Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1 - PROLOGUE
August 9 XX15
18:43 EST
Wayne Manor, Gotham
Dick was concerned.
Which if asked, he was fairly often concerned about a multitude of things. Sometimes he wondered if the stress his worrying put him under would end up with him having more gray hair than Bruce even at his younger age. He couldn’t help it though-life with his family might as well be the definition of stressful.
That led to his current focus of concern; Damian.
Damian had been quiet all day, which while it wasn’t unusual for the teen, something about his silence felt different. It was also of note that it was his birthday, which for the past five years he’d slowly opened up to his then newly-acquired extended family. It was hard for Dick to believe he’d been in their lives for five years now, in that it both felt like time had flown by but hardly passed at all. A lot had happened as well, not just to Damian but the rest of the family. Perhaps today his youngest brother was just quiet in response to his own reflections on his time with them. But his silence felt different this time. It almost felt like it was heavy. Like it held something important.
No one wanted to bring it up during the day, which was filled with small but pleasant celebrations between Damian and a few of his siblings at a time. The now fifteen year-old teenager had allowed himself to be taken around the manor and city proper to celebrate in a few one-on-one settings, which the teen definitely preferred over any big party or extravagant event. Some were as small as sitting together with Jason in the library and reading together, while others were a bit more of an outing, such as Bruce taking Damian to a traveling art exhibit at The Gotham Museum of Antiques.
It was over dinner that night that someone finally approached the subject of Damian’s mood. Everyone close with the immediate family was in attendance, which was becoming a rarer affair as everyone's lives headed in different directions. Bruce was at the head of the table, with Damian to his left, Dick himself to his right. Next to Damian sat Jason, followed by Cass and Duke. Tim was beside Dick, and Steph and Babs followed him, having been invited specifically for the occasion. Not that it was necessarily rare for them to join in on “family dinners,” as they were often called.
Dick had been prepared to speak up about their youngest’s behavior after dinner when someone else beat him to it.
Tim cleared his throat; everyone who had been chatting in quiet conversations between one another stopped, and the room quickly fell silent.
“Damian,” He started, “You’ve been noticeably quiet all day. Or well, quieter than usual for you. It’s been worrying some of us.”
Tim met Dick’s eye, apparently having caught on to the eldest stressing. Dick held back a sigh; Tim only got better at reading him as time went on.
The silence that settled after Tim’s broaching of the subject felt weighted. Damian kept his eyes trained on the plate of food before him, still as a statue. For a moment, Dick feared Damian would ignore Tim completely. Despite how much the younger had improved with communication over the years, he still had times where he would shut them all out. Not that anyone would berate him for it; they all had their moments and their own personal challenges. Damian’s happened to be confronting emotions and personal relationships, just as Dick’s were his tendencies to overstep and overcompensate.
However, Damian then let out a long breath he’d been holding. Slowly, he set down the silverware he’d had in his hands on the table, and then folded his hands before him in his lap.
He remained like that for a moment, still quiet before he seemed to decide on something. He concealed his emotions well, but Dick did catch the quick flicker of apprehension his expression shifted to before he recovered. “I…Yes, I have been thinking over some things today that have preoccupied my mind for a while now.”
Damian somehow sat up straighter in his chair; the teen had already had good posture, so now he looked stiff. Uncomfortable.
“There is something that I’ve kept a secret from you all.” He started, his eyes downcast before he slowly raised his gaze. If Damian didn’t already have everyone’s full attention, he certainly had it now. He met Tim’s gaze first and held it for a moment before he turned towards Bruce. Dick saw again how his face shifted, this time showing a look of regret and sadness before it was replaced with one of determination.
“I feel it’s time I finally share it. I ask that I not be interrupted and that all questions are kept until I finish.”
Everyone nodded simultaneously, and there was a short shuffle of noise as utensils were put down and bodies resettled into chairs. Someone called for Alfred to come in as well, feeling it wouldn’t be right for the man to be excluded from what was certainly going to be something important. When it all fell silent again, Damian began.
“I had a twin. A sister.” He paused to take a deep breath before then exhaling it, “Her name was Dania.
“I do not remember very much from our youngest years, but even before training began I believe we were close. Once our third birthday passed, our training started. From what I recall, she was just as prolific as me in physical prowess and weapons handling. We were close, as well as we could be under such intense scrutiny.” Damian muttered, and his voice was bitter. “I fear that may have been the start of how things went downhill.
“In training we’d protect each other,” He continued, “We’d work together to take down our teachers, almost moving as extensions of each other. To some of our teachers this was viewed positively-we could cover the other’s blind spots and mistakes. However, to many others, it was seen as a weakness. We were too codependent; we relied on each other too much in that we didn’t improve on our own shortcomings. Some even said our growth would be hindered if we continued to work together.”
The teen hummed, the break it created clearly needed. Damian’s entire body seemed tense. “We had just turned five when our training was completely separated. We were still permitted to see one another, and we still shared a bedroom. But our time together was limited to mornings before our training was to begin, and after at night once our lessons had been completed.”
“Of course at night we were too tired to do much of anything other than talk, of which even that was again constricted with limitations.” Damian’s voice teetered on the verge of irritation. “We could not discuss our lessons, for one. Why exactly I could never truly understand.
“Instead, we would discuss our hidden passions. Dania had a love of the stars and the night sky, and would risk slipping out of her bed almost nightly to gaze upon them if the sky was clear.” His eyes looked past the scene around him, clear he was falling into memories. “I whispered about the sketches and images I dreamed of, about the illustrations in the books I was shown and how I wanted to be able to create my own one day. I’d use a finger to leave impressions in our bed sheets-crude drawings at best but we couldn’t risk leaving the dust so obviously disturbed. I don’t think either of our passions were discovered, thankfully. We would have been surely punished for such distracting thoughts.”
As he went on, it seemed that Damian’s carefully controlled expression started to loosen. His eyes had gone from being focused and detached to heavy and distant. His lips had turned downward in a frown. “Eventually, Grandfather grew tired of having two heirs; of having to divide his attention and double the training he’d originally planned for.”
Damian’s frown twisted into more of a grimace, “I do not know all of the details of our artificial incubation and birth, but Mother had mentioned offhandedly a few times that twice the resources had been unplanned for. She never said it was a burden, however, so perhaps she had been instrumental in both of our survival for so long. Surely it would have been easy for them to dispose of one of us very early on.
“All too soon, Grandfather was done with training us both. On the night before our sixth birthday, we were told we were to duel the following morning.”
Dick pointedly did not look around the table for anyone else’s reactions; his own he was sure had morphed into one of anger and resignation. He could unfortunately see where this was going.
“Not fight, not spar, but duel.” Damian continued, and his voice wavered dangerously. “It was unspoken, but we both knew it was to be to the death. Grandfather wanted to see who was truly deserving of his attention, of the resources he so graciously spent on an heir. And Mother had stood at his side, not saying a word, and I remember we were both too stunned to do anything other than nod. It was an order regardless. The following day we would have no choice but to follow it. I remember thinking that, at least, he’d given us one last night to be together.”
Dick watched as Damian’s focus drifted even further away. His eyes were heavy, and if he looked closely they almost appeared wet. “That night we tried to sleep in the same bed one last time, something we had not done since we were too young for training, and we’d clung to each other with more emotion than I think either of us had felt in a long time.”
“But then Mother came in and saw us.” As quickly as the dampness in his eyes appeared, it was gone. “She was beyond angry, and made us separate. We were too old for such behaviors, she’d hissed. That we shouldn’t have been allowed to get so attached.”
His voice softened, though it was laced with anger as he went on. “I remember it was a cold night. Mother had never looked so cold herself as she stood by the door for a minute, likely to be sure we didn’t try to sneak together again. Finally she left, and we stared at each other for a long time before either of us fell asleep. I think that was the only time I saw true fear in Dania’s eyes.”
He stopped for a moment, and his breathing was heavy. Dick could see Bruce physically restraining himself from reaching out, whether with words or a physical comfort. He reached out his own hand and rested it against the man’s arm; he knew as well as he did that the man could not interrupt, not now.
After he calmed his breath, Damian continued.
“When I woke, Dania was gone.” His voice was even softer, just barely above a whisper. It lacked the anger from before; it was instead replaced with sadness. “I was never told what truly happened. I was told just one thing for certain, and that was that Dania was dead. Mother recounted in the morning that she’d returned to our room after we’d both fallen asleep, to make sure we hadn’t disobeyed her, and found that she was slain. She believed a traitor to the league had done it-but Grandfather said she’d killed herself because she was too cowardly to face off against me.”
Damian practically growled out what he said next. “I don’t know what transpired, but I know that she’d never have done such a thing. Dania was not a coward.”
“I was told Mother had disposed of the body and every trace of her in the room before I even awoke.” Damian’s face now looked pained, and he started to hunch his shoulders as he stared resolutely at the table. “Perhaps if I’d tried to stay awake for longer…”
He trailed off, and a haunted expression drifted over him. It was gone quickly as the teen shuddered.
“After that, I was forbidden from speaking of her. No one breathed a word of her-it was like she’d never existed.” His voice caught at the end, but no one dared to bring attention to it. He pushed on, “Grandfather even said it was a good lesson in forming attachments; that even family needed to be kept at an arm’s length.”
Damian’s voice finally broke, and his expression turned angry. “For fuck’s sake, we were six .”
Silence blanketed the room once again. Even after it became clear their youngest was done speaking, no one dared to make a sound. It felt both heavy and delicate, so overpowering and yet so easily ready to shatter. Dick was trying and failing to put his thoughts and emotions into coherent expression; he was angry, he was horrified, he hurt and he wanted to hurt those who had caused his little brother so much pain.
A quick glance around the table showed he was not alone in such a whirlwind. Tim, who’d been the one to broach the conversation, looked haunted and more exhausted than he’d ever appeared. He’d only gotten a glance at the other’s dark circles before Tim had put his head in his hands, his elbows propped up on the table.
Steph was drawn inwards on herself, her face pale and eyes wide. Cass was much the same, though if Dick looked closely he could almost see her shoulders shake-whether they shook from anger or grief, he couldn’t tell. Babs’ expression was dark, and her hands were balled into tight fists where they rested on the table. Jason was in a similar state, with his eyes glowing with intensity and barely concealed rage. Dick wasn’t surprised to see them ringed in green; he'd have been more shocked if they weren’t. Duke seemed to match what Dick’s own face felt like-a warring between anger and sadness, and his shoulders were slumped as if under enormous weight.
Practically everyone looked as if the knowledge they’d just heard was actively pressing down on them. Alfred probably hid it the best out of everyone, though his eyes portrayed his true feelings with how stormy and distant they looked.
As for Bruce…
The man looked devastated, with such open body language and unguarded eyes-it almost startled Dick out of his own swirling mind, unused to his father figure showing such uncontrolled emotion. Sure he showed moments of joy and pride that he held for and with all of them, and none were strangers to his looks of disapproval or slight irritation-but Dick personally had learned over the years that Bruce preferred to keep most of his sadness and despair inside and out of sight. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud of the display or immensely concerned.
He’d have to worry about it later, because all too soon he watched the carefully crafted mask slip back on, and Bruce’s face shifted into one of comfort and support. Dick found himself trying to mimic the action as he became more aware of how the silence was going on too long. Damian had curled in completely on himself, almost like he was attempting to disappear into the chair. His eyes however seemed distant-he stared down at the unfinished meal before him with a lack of focus. Dick wondered how much of him was truly there in the moment with them and how much of his youngest brother was stuck in memories.
The blanket of silence was finally broken by a deep, but carefully exhaled sigh from Bruce, and all eyes immediately snapped to his position at the head of the dining table-all except Damian’s, who remained with his face not pointed at anyone. Dick was at least relieved to see some awareness returning to his eyes-they were still clouded, but at least seemed to be slowly coming back into focus.
“Damian.”
Finally, the teen’s gaze lifted up from the table.
“Thank you, for telling us.” Bruce spoke softly, tone carefully controlled. He had his hands clasped in front of him on the table, his plate shifted forward. Dick wished he could read past the constructed expression he wore.
“...you’re welcome, Father.” Damian’s voice was quiet, and borderline fragile. No one dared bring attention to it. “It…I apologize it has taken me this long-”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Dick interrupted, hurried. He lowered his voice as he continued, “Not for this, Damian.”
A hushed murmur of agreements quickly followed from around the table. Their youngest seemed to sit up a bit more after that, and Dick allowed himself a small smile at the action. He recognized it as one of hidden relief, one Dick had learned only after years of Damian’s time in the manor.
He wondered what he may have learned about Dania, if they'd gotten the chance.
Slowly, the heaviness of the room began to lift. Around the table, everyone’s expressions shifted as the information they learned settled. There was still a lingering feeling of anger, of shock-but the overall mood improved. Dick glanced between his friend’s and family’s faces quickly before he focused back on Damian. The teen was sitting forward, and his shoulders had relaxed.
“I-” Damian started, and the table’s attention refocused on him, “I want to talk about her, to remember her. More often.”
“Of course,” Alfred responded easily. “I think that is a splendid idea.”
“We’d be happy to hear more about her, as long as you’re okay with sharing.” Duke added, and Cass nodded next to him, her eyes gentle.
“Thank you.” He said with a uncharacteristic smile - it was a small thing, barely there, but the sight of it practically brightened the room itself. Dick smiled as well, and sat back in his chair as conversation picked up again, some filled with quiet questions directed towards Damian, while others directed topics elsewhere. He slid a glance over to Bruce, and found the man with a contemplative look on his face. Once he caught Dick’s eye it shifted, and the man relaxed back into his chair.
Dick kept his smile up. He knew that look, knew the implications if held, but for now, he let it go. He was sure he’d be kept in the loop for whatever information Bruce was going to dig for and find. Tim, too, if the way his brother was practically forcing himself to keep his hands busy and away from a phone or tablet was anything to go by.
Still, he let himself not worry about it. Not right now, not when Damian was actually smiling and talking and sharing this part of his history, of himself.
He’d have plenty of time to worry about it, about what they might find, later .
Right now, he was content to listen to his younger brother talk about a girl they’d never meet but some who was able to still make his face light up with happiness and youth.
Later would come soon enough.