Work Text:
“It’s the only way.”
Damian sighs. He presses his hands over his eyes, which would normally be an inexcusable show of weakness for the Head Alpha of House Wayne, but he can’t even care anymore.
It’s the fifth time that Richard has said those exact words. The fifth time that Richard — brave, selfless, ignorant Richard — has tried to convince Damian to sell him to House Wilson in exchange for the protection they so desperately need.
The fifth time today, that is. Damian has lost count of the number of times they’ve had this conversation since Bruce d—went missing.
Died. He died. You have to admit it to yourself.
Damian pushes the voice away and removes his hands from his eyes. He looks at Richard — really looks at him, standing there across the desk that Damian still can’t quite believe he’s sitting at. Richard is twelve, now. Almost impossible to believe — Damian remembers when he first came to them, a grieving six-year-old whose entire world had shattered around him — and twice as impossible to ignore. Twelve is the age of maturity for omegas. Which Richard is — the only one in their family.
Which Richard is already growing into, his breasts becoming rounder and fuller by the day, his hips widening, his waist drawing in. With his thick, dark hair falling past the small of his back and his arresting blue eyes, he could have his pick of any of the alphas at court. He’s supposed to have his pick of any alpha at court. He’s supposed to be presented, this season. Supposed to talk to them, to spend time with them. To find the one that he wants, instead of the one that he has to have.
The problem, of course, is that Damian is only seventeen. And eighteen — not twelve — is the age of maturity for alphas. With his father gone, the Wayne claim to their lands is shakier than it has been for three generations, at least until Damian comes of age in four short months.
It might as well be a lifetime for all the good it’s doing them now.
“If I marry Lord Wilson,” Richard is saying, dogged and determined and oblivious to Damian’s swirling thoughts. “Then House Wilson will be our ally. They border us on three sides, Dami. If they’re not our ally, they’re our enemy, and we can’t afford for them to be our enemy.”
Damian does not allow his expression to change, but he feels a chill in his gut. Richard is absolutely right. Everything he’s saying is right, is true, and it’s all because Damian himself isn’t strong enough to protect them otherwise. He feels like a child in front of this literal child.
“You know I’m right,” Richard says, his chin set mulishly. “It’s the only way.”
Damian sighs and opens his arms. “Come here,” he says quietly.
Richard hesitates for only a moment before his shoulders slump slightly and he plods around the desk until he’s standing in front of Damian’s chair. Damian gathers him onto his lap. It’s more difficult now than it had been when he was seven, but omegas’ bodies are soft and yielding and Damian feels instantly better when Richard is settled across his legs. He buries his nose in Richard’s hair, breathing in the sweet omega scent, and runs his hand gently over Richard’s scent gland on his neck.
Richard, for all that he’s trying to hold himself steady — clearly suspicious of being brushed off again — gives a little sigh and relaxes into Damian’s shoulder.
“Do you know that it would kill me,” Damian says after a moment. “To lose you?”
He feels, rather than sees, Richard tense up again. Damian keeps his nose against Richard’s head, though, stroking his thumb across the nape of Richard’s neck, and after a moment, Richard relaxes again.
“I know,” he says, voice slightly muffled by Damian’s shirt. Damian is heartened by this, if nothing else: by Richard’s easy acceptance of Damian’s love for him. That, at least, is something he’s done right. “But you wouldn’t lose me, Dami. I’d be just across the south woods. I bet Lord Wilson would let me come visit whenever I wanted.”
That, Damian knows, is manifestly false. Lord Wilson is the epitome of a strong, traditional alpha. Any omega claimed by him would be kept under lock and key, likely not even allowed out of Lord Wilson’s bedroom, let alone out of his house or off his lands.
He can’t bring himself to tell Richard that, though. He breathes out carefully, then in again.
“I will fix this,” Damian promises, holding Richard close. “I will figure out a way to fix this. I promise you, Richard. I will keep you safe.”