Chapter Text
Bruce had never thought about the possibility of being a parent. The danger being a demigod and his nightly activities posed seemed like it would never allow for it. Maybe somewhere deep in his black, emotionless soul (no Alfred, it wasn't "brooding" or "unhealthy thought patterns" if it was true), he thought about children. How nice it would be to teach a little human wrong from right, to feel their unconditional love, to hear laughter and life in the manor again…
No! Even if that was how life would pan out for him, which he severely doubted it would, Bruce was only in his early twenties. There was still at least a decade of life in front of him, provided he wasn't unlucky enough to run afoul of a monster that proved to be too much one day, human or mythological. Then again, that was what the training was for. How disappointed would his parents be if he dedicated himself to eliminating crime, only to die after barely three years without making a dent.
Images of two crossed swords and a whip burned into his mind. That goddess might have given him life and his hunger for vengeance, but he was Martha's son.
Perhaps thoughts like these were why Alfred coerced him into forgoing his usual patrol and visiting the circus instead. Well… he had been hearing good things about the Flying Graysons. Maybe he would be able to enjoy himself tonight.
They were beautiful. So light on their feet, the acrobat couple seemed almost blessed by the gods. Bruce swore he saw feathers on the husband's feet for just a moment. He was probably being ridiculous though. They soared, flipped, twisted, fell…
And fell.
And fell.
Everyone else screamed. Some looked away, others covered the eyes of their children. Bruce felt his gaze shift to the boy on the platform who had just watched his entire world shatter with the snap of a rope. The crowd was ushered out in the aftermath. Before his mind had time to process, Bruce was already in the centre of the performance area shielding the boy's view. He couldn't change the fact that the last remaining Grayson had seen such a horrible thing, but there was no reason to keep him staring at it. The boy cried into his shoulders while he learned that the his name was Dick Grayson. Bruce asked what would become of him, if the child had any relatives. He did not.
"I'll take him," his mouth said before he could think. The idea of Dick dealing with this trauma while in Gotham's Foster system was not something he wanted to imagine. He would take the classes, get the license. Anything.
Thankfully, but disappointingly, the officers involved handed him over without too much push-back. It was unusual given he wasn't a friend or family, but made sense. They wouldn't have to put in the effort to find an emergency placement and the system was already overloaded as it was. It still made Bruce frown, making a note to look closer at Gotham's Foster system as Batman later.
For now, however, his attention was fully on his new ward. Even in the boy's grief there was something graceful about him, something unnatural that made Bruce want to hold him, cling to his every word despite the fact Dick hadn't said a thing.
Bruce would have taken him in regardless, but the aura that surrounded Dick made him surer in his decision. He needed to get to know the boy, to unravel the mystery that was Dick Grayson.
Their progress was slow, but steady. Dick began to open up, crack jokes, climb on the chandeliers. Bruce took a sample of his hair and a test confirm what he had been expecting. Dick was a demigod. It didn’t take him too long to discover that Bruce was Batman and demand to be trained. He was reluctant, but when he sees an oh-so-familiar rage in the child's eyes, he caves. With no outlet, that anger will destroy him.
Before Dick can begin learning how to fight, however, Bruce decides he must be made aware of the mythological dangers as well as the human ones.
"So you're saying one of my parents wasn't my real parent?" he asked, the happy and mischievous persona he wore like armor slipping.
"They were your real parents," Bruce explained in his best attempt to be gentle, "The love and care they gave you for nine years was real. But yes, one of your biological parents was a god."
"And you're one too?"
"Yes."
"Well then," Dick replied, his smile returning, "I guess that is pretty cool…"
It was the night before their first patrol together that Bruce saw her. Dick 's nightmares had become less frequent, but on nights he returned late or found himself unable to sleep, Bruce was compelled to check on him. His mind refused to be put at ease until he saw his son ward safe in bed, chest rising and falling. This night, he walked in to find Dick asleep with his head in a woman's lap. Instinct screamed at Bruce to fight and protect, but this woman's presence demanded obedience. The present caught up with him and the man kneeled.
"Lady Aphrodite Areia."
The woman was absolutely breathtaking with a scent of roses and blood that flooded the room. A spear stamped with doves was on the bed at her side.
"Batman, pride of Nemesis," she said calmly. She looked like Martha, then gained Silver's eyes, next, Selina's brows…
"What brings you here?" he questioned, but not disrespectfully. The Batman side of his brain had been activated, but Bruce had enough self-preservation to keep his tone even.
"I would like to thank you for taking care of my little dove for me. You will tell him he is mine. You will protect him," the goddess said in a way that made clear this was not a request.
"Of course, my lady," he said simply. One would think the gods would lose interest with age as new children of theirs emerged, but he supposed that he signed up for this when he took in Dick.
"He will do great things," she stated before stroking the boy's hair and vanishing.
Now that their was no risk of offending a goddess, Bruce let out a sigh of relief. It was an answer to the question he and most likely Dick had been asking themselves since the boy's demigod heritage had been revealed. It wasn't a huge surprise, given Dick's natural charm and gravitas combined with the fact he would undeniably be a beautiful young man once he grew, though Hermes also would have made sense.
Come morning, he would share the incident with Dick. After getting over his disappointment over not being awake for the ordeal, the child would give him a smirk.
"I was kind of hoping we would share a parent, but I guess it's a good thing we don't. Wouldn't have wanted to end up looking like you."
"And what do you mean by that?" the older man asked with a raised brow, attempting to suppress a smile of his own.
"Your face," he said with faux-seriousness.
"What's wrong with my face?"
"It makes you look like a rich jerk!" Dick responded with a giggle that warmed Bruce's heart.
"Why, I'd never," he responded with false indignation as the boy took off.
That evening, Robin debuted. Whispers of the new brightly-coloured vigilante swirled alongside tales of the Bat. If some stories just so happened to include hazy creatures turning into golden dust, shadows seemingly melding in just the right way to hide Gotham's two protectors, and a little bird who had a voice that could compel even the hardest criminals to surender, well… how could you prove that?