Chapter Text
Damian dressed in his finest clothing. And as a prince of the Bluebell Court, that was saying something. Should he ever have the occasion to meet foreign nobility, he would wear this or similar clothing then, too.
He straightened his shoulders. Laced up his brown leather boots. Strapped his sword into its sheath.
And he marched into battle.
The grand dining hall was brimming with fairies in a way it never had been before. The fae Jason had brought a crowd of refugees rescued from a pet store yesterday afternoon. Queen Barbara had spent the rest of the evening assigning residents to new homes within her lands.
And now, it was time for their first shared meal together.
Queen Barbara sat at the head of the long table, of course, with Dick at her right hand and her father, Jim, at her left. The seat directly beside Dick was left open, of course, reserved for Damian himself. He nodded curtly at the new residents, bowed to his queen, and took his seat.
The other fairies were clustered around the far opposite end of the table. Peculiar. It was… overly deferential. Damian had frankly expected the new residents to be vying for seats of privilege, attempting to curry the queen’s favor as much as possible.
Instead, the opposite was happening. The new fairies seemed almost avoidant. As it they were… Afraid of Queen Barbara, somehow?
Preposterous.
Damian decided to be offended on his queen’s behalf.
He huffed to himself. Bowed his head and closed his eyes, thanking the plants that had given their lives for him to eat that morning. He finished his quick prayer and began to eat.
“Dick,” he said, unwilling to reveal any of his brother’s additional names, even merely the variants. “What shall we be doing today?”
It was a Saturday. Lady Helena’s pseudo-school would not be in session. Damian refused to refer to it as a proper school, and Lady Helena refused to call their lessons mere tutoring-- she was an educated fairy, to a degree where her lessons should carry suitable weight.
Damian respected that. He did. But a class of one student is not a school.
Lady Helena was a marquess in Queen Barbara’s court. The second highest noble rank. Technically, there were no duchesses, currently. King Dick had been a duke previously, before he became Barbara’s consort. Damian himself was a prince in name only. It was a courtesy title, to show honor and acclaim to the Wayne family line, in thanks for all that Father had done for the court.
Damian supposed more titles would be awarded, now, with a new influx of courtiers.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Damian. I’m gonna be in meetings all day,” Dick said.
He nodded. “Very well. Who all shall be included in these meetings?”
“Well,” he said. “Me, Babs, Bruce, Jim, and Jason.”
“And myself, of course.”
“Uh,” Dick said. Damian narrowed his eyes. “I think Bruce has a special task for you instead.”
“You mean to say he will invent a task for me,” he said. “I am not a pixie anymore, Dick. I am fourteen years old. I am the heir apparent of this court. I do not need to be given busy work to keep me out of sight and out of mind.”
“Damian,” Dick said. “It’s not like that.”
“It is!”
“If I may cut in,” Barbara said, voice cold and clear as ice. “I, personally, was hoping that you might act as an ambassador today, Damian. I would like you to be our new residents’ point of contact. To teach them our ways and manners and show them around the queendom. Is that something you are capable of? I could also my father to skip out on our meetings if you find liaison work to be beneath you.”
His face burned in shame. “I would be honored to fulfill any duty you ask of me, my queen.”
“Thank you,” she said, and returned her attention to her meal.
Damian did not slump in his seat. Such behavior would be unbecoming of a prince. He was also above such childish displays of petulance. “Pouting” was for pixies. Damian was not a pixie. He was fourteen.
And so he displayed no emotion whatsoever, and finished his meal roboticly.
Damian led the new fairies on a tour of the queendom, and he was mature about it and everything. He only snapped at them a few times-- when they deserved it for asking stupid questions.
Then he led his entourage into Wayne Manor proper. Alfred wanted to take everyone’s measurements to begin commissioning clothing for them all. Dr. Thompkins had been called, and brought her specialty fairy-sized equipment to give everyone wellness checkups.
It was tedious.
They went in reverse order of age-- the youngest going first with their dual appointments and then the oldest ones last. This was an accommodation for the lower boredom threshold that pixies had.
Maps immediately proved all the adults right by wanting to “play” as soon as her appointments were done.
“Come on,” she wheedled. “It’ll be fun!”
Alfred gave Damian a significant look. He repressed a sigh.
“Very well,” he said. “What game do you wish to play?”
“Flower sledding!” she said, leaping into the air and hovering there, glittering pixie dust seeming to shine brighter around her in her excitement.
“What is flower sledding?” Damian asked.
“It’s so great! You go up the court tree and pick a blossom and sit on it! Then someone else picks the blossom and shoves you off the tree! You glide all the way down to the ground, and whoever gets there last, wins, but using your wings is cheating.”
“The flower does not simply fall straight down?”
“No, of course not. It floats down, all gentle-like. Like Earth leaves in the wind.”
“How is that possible?”
Maps shrugged. “Magic? How does anything work with court trees?”
Alfred cleared his throat. “Perhaps a different game would be more suitable,” he said. “Master Damian is not inclined towards magic.”
“You don’t have magic?!” Duke asked, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry! Sorry. Uh… Sorry.”
“That’s fine!” Maps said. “We can play a different game! There’s always air ball. Wait! No wings. Uhhhh. Do you wanna play the name game?”
“What is the name game?” he asked. He was beginning to become irritated.
He had not known that there were pixie games played by fairy children, unique to their species. Their culture. No one had ever told him.
Why had they never told him?
“It’s the best! You take turns giving each other orders with your true names! Not your full true names, obviously. Just your first names. But! The winner is the person who can resist the orders the best. I’m great at it! Pomeline says I have incredible strength of will.”
Damian straightened. “I also have incredible strength of will,” he said. “Test me.”
Maps laughed. “Alright!” she said. “Damian, Damian, Damian. I know thy name, and I command ye. Touch your nose.”
He didn’t.
He didn’t feel any particular urge to do so, either. He frowned.
The other fairies’ attention was locked onto him by this point, growing steadily more intense as more time passed.
“You okay, bud?” Duke asked.
“I am fine,” he said. “I don’t feel anything.”
“You don’t?” Harper asked.
He shook his head. “Perhaps true names hold no power over me. I am half-human, after all.”
“You’re half-human?” Cullen asked. “How?”
Damian scowled at him, and Harper whacked him on the arm. “I am so sorry for my brother’s impertinence, Prince Damian. He did not mean to offend.”
Cullen paled the more she spoke.
“I shall endeavor to forget this encounter entirely,” Damian said, just a little bit mean. Okay. Maybe moderately mean. He turned his attention back to Maps. “What other games do fairy children play?”
Maps scratched the back of her neck. “Um,” she said. “Maybe we can try a human game? You know. So it’s accessible to you?”
Damian refrained from snarling at her, just barely. He kept his composure.
He turned on his heel and stalked away.