon’s mask left on his motorcycle, positioned so perfectly that only someone who knew his habits could have placed it there. A whisper in his comms, cutting through Oracle’s encrypted line.

“Come home, Gray Son.”

Dick crushed the earpiece between his fingers.

It Escalates

At first, he ignored them. The Court thrived on control, on fear, on making their victims feel like prey. And Dick Grayson was nobody’s prey.

So he kept living his life, cracking jokes with the Titans, dodging Damian’s assassination attempts at breakfast, and casually breaking into Gotham’s most secure buildings just to prove he still could. If the Court thought they could shake him, they were in for a rude awakening.

Then, they stopped being subtle.

An entire patrol squad in Blüdhaven vanished overnight. No bodies, no traces, just gone. Dick had been investigating a trafficking ring when he found their bodies—propped up, faces frozen in agony, with the Court’s symbol carved into their chests. A message.

A warning.

He still didn’t flinch.

But then came the framing.

Bruce called him at 3 AM, his voice a quiet storm. “Dick. There’s a warrant for your arrest.”

That caught his attention.

Dick barely listened as Bruce explained. “Solid evidence” tied Nightwing to multiple break-ins, assaults—even a murder in Gotham. Fabricated footage, stolen fingerprints, a frame-up so meticulous that it could fool even the League’s best detectives.

They weren’t just coming for him. They were trying to erase him.

So he sighed, cracked his knuckles, and said, “Alright. Now I’m pissed.”

A Warning from the Past

“You’re being reckless.”

Dick glanced up from his spot on the fire escape, where he’d been watching Blüdhaven’s skyline, legs dangling over the edge. Jason Todd stood behind him, arms crossed, looking more pissed than usual.

“Nice to see you too, Jaybird.”

Jason ignored him. “You’ve been dodging all of us for weeks. Bruce is growling at shadows, Tim’s analyzing every crime scene twice, Damian’s sharpening his swords more than usual, and Babs is ready to strangle you through the comms.”

Dick smirked. “So, a normal week?”

Jason grabbed his collar and yanked him back onto the roof. “Cut the crap, Dick.”

For a second, just a second, Dick saw it—the worry in Jason’s eyes. The sharp-edged, unspoken fear that the Court would take him again, that this time, they wouldn’t be able to pull him back. Jason masked it with anger, but Dick knew better.

“I’m fine.”

Jason scoffed. “Yeah? Then explain this.” He tossed something at Dick’s feet. A Talon’s dagger, still stained with blood. Dick’s blood.

Damn. He’d been hoping nobody would notice that.

“You’re not handling it,” Jason snapped. “You’re spiraling.”

Dick exhaled slowly. He could lie. He could deflect. Or—

“Jay, they’ve escalated.” His voice was quieter now, raw. “They’re not just trying to recruit me. They’re trying to erase me. And if I don’t stop them first… they might succeed.”

Jason didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sat down beside Dick, pulling out a cigarette but not lighting it.

“You tell Bruce yet?”

Dick smirked. “What do you think?”

Jason snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

“But a very charming idiot.”

Jason flicked him on the forehead.

...

The final warning came three nights later.

Dick had been on patrol when he felt it—that shift in the air, that sixth sense honed from years of being hunted. He wasn’t alone.

He flipped onto a rooftop, landing in a crouch, and found a figure waiting for him.

William Cobb.

His grandfather. His would-be captor. The Court’s deadliest Talon.

Dick didn’t move. “Y’know, for an immortal assassin, you guys are really predictable.”

Cobb’s voice was smooth, cold. “And for someone who claims to be free, you keep running in circles.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Cut the speech, Grandpa. I know why you’re here. You’re wasting your time.”

Cobb stepped forward. “Am I?”

A dozen Talons materialized from the shadows.

Dick tensed.

Cobb’s smirk widened. “You don’t have a choice, Richard. The Court has decided. You will lead us.”

Dick’s fingers twitched at his escrima sticks.

“And if I say no?”

Cobb’s eyes glowed in the moonlight. “Then we erase you.”

The Talons attacked.

Chapter Text

1. The Silence Before the Storm

The Batfamily had dealt with countless threats, but something about this time felt different. Off. Wrong.

Dick had been missing for twelve hours. Not answering calls was one thing—he had a habit of ignoring them when he was busy. But this? This was too long.

Barbara had torn through every camera in Gotham, searching for his last known location. Nothing. His tracker? Disabled. His safehouses? Untouched.

Then came the message.

Carved into the concrete outside the Clock Tower in bold, deliberate slashes:

"THE GRAY SON BELONGS TO US."

Barbara felt the chill run through her spine. The Court of Owls.

Her hands shook as she reached for her communicator. "Oracle to Bats. We have a problem."

2. Blood on the Pavement

Damian found them first.

Dick’s escrima sticks.

One was snapped in half. The other was stained with blood—too much blood.

He didn’t say a word. Just tightened his grip around the broken weapon. His brother had fought back. And now? Now, he was gone.

Jason was next to react. He didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed the nearest low-life off the street, slamming them against the alley wall. "Where the hell is Nightwing?"

The thug was shaking. "I-I don’t know, man!"

Jason cocked his gun. "Wrong answer."

It took exactly three minutes before he got his answer. The whispers. The murmurs in Gotham’s underworld.

"Nightwing’s been taken.""The Owls came for him.""The Gray Son is theirs now."

Jason let the thug go and stormed off, knuckles white around his gun.

3. The Bat Goes Silent

Bruce Wayne had gone completely still.

Tim had just hacked into surveillance footage. The last known sighting of Dick Grayson.

The Bats, the Titans, and Justice league all stood in tense silence as the footage played.

Dick, standing on the rooftop. Facing William Cobb.

A dozen Talons surrounded him.

Dick pulled out his escrima sticks, rolling his shoulders. Unbothered. Fearless. A smirk on his face as if they were nothing but another obstacle.

Then the fight started.

He was good. Too good. Even outnumbered, even surrounded—he was holding his own. Taking down Talons like they were training dummies. He was winning.

Then—

The gas.

Tim’s stomach dropped as Dick staggered. His movements slowed. Cobb didn’t even move as the Talons swarmed again. This time, Dick wasn’t fast enough.

The last thing the footage showed was Dick collapsing.

Then, the screen cut to black.

Nobody moved.

Bruce exhaled. Quiet. Cold. "We’re getting him back."

4. The Breaking Point

Jason punched the nearest wall so hard it cracked. "They are dead. Do you hear me?! Dead."

Tim had gone pale, fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his skin. He should have noticed earlier. He should have—

Damian stared at the screen, expression unreadable. But his grip on his sword was tight. "They took my brother." His voice was quiet. Dangerous. "They will regret it."

Barbara swallowed past the lump in her throat. This wasn’t like before. The Court wasn’t just playing their usual game. They had Dick.

And now? Now, they were at war.

5. The War Begins

Bruce stood.

"We move now."

No hesitation. No debate. Dick needed them. And the Court had just made the worst mistake of their existence.

Jason loaded his guns. "I don’t care what it takes."

Tim pulled up every known hideout of the Court. "We burn them to the ground."

Damian sharpened his sword. "I will gut them myself."

Barbara patched into every system she had access to. "They won’t see us coming."

The Titans and Justice league had already suited up, anger burning behind their eyes.

The Court thought they had won.

They were dead wrong.

Chapter Text

Pain was familiar. It was an old friend, one that Dick Grayson had long since learned to ignore. Bruised ribs, a split lip, the dull ache in his wrists from the iron cuffs that bit into his skin—it was all background noise. What mattered was where he was and how he was getting out.

The Court of Owls had finally done it.
They had taken him.

The Cage

He was in some kind of underground stronghold, chained to a stone pillar in a dimly lit chamber. The air was damp, thick with the scent of aged wood, burning candles, and something metallic—blood. A faint, rhythmic sound echoed through the space: the drip, drip, drip of water leaking through the cracks.

A low voice broke the silence.

"You're awake."

William Cobb.

Dick didn't even lift his head. "Wow, Grandpa, did you really have to go through all this effort? A simple text would’ve worked."

Cobb chuckled, stepping forward, his boots clicking against the stone. "Still defiant. Still foolish." He crouched before Dick, eyes glowing eerily in the candlelight. "You were born for this, Richard. The Court will not ask again."

Dick smirked despite the pain. "Oh, I don’t know. You’ve asked four times now—I’d say you’re on a roll."

Cobb's amusement vanished. He reached forward, grabbing Dick’s chin and forcing him to meet his gaze. "You cannot escape this time. The Court owns you."

Dick let out a breathless laugh. "See, that's where you're wrong."

Because he had already planned his escape.

Flashback – The Set-Up

Dick had known this was coming. The moment he saw the escalation in their tactics, he began laying traps. He mapped out the Court’s most likely strongholds, planted bugs on known Talons, and even let himself be followed to set up a false trail. If they were going to take him, it would be on his terms.

So when they finally got him—when the gas filled his safehouse and his vision blurred—he let it happen.

Because they thought they had won.

They had no idea he was already three steps ahead.

The Escape:

Cobb turned to the shadows. "Bring him."

Two Talons moved to unchain him, their grips firm as they yanked him to his feet. His arms were still bound, but his legs? Not so much.

The moment they tried to drag him forward, he struck.

A sharp kick to the knee sent one Talon stumbling. Before the other could react, he twisted, using the slack in the chains to loop them around the second Talon’s throat and pull. A gurgling noise filled the air before he dropped the unconscious body.

Cobb barely flinched. "Impressive."

Dick smirked. "Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet."

He dislocated his own thumb in a single fluid motion, slipping free of the cuffs just as more Talons surged forward.

The fight was brutal—fast, dirty, and precise. He used everything: the cuffs as a weapon, the environment as leverage, his own exhaustion as fuel. Every move had been pre-planned.

He took them down one by one, breathing hard but standing.

Then, he locked eyes with Cobb.

"You’ll never have me," Dick said, voice steady. "You never did."

And with that, he threw a hidden explosive at the him.

Chapter Text

The air was thick with tension, the sharp scent of ozone from exploded security measures lingering in the underground lair of the Court of Owls. The Batfamily, Titans, Young Justice, and Justice League had torn through waves of Talons, expecting the worst. The mission had been clear: retrieve Nightwing. Get him out alive. Bring him home.

They weren’t expecting him to meet them at the entrance.

The heavy doors of the Court’s stronghold had been blasted open moments ago, the dust still settling as the rescue team stood in stunned silence. In the middle of the threshold, completely unrestrained, stood Dick Grayson, the very man they had fought tooth and nail to save.

Unharmed.

Unchained.

Unbothered.

He dusted off his suit casually, his lips curving into an amused smirk as he took in the assembled forces before him.

Jason was the first to break the silence. “What the—”

“You’re uninjured.” Damian’s narrowed eyes flicked over him, disbelief creeping into his voice.

Bruce’s voice was quiet, deadly. “Explain.”

Dick raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “You didn’t think I actually needed saving, did you?”

The silence was deafening. The only sounds came from the distant groans of the defeated Talons, the occasional crackle of fire from the destruction they had left behind in their wake.

Jason’s jaw tightened. “We tore through an entire army for you, and you’re just—standing here?!”

Tim was already scanning for any sign of illusion, of deception, of some trick that would make this situation make sense. But there was none. This was real.

Barbara was the only one who seemed to find her voice, eyes narrowing. “Dick. What. Did. You. Do?”

Dick exhaled, rolling his shoulders before finally answering. “The Court thought they could break me. Thought they could use me. They were wrong.” His smirk sharpened. “Instead, I played them. Spent the past few days turning their own systems against them. Sabotaging their networks. Wreaking havoc from the inside.”

A flashback hit like a sucker punch.

Dick, shackled but watching. Listening. Memorizing.

A Talon turning his back for just a second too long—Dick slipping free, but not running. Not yet.

Whispered words, planted seeds of doubt among the Court’s ranks. A few well-placed disruptions. A silent takedown here, a subtle misdirection there.

And then, at the perfect moment, he set the whole operation on fire—metaphorically and literally.

Back in the present, the growing flames behind him flickered ominously, the entire underground stronghold crumbling as planned.

Jason ran a hand down his face. “You let yourself get taken.”

“Technically, yeah,” Dick admitted.

Barbara looked half ready to strangle him, half ready to hug him. “Are you insane?!”

Dick chuckled. “Probably. But it worked.”

Tim crossed his arms, mind racing. “So you… played them from the inside?”

“Like a damn fiddle,” Dick confirmed, clearly proud of himself.

Damian studied him for a long moment before letting out an impressed “Hmph. Efficient.”

Bruce, however, was unreadable. His fists were clenched, his jaw tight, but he said nothing for a long moment. And then—

“You should have told us.”

Dick sighed, shaking his head. “You would have tried to stop me.”

Jason, deadpan, turned to the others. “He’s actually insane.”

The sound of another explosion rumbled through the cavernous space. The Court of Owls, once thought untouchable, was now in complete ruin.

Dick stretched, as if he hadn’t just dismantled one of the most powerful secret societies in Gotham. “So, who’s buying dinner?”

Jason lunged at him.

Tim barely held Barbara back.

Bruce turned and walked away, because if he didn’t, he might actually yell.

The Titans and Young Justice were still standing there, staring, trying to process how much of a menace Dick Grayson truly was.

The Court of Owls had tried to own him.

Instead, he’d burned them to the ground.

Chapter Text

The Batcave was quieter than usual. The hum of the computers filled the space as the team settled in after everything that had happened. Gotham was still standing, the Court of Owls had been dealt with, and most importantly, Dick Grayson was home.

Jason sat on the edge of the Batcomputer’s console, tossing a batarang between his fingers. "So, we gonna talk about it?" he asked.

"About what?" Dick responded, stretched out on one of the chairs, looking more at ease than he should after everything. He twirled a pen between his fingers, idly flipping through some old files, as if he hadn’t just taken down an ancient order of assassins.

Tim scoffed. "You were gone for days, and you just waltz back in like nothing happened?"

Barbara leaned forward, arms crossed. "You had us worried, Dick. This wasn’t just some small-time rogue messing with you. The Court doesn’t just stop."

"I know," Dick said simply. "But I handled it."

Bruce, who had been standing in the shadows, finally stepped forward. "You didn’t have to handle it alone."

Dick met his gaze, something unreadable in his expression before he exhaled and smiled. "I know that now."

Damian frowned, arms crossed tightly. "Tt. It was reckless."

"It was calculated," Dick corrected with a grin. "And I’m still standing."

Jason rolled his eyes but smirked. "Barely."

A comfortable silence settled between them. No more arguing, no more worrying—just the familiar banter of family that had been through hell and back.

Eventually, Barbara sighed and stood up. "Fine. But next time, you tell us. No running off and handling it solo."

Dick gave a mock salute. "Yes, ma’am."

Bruce placed a firm hand on his shoulder, the closest thing to an apology or affection he would get. "Welcome home, Dick."

Dick smiled, finally letting himself relax. "Yeah. It’s good to be back."

The Batcave remained quiet, the chaos of the past few days finally settling into nothing but an afterthought. For now, at least, they were together. And that was enough.