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baticorngirl · 2 years

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Someday My Knight Will Come

Rating: General Audiences Fandom: Batman/DC Relationships: Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne, Characters: Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne (Heavily Mentioned) Word Count: 3,509 Summary:

“I’ve always wondered who my father is,” Damian blurted out. For a moment, she winced at the words. Her frown quickly deepened in even stronger thought— a quiet, wistful yearning, to be specific. Her eyes widened, instantly smoothing the small creases in their corners. She could feel her lungs pause in their tracks, yet this only lasted a second or two at most before her expression abruptly swapped. A smile, tinted only by a bittersweet glance to the ground, faded in. “Well, that’s a story in itself,” she remarked, “a beautiful story. One that I would’ve hated for you not to hear, Love." OR: Damian, a three year old prince, has simply gotten too bored of all the stories his mother's been reading to him. Therefore, instead, Talia tells him a much more close-to-the-heart tale, of the noble knight she once wooed and the loved escaped her heart— also known as Damian's own father. (For @brutalia-week, Day 3: Royalty AU)

Click here to read on Ao3 instead (which has an A/N, but it's optional) Click here to read Day 2 Click here to read Day 1

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Talia stood, on a magnificently large balcony, with her silk gown softly brushed over all the floor around her; her feet themselves were close to the farthest spot of railing, letting just the tiniest bit of white fabric get blown right over it by a gentle wind. Her hands clutched the very top of the rail, leaning her weight on it slightly as she stared into the distant views. Rigid mountain rocks bejeweled their entire kingdom, piercing the area between each peasant's house. No remotely flat space wasn't occupied by a building. But she did not look to those dotted little buildings, rather much beyond them; her eyes gazed at the wide array of vivid colors filling the sky above, yet even more than that, she looked at the bright greenscapes below the rocks. Speckled grass appeared as abstract ground paintings, the tops of trees like small green clouds.

"Mama?" The voice was high-pitched, childlike.

Damian stood behind her, just a couple feet away, with his own sight reaching no more than her wide skirt. He saw the fabric clumping on the ground, and it gave him the overwhelming urge to grab it, to press the smooth material around in his hands gleefully. He leaned forward slightly, considering it, but then jolted his head off to the side in sudden restraints. Instead, he simply traced his feet around the outskirts of that dress, until he was directly in his mother's view, and her face in his own. A wide grin pressed at the corners of his cheeks, much more expressive than Talia's distracted, distant look.

Once she noticed the small child, though, her eyes lit up in a similar joy.

"Oh," she said, soft yet joyful. "It'll be time for your bedtime soon, won't it?"

"Hold on,"

He had put a finger up in front of himself, and in that slight moment, his grin quickly disappeared. The movement puzzled Talia, making her eyebrows furrow up a bit, but both expressions did not last long. His voice, now even squeakier than before, filled the room once again.

"My bedtime isn't until 8, so I still have plenty of time," he corrected, and then his grin came back even stronger, creasing his chubby cheeks. "Time for you to tell me more stories! I want ten of them, at least."

Talia could feel her own smile, though still much softer than his, get a tint larger. She spun around to face him directly, with her large gown sweeping the floors even more. A piece lightly thwacked the rail's lower poles. Golden gleams of sunlight spattered across her face until it could only reach around three-fourths of it, but where those streams failed, the reflected indoor fluorescents quickly took over. She reached out her hand, letting it get a taste of the sunlight as well, and lowered it down to Damian. Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed it. His fingers squeezed the soft skin of her palm.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to come up with ten stories for you," she admitted as they slowly walked back inside, still holding hands. Her head tilted in thought. "Ones you haven't just heard recently, at least."

"That's okay," Damian shrugged. "But if you can't come up with enough, I expect to be able to get to play a little more in return."

"I'm not sure about that," Her eyebrows furrowed again. "Don't you think a little more sleep might be good for you, Love? You really haven't been getting enough, no matter how early I make your bedtime, with how ungodly early you wake up some of these days. Besides, won't you be too sleepy to play after your stories?"

"Of course not," He shook his head, letting the smile collapse into a disappointed pout. "I'm not that weak, Mama. I don't run out of all my energy through just storytime."

"Oh yes, of course, Dami. I forgot that you never, ever run out of energy. At all."

A soft, light-hearted laugh came out with her words, and she squeezed Damian's small hand affectionately. The two meandered off to his room, going the rest of the way without so much as another word, yet their eyes communicated loving emotions to one another through each and every thumping footstep. Damian's pout dropped part-way, with his young mind easily distracted, and he jumped right back into the previous joys. They weren't too far from his room at this point, his eyes having dramatically lit up the moment he noticed his brown wood door from the far side of the corridor. A metal piece was nailed onto the front of it, with his name carved into the object in an elegant cursive font.

Once they'd arrived and swung open that door, Talia led him over to the small bookshelf of stories, made with a matching wood. The two instantly sorted through the books atop and, aside from the ones read yesterday or the day before, they grabbed almost every single one. Now, the books sat in a small pile at the end of his bed. Talia picked up the first and creaked its bind open, placing her eyes on the very first word of the first page.

Damian swiftly interrupted her, "I wanted to read the stories out on the balcony, where there's those pretty pinks in the sky before bedtime." His pout had returned.

"There's a word you're missing there," Talia commented.

Damian rolled his eyes sarcastically, but eventually sighed. "Can we please read them on the balcony? Pretty please with a cherry on top?" His eyes sparkled in such a hopeful, endearing way that Talia couldn't help but nod.

"Fine," she gave in. "But you have to carry the books."

And so, Talia plopped the stack right in Damian's stubby arms. Yet, seeing as she had no hand to protectively squeeze anymore, she then swiftly wrapped her arms around him and picked the entire boy up. She tucked her hands beneath his bottom and knees soundly. Aside from the ethical lessons, it completely eliminated the point of having Damian carry the books, but being a princess of knight-like training, the load strained her muscles very little. For this reason, she didn't truly mind; seeing as he was only a few years old, he didn't weigh much at all.

She carried Damian all the way, this time walking a bit faster than on their last trip. Damian watched the walls, made of dark blueish-grey stone, whiz by behind him. His head leaned on Talia's shoulder the entire time, letting the golden trim of his neckline rub against her upper chest. The stack of books barely stayed together in this position, and many of their colorful binds visibly stuck out the opposite way.

The moment they ducked under the doorway and took their first steps on to the balcony floors, Talia was quick to put Damian down onto the lushly cushioned bench. It sat in the right corner, pushed up against one of the castle's exterior walls. Just like the doors and bookshelf, it was made out of dark brown wood, yet in this case, that material was almost entirely covered by soft blue velvets.

"Give me one of the books," she instructed. "Whichever one you'd like to start with."

Hmmm. Damian climbed over to the other seat, which he'd rested the pile of books on. His eyes peered downward at them, and his hands grasped each one tightly as he sorted through the stories. A few had small pictures painted or drawn on their covers, but for the most part, all of their outer edges were simply one flat color wrapped around. He'd already memorized all of their coordinated colors at least a year ago, though, with how much she'd whisper them in his ear as he snuggled up under the covers. Hence, he had no trouble differienting.

In the end, he had two piles; one had ones he wanted her to read, and the other had ones he'd gotten much too bored of. The former consisted of merely a couple.

"I'm bored of most of these," he whined.

"We can visit the village bookshop in a few days to search for new ones if you'd like," she suggested, but the offer was paired with a loud sigh. "For now, why don't you just go play for longer, and then we can read only one of them a bit closer to bedtime, alright?"

"No," he said, and so proudly, too, as if it was the best word in existence. Fairly average toddler behavior, Talia knew, as exasperating as it was.

But this word was followed by no actions on his part; he didn't move a muscle, nor did he speak another word. The two sat in still silence, occasionally interrupted by a quiet gush of wind if nothing else, or the muffled sound of inside conversations. Talia's nose was scrunched up in mild confusion, and her arms crossed over chest as she attempted to sort out what Damian was thinking. For at least ten seconds, this stayed.

"Why don't you tell me a made-up story?" Damian suggested, still holding his pout on just as strongly. "Or one from your own experience? You never seem to do that anymore."

"Perhaps," she agreed, "I can come up with something."

To her delight, Damian's pout lessened severely. Only a couple seconds after her answer, his pout was completely gone, and instead replaced with another cheerful grin stretching from ear to ear. During those seconds, and several ones after, Talia pondered what kind of story to tell; she bit her lip, letting any hint of a smile droop into a small, thoughtful, side-ways frown. Her arms stayed crossed, and tightened slightly if anything.

"I've always wondered who my father is," Damian blurted out.

For a moment, she winced at the words. Her frown quickly deepened in even stronger thought— a quiet, wistful yearning, to be specific. Her eyes widened, instantly smoothing the small creases in their corners. She could feel her lungs pause in their tracks, yet this only lasted a second or two at most before her expression abruptly swapped. A smile, tinted only by a bittersweet glance to the ground, faded in.

"Well, that's a story in itself," she remarked, "a beautiful story. One that I would've hated for you not to hear, Love."

Damian giggled sweetly as she sat down beside him, nudging the books out of her way. He bounced up and down in his seat excitedly, with his princely uniform crinkling against the backrest behind him. Seeing this, Talia petted his head downward, ruffling his hair into a quite unsophiscated mess in the process. This action only made the child squeal and jump even more, to Talia's dismay. She wrapped an arm around his back to hold him there, which yet again, did very little to calm him. A sigh escaped her lips.

"Your father was a…" Talia paused for a moment, and then shook her head. "No no, I shall start this properly."

Damian nodded, fast and swift, urging her to get started either way.

"Once upon a time, not-so-long ago, in this very kingdom," she began, "there lived a young princess, just barely into adulthood. She had jewels, treasure, and wealth beyond many people's comprehension due to her royal heritage, but despite the luxurious life she lived, she was indescribably lonely."

"Was that you?"

Damian was staring at the many fancy jewels, so similar to what she described, sprinkled across her wrists and neck through lavish bracelets and necklaces. His eyes were wide and eyebrows pulled backwards, resting in delighted awe. In return, she petted his head affectionately again, and snuggled closer. Her mouth was already in close distance to his ear, so with her next sentence, she stuck her lips right next to it. Talia's mouth barely opened at all as she whispered the words.

"...yes," she admitted. "But don't interrupt the story."

Damian nodded obediently.

"As I was saying, the princess was lonely. She loved her family, truly, but the only person she hardly ever spent time with was her father. She was not an only child, technically, but both her siblings had already moved far enough away from the kingdom that she'd never even met them."

"I have aunts?" Damian asked, still wide-eyed.

"One aunt and one uncle," she answered, but then frowned. "You're not supposed to interrupt me, though."

"Right," he nodded again, and then closed his mouth– for the moment, at least.

Talia went on, "The people of the kingdom –or our kingdom, truly– were kind to her, but she knew most only did so due to obligations, and a fear of the powerful, merciless king that her father constantly proved himself to be. She never had a friend, not to mention any kind of husband or lover. Until one day, after getting kidnapped by an uncultivated bandit, she met a brilliant, noble young man."

Damian not only bounced as she said these words, but hopped completely out of his seat. He stood in front of her, still shorter than her even in this stance. As he skipped over, he placed his hands on her lap and leaned into his mother's face. Their eyes locked together, his wide and lit up in excitement while hers took over the same loose, exhausted wistfulness as earlier.

"Was that my father?" Damian clarified.

"Yes," Talia said, and that was it; she'd already fully given up on asking him to keep quiet.

Damian was pleased by this response, smirking at his own deduction skills as he nodded again. He shuffled back over to his seat and scooted onto it, pulling his legs up and hugging them to his chest. His entire body leaned on the side of Talia's torso, but her hands stayed in her lap; there was no point in hugging him, she found, if he was going to pop up again just as quickly.

Talia loudly cleared her throat before continuing. "This man had also gotten kidnapped by the bandit, she soon learned. It wasn't a particularly strong bandit, but it was certainly a surprisingly smart and courageous one. Nonetheless, they worked together to escape, and in the process, began to fall in love with each other— especially the princess who, as already stated, was lonely and thereby eager to get to know this mysterious new acquaintance further. She quickly learned he was a knight for another kingdom."

"Ooooh," he peeped excitedly. "A knight in shining armor?"

Suddenly, in a turn of events, it was her that popped up from her seat. She ambled off towards the railing, nearing where she stood earlier that evening, and rested her hands on the rails once again. Her eyes stared off into those distant greenscapes; the yearning inside was quickly increasing. Talia's eyelids drew over the eyes until all she was looking at was a seemingly small area of green, though much larger in reality, if she was ever to set forth there again.

"Damian, I'd… I'd like to say that your father was a knight in shining armor," she replied. "But frankly, I'd be lying. His armor was anything but shining. It was dull, dusty, and dark in color, like it hadn't been polished in much too long."

In bright curiosity, Damian now rose from his seat for the second time; he ran over and situated himself right next to his mother, or slightly in front of her to be fully in her vision. Then, quite rudely, he stuck his tongue out at the prospect of such matte steel. His nose scrunched up until it resembled a shriveled prune, displaying his disgust widely for her to see. Unsurprisingly, she side-eyed him scoldingly.

"It may have been a bit dirty, but in its own way, the darkness was beautiful, like a stunning midnight sky. It was his. It was unique."

She smiled bittersweetly again, and glanced upwards. The pinks in the sky had already begun to darken as sunset came to a close, replaced with the splendor of a deep shade of purple-ish blue. A few bright white stars began to peek out, as well. The stars reminded her of the dark knight's skin, always so bothersomely pale— or perhaps even the color of her dress, always spilling onto his armor whenever they'd embrace.

"The knight and princess exchanged addresses," she eventually went on, "so they could mail letters to each other, which they did, often. To her, it was an escape from the kingdom, and to him, it was an escape from himself and his grief— he'd lost his parents as a young child, and the pain of it still hurt even then. It hurts him to this day, I reckon."

"He's still alive?" Damian looked out into the distance with his mother. "Still out there?"

"Yes," Talia nodded. "But if you'll excuse me, I need to continue chronologically. Eventually, they decided that they were sick of bland letters, and decided to meet up. It went so well that it ended with a warm, gentle kiss, and so, they met up again, and again. Each time, these meetings became more and more regular and frequent."

She thought of these meetings nostalgically; she thought of the smiles she gave him every single time, and she thought of the smiles he'd give no one but her; she thought of the evening shadows cast upon her beloved's face, contrasted only by the bright blues eyes he let only her see; she thought of the moments they held, locked securely in each other's loving arms. Her smile had grown.

"Then why doesn't he still visit?" he asked.

Now, Damian wrapped his arms around himself protectively, sadly, insecurely; his hands rubbed himself up and down, as if shivering from the cold, but even the gentlest of breezes had ceased a few minutes prior. His eyes glanced towards the ground hopelessly, before completely shutting. Talia turned towards him, her eyes softening in concern. She gently put a hand behind his neck and nudged him closer to her.

"Well…" she explained. "Let's just say that through those visits, I learned a lot about him. I learned his full name, his age, how old he was when he got knighted, and so much more… Somehow, I even ended up learning of his soft, almost endearing snore— Only when he felt completely safe, did he let it out. But, near me, it seemed he felt so safe that I was able to memorize it."

"Get to the point," Damian urged.

"Yes, yes, of course," Talia agreed. "I learned a lot about him, but what I didn't realize was that the king he worked for was one my father absolutely despised. When your grandfather learned we were seeing each other, a fight broke out. It… did not end well."

The second she finished speaking, she cocked her head to the side. Damian was still standing there sadly, but now, it had painfully escalated into tears; sobs cascaded through the poor child's lungs, and his entire body was visibly trembling. Talia's mouth dropped open upon noticing this. She swiftly reached down and scooped him off the ground, now holding him tightly against her. As another sob fumbled out, she pressed her lips to the top of his head in a loving kiss.

"I learned I was pregnant with his child a month later, and I tried to contact him, but…" she sighed. "I'm sorry, Damian. I'm sure he would've loved to know you."

"Will I ever get to meet him?"

His voice was quiet and shaky as he stared up at her with teary eyes. Yet, only a moment later, as the moon rose higher in the sky, he let out a large yawn. His eyes fluttered partly closed, struggling to keep open with the heavy weight of sleepiness. His breaths were still fast, but beginning to calm down the more the sleepiness took over. Ignoring this, Talia shifted his weight to only one of her arms and picked the other one up. She pointed off, far into their view, right to that green-speckled kingdom.

"There," she said proudly, "is where he lives."

He looked out there, squinting, but it only took a couple seconds for his eyelids to quickly overcome his vision once again. His breathing was much calmer now, and the loud sobs had ceased, even if a few tears still rolled down his delicate cheeks. His head leaned its full weight on Talia now, and the muscles relaxed. Damian continued fighting sleepiness, but as he drifted in and out of consciousness, he was quite near accepting defeat.

"You'll… you'll meet him someday, Damian," Talia answered. "I promise."

With that, he fully passed out. As he did so, a small noise could be heard from inside his nostrils. It was a soft, almost endearing little snore. The sound was hardly audible, truly, but upon hearing it, Talia felt a tear escape from her eye and roll down her own cheek.

It was a soft, endearing, but also undeniably familiar little snore.

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baticorngirl · 2 years

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An Ember of Uncertainty

Rating: K+/PG Fandom: Batman/DC (specifically Batman: Son of the Demon) Relationship(s): Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne Characters: Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne Word count: 3,778 Summary:

“I heard you two talking,” she began nervously. Her eyes went back to their partly-closed position, avoiding eye contact yet again. “Last afternoon. My father and you, at the end of the attack yesterday. About the future attacks of Qayin, about some… ambush my father wanted you to lead on him.” “Yes, that… happened,” Bruce slowly acknowledged. OR: As based on Batman: Son of the Demon, Talia is worried about Bruce's constant over-protectiveness of her and their unborn child. But this time, before she does anything drastic, she first decides to tell her Beloved that they need to talk. So, for better or worse, they talk. (For @brutalia-week, Day 2: Canon Divergence AU)

Author's Note:

This is meant to take place in Batman: Son of the Demon just a little bit before the scene where, in canon, Talia fakes the miscarriage. As I have plenty of other fics taking place in an AU where Son of the Demon works out, this is likely a bit of a prequel to them. (None of them are super connected though.)

Click here to read on Ao3 instead (which also includes a much more detailed A/N, if you happened to be interested)

Click here to read my BruTalia Week: Day 1 fic

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"Beloved,"

Her voice was careful, soft, slow; it cracked half-way through just the one word, then quieted so much that the second half was hardly audible. Her eyes weren't even open, having done no more than sensed him arriving from the other side of the room. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth once she'd finished speaking, methodically dabbing it along the saliva-coated inner lining. But other than that, she was still in every regard; her arms rested loosely on her lap, with the muscle completely relaxed, and her chin was nearly laid down on her upper neck.

"Talia?"

Bruce took several steps towards her, passing under the bright gold doorway trim. The chandelier was strung low, casting direct shadows onto the left side of his face from such small features as his nose and the curves of his eyebrows. It cast those same shadows on to the right side of Talia's own, as well. The light was so dim it couldn't even remotely reach the farther corners of the relatively small room; in those areas, the dull blue wall color appeared as navy, or perhaps even black.

"Come in," she whispered, finally beginning to open her eyes, though only partly. "Come over here." Her hand lifted, nonchalantly pointing to the chair across from her.

A small table, not more than two feet long, cut in between the two chairs, of which an even dimmer light than the small chandelier sat. It was simply a candle, flickering and dwindling like the rolls of ocean waves. Nonetheless, it scattered its luminosity all across the wood surface, with some light even spilling onto the floor below, as well as the wall, which the table was only a few inches from being pushed up again.

He walked over there, his footsteps piercing the current silence every second or two. It didn't take long for him to get there, though, and once he did so, he quickly drew the chair out from the table, only for that to create a much larger skidding sound. Bruce lowered himself on to the seat, feeling the bumpy bars of the back of the chair rub against his back.

"You said you wanted to talk?" he said, looking straight into Talia's eyes. The glare on them was bright and glossy; the candle itself showed a vague resemblance to the center of the reflections. The sight made him blink. "It's… clearly very important, considering just how alone and formal you requested it to be. Is… Is something wrong, Talia?"

"Yes," she answered, clear and definite in one single word.

"It is?" Bruce's eyes widened. "What's the problem? Everything's been so good around here, with our marriage, your father's allyship with me, and your…. Our…" Then, he leaned forward, struck with a heavy thought. "Oh no… it doesn't have anything to do with your pregnancy, does it? With our future child? Please don't tell me something's gone wrong with that… That you had a miscarr–"

"No," Talia lightly shook her head. "The baby is alright, for now."

"For now?"

He stopped breathing, for a moment, before she answered. One of his hands grabbed the wrist of his other one, clenching it in sudden fear. His nails dug in so much it began to string, but in that split second, his arm was as good as numb; he neglected to even notice the pains biting into the tender skin.

"I… I don't mean it like that, Beloved," she reassured, circling her head backwards, towards the wall which candlelight was still flashing on. "Not really, at least."

These words were instantly met with a rushing sigh of relief from Bruce's end. He blew out the air, making a loud whooshing sound in the process, which pushed at the candle in a way that almost pulverized it; the fire atop shortened to nothing more than a large ember. Only a moment later, though, it pushed back up, now just a bit smaller of a flame than it was before. Talia, as close as she was, saw all of these abrupt changes through nothing more than the lessening radiance of the nearby wall.

"Then what do you mean?" Bruce asked anxiously. His eyes were still big in diameter, with his previous relief starting to dilute with each and every second she refrained from elaborating.

"As I already said, nothing," Her head, already so odd and twisted in position, tilted ever so slightly towards the wall. "Just ludicrous, improbable fears, I suppose. That's all."

"Mnn?"

The noise was quiet and surprisingly high-pitched, with the person it was coming from in consideration. It was unsure, questioning; too unsure to even speak true comprehensible words, it seemed. It was simply a small speck of sound, peeping out like a little slice into the airspace surrounding. It was expressive, though, and loud enough that Talia could hear it clearly. She processed it, and the body language alongside it, like any other question.

She sighed, "It's not even really about the baby. A loose extension to my real, unrelated concern, at most. That's not why I brought you here." With her eyes trailing the wall downwards, she considered this thought and eventually nodded to it. "In fact, a desire for us to be keeping the unborn child in our minds more could be considered the exact opposite of why I called for this discussion. Not that I wish the child to be loved and cared about any less, I just…"

"What?"

Talia's eyes finally opened fully. They changed their direction, as well; although her head was still significantly titled the opposite way, her eyes themselves ultimately met with Bruce's. She kept this eye contact still and silent for a good few seconds, pausing before she answered this question. In these seconds, she bit her tongue— hard, pressing down like a cruel bear trap that her tongue had fallen into.

"I shouldn't start here," she said. "I really shouldn't start here."

"Then don't," Bruce replied calmly, but his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "What's going on here, Talia? Explain it however you like, but still explain it."

"I–"

She bit her tongue even harder now, so much that she swore she could taste just the tiniest fleck of blood dripping off the area her teeth clasped. Somewhere in the realms of her neck and jaw, a cramp surged in, forcing her mouth to completely freeze for an eerie amount of time. Bruce stayed silent throughout it, but his eyes widened and constricted with great concern. Even when she eventually spoke, the back of Talia's jaw was still sore from the cessation.

"I heard you two talking," she began nervously. Her eyes went back to their partly-closed position, avoiding eye contact yet again. "Last afternoon. My father and you, at the end of the attack yesterday. About the future attacks of Qayin, about some… ambush my father wanted you to lead on him."

"Yes, that… happened," Bruce slowly acknowledged.

His posture jumped upwards, suddenly perfectly straight from the startle. Yet, in a starkly different behavior, his head itself drooped down the second she finished speaking. It hung low with a similar nervousness to her own; not as extreme, but visibly present nonetheless. The chandelier now gave no light to almost the entirety of his face, with the only thing keeping it from turning into a blanket of shadows being the soft candlelight below, which still made little difference.

He stared at Talia blankly for nearly half a minute.

"Are you going to say anything about it?" she inevitably asked. "You can't sincerely expect me to have no reaction to that. You…you can't just say no to him. To Ra's al Ghul, of all people, at least if you have any intent of not becoming bitter enemies, and that's not even beginning to address the–"

"I know," Bruce nodded, "but it's the only way."

"The only way for what?" Talia could feel her voice quickly rising. "You used my condition as an excuse for it, for your foolishness."

"I'm trying to protect you," he defended. "This is a very high-stress, dangerous situation, and you're pregnant! You can't be in the middle of all this while there's a fragile, tiny baby growing inside of you!"

Talia's eyes were wide open now, quite different to their past half-closing position, but even more than that, her quiet stillness had completely vanished with this new-found anger. Underneath the table, she clenched her fists as tightly as they could, leaving dark imprints on the places that got most heavily pushed. Any nervousness was gone in a matter of a minute.

"This is also the kind of high-stress, dangerous situation that we need to have our priorities straight on. That we must be working on solving constantly," she explained, "lest be a fool, and in these situations, a fool is not something any one of us can afford to be, can we?"

"Yes, but I do have my priorities straight," Bruce argued, "and those priorities are you and the unborn child. Is that so wrong? To not want an innocent baby to be deprived of life, or an innocent woman have to experience the both emotional and physical pain of miscarriage? I only love you and want the best, Talia. So we must get you to safety."

"Not when we're in the middle of stopping nuclear war," she disagreed.

"But—" he stuttered. "The baby. And you."

Bruce felt the same anger as Talia, or if anything, an even stronger kind of rage. Every protective instinct in his body felt as if it went off at the same time, leaving all his muscles tense, and his arm, tightly grabbed again, feeling just as much stinging sensations as earlier. A sudden flush of heat took over his entire face, making it just the slightest bit more red than usual.

"—Will be killed in the nuclear war just as much as anyone else." Talia pointed out.

"It's not like I'm going to leave that unattended forever, Talia." Bruce stated. His lungs spiraled into a chaotic formation of breath-taking, up and down faster by the second. "I'm perfectly willing to go back to assisting you father and defeating Qayin, just the same as before, as soon as you're in a safer place."

"Considering the League of Assassins's many threats, who knows how long that could take? We'd need to find the perfect place, and then get me to it, and we already have much too little time to stop Qayin's plans. Even then, I don't necessarily even need to stop—"

Bruce quickly cut her off, "No. I understand you've gotten into the habit of always being a warrior and assassin, but if nothing else, you're going to be off the battlefield, period."

"If you stop doing any of the rest of this mess, I'm more than fine with agreeing to that."

His neck had gone back to having perfect posture, but his eyes, on the other hand, now darted towards the ground in deep thought. His head vacillated from side to side, but it was nothing compared to the extreme vacillating going on inside. WIth every new thought, his tongue solidly thumped against the skin behind his lips. Talia, still frowning in frustration, barely held back a flinch every time the distinct, surprisingly loud sound occurred.

"What counts as 'the rest of this mess'?" he asked curiously.

"Everything else that you're doing because of my pregnancy only." Talia answered. She'd gone back to staring at the wall, but as she spoke, she side-eyed him for a split second. "Most of it, at least. The ridiculous overprotectiveness, the prioritizing my healthcare over the people who are seriously injur–"

"Oh, I can't seriously be expected to do that, Talia," Bruce mildly shook his head. "Pregnancy isn't something you can just ignore! You need to act accordingly in almost every decision, and take all the precautions necessary to prevent complications to keep everyone involved as safe and happy as possible." Now, he changed actions, nodding to his own words instead of shaking his head to hers.

Talia didn't even begin to respond, but rather, quietly huffed at him.

"The happiest baby in the world," Bruce stately proudly, completely ignoring the reaction. "How can that be the case if they aren't even born?"

"But the poor soldiers who I'm getting arbitrarily prioritized over aren't happy," Talia pointed out. "Neither are the doctors you keep bossing around, or my father, or probably any of our assassins, or the people whose lives would most directly be endangered if the nuclear war were to start, or…"

Each breath of hers, unlike his, weren't very fast or loud anymore— Quite the opposite, even. If anything, they were significantly slower and less frequent than normal. While in a large pause in her speech, Talia wrapped her arms herself loosely; in a soothing motion, her fingers rubbed, massaged, and pushed over the muscles, just starting to get out some of the knots all this clenching had brought about. Every rub brought her eyes closer to how they'd been originally: closed, loose, and overwhelmingly tired.

"Or… Well frankly, I am not happy," she admitted. "Are you even happy anymore?"

Bruce's eyes drifted to the side, clearly still thinking it over, but he quickly nodded even during those actions. "Of course I'm happy. Why won't I be happy? I'm happier than I've ever been in my entire life, as I already told you. Everything finally feels right again, with you… and… and the baby we'll soon have, and…"

"Are you, though?" Talia asked, raising an eyebrow subtly. Her eyes had opened some, but not much. "Lately, you've been worrying about whether or not I'm safe constantly. Is that considered happiness, to you?"

"My protection of you is necessary," Bruce stated dryly.

His posture completely let go the second he'd hear Talia's words. Instead, he dramatically slouched over. Similar to the situation with his hanging head, very few parts of the entire front of his body were hit with light. The candle continued lighting his eyes, though, and as he leaned forward, it gave them a misty, glowy blue aura; these blue orbs dashed around their white background, antsy and clearly avoiding the true question at hand.

"I disagree," Talia replied, with her chin stuck stubbornly.

Then, with them stubborn in every definition of the word, both mouths were tightly shut. The silence was only interrupted with tongue-to-lip clicking, an action which Bruce had swiftly taken back up out of mere boredom. It bothered Talia the same as before, but her silence continued regardless; the only reaction she had to it was a slightly unpleasant kind of expression.

"Talia, I don't want to make you upset or… feel like I'm disregarding your feelings about this whole thing." Bruce eventually told her. "There's just only so much I can do."

"But you won't listen," she complained. "You're completely capable of compromising with me on a solution, but you simply won't, will you? Because of course, we can't do that unless you take the time to, again, listen."

"Your compromise before wasn't reasonable," he argued. "Otherwise I might have listened to it."

"Fine then, if you don't want to, you don't even have to listen. But you do have to compromise in some way." Talia suggested, sighing loudly. "Why not just talk to me, won't you? Stop being so insufferably stubborn and actually converse? Just answer my question from before: if you're so happy, why are you constantly worrying that I'm going to die, instead of….being happy?" Her voice was rising at a terribly fast rate, and the tone alongside was snarky at nicest.

Bruce managed to somehow slouch even further downwards now, still so determined to avoid the question. But he didn't spout out excuses this time, or for the first few seconds, open his mouth at all. He thought about his answer, narrowing his eyes intensely. Yet suddenly, half way through these thoughts, his posture lifted, as did his intensely narrowed eyes. The entirety of his expression quickly softened.

"Because I'm…scared of losing that happiness," he slowly admitted, "is probably it."

Talia's own expression softened, as well.

"And you're scared of losing the baby, and me…" she finished for him. "I– I know that, Beloved. I know you're just doing this out of fear and love and whatnot, and I– I'm not…. I'm sorry. For getting so angry at you over it." Her eyes now went to the opposite of the closest wall, cast off into the distance of the rest of the room.

Bruce nodded and gulped, stuffing down a million emotions in the process. His entire face stared directly at the ground, at such an abrupt angle that even the candlelight failed to light him any longer. He held this position for a bothersome amount of time, and as he did so, Talia stayed just as silent. They both processed the conversation they'd just had in a million different ways; Bruce mainly just stayed still as he thought, meanwhile Talia kept making subtle turns of the head every so often.

With every one of these movements, Talia's head got lower and lower, inching towards Bruce's drastic position. Her eyes mimicked this uncomfortable behavior. They kept blinking much quicker and more frequent than normal, and eventually, she could feel the corners of them filling up with salty tear water.

"You said that our child couldn't be as happy with pregnancy complications." Talia abruptly blurted out her thoughts. "But in the same way, how are they –or I, for that matter– supposed to be happy without you?"

"What do you mean?" he finally picked up his head, puzzled.

"Oh, nothing," Talia quickly blushed in embarrassment. "Just those ludicrous, improbable fears I mentioned earlier, I suppose."

"Hmmm," Bruce said, and he nodded, seeming to accept this as a final answer for a good half a second. Eventually, he bit his lip and continued, though. "Would you… Would you like to tell me those ludicrous fears? What they're about? Would you like to…. Discuss them? Tell them to someone?"

Talia gulped. She could still feel the tears pushing at her eyes, barely resisting the urge to let them go spilling out. Her eyes were still visibly glossy, even as she tried to keep it from looking so, and the sight made Bruce deeply frown. Her lips were also quivering, a vibration sensation that only made it more difficult for Talia to hold in her tears. Thus, she let them come out– slowly, and quietly, just like her next words.

"You keep putting my protection above not just your common sense, but the bare bones of your ability to protect yourself." she said. "I– I just worry that, with… I'm scared that… Well, Beloved, it's becoming more and more apparent that, in this situation, with you not prioritizing your own safety in the slightest…"

The tears stained the places they rolled down, making Talia's face feel almost soggy.

"You're a lot more likely to die than I am, I fear."

With those hard words out, she instantly brought her hands up to her eyes, frantically wiping the tears away with the ends of her fingers. It mostly worked, as it wasn't more than a few drops that came out before she was easily able to swallow the rest back down, but her face held the temporary blotches of red-tint even after.

"The thing you don't seem to understand, Beloved, is that between what I just said, the possibility of the allyship breaking, and just the general stress your behaviors could put on the child, we're just as doomed with your overprotective behavior as if you didn't try to protect me at all."

She breathed out in some futile attempt to calm herself, but the only thing she achieved was for the candle in front of her to flicker completely out.

Bruce fixed his posture again, but then, just as he'd come to the perfect position of sitting, abruptly pushed himself up. It only took a few slow, unsteady steps for him to completely circle the table, until he was directly behind his wife; the shadow of her body spilled on to him. He gently leaned over one of her shoulders.

"I know you already apologized, but I really should, too," he gave in. "You were obviously hurting and worried just as much as I was, so… I'm sorry if it was self-centered of me, to not listen anyway. I'm sorry for being defensive, and… oh, you know what I mean."

Talia turned her head to face the shoulder he looked over, "Yes, I do."

She was still upset. She was still very, very, upset. But with this apology, she managed to calm down significantly; her lips had completely quit quivering, as had her other fidgeting body parts, such as her shaky arms and hands. The frown on her face severely lessened, as well. In fact, the more time since the apology, the more the frown disappeared; eventually, a small, hopeful smile even began to surface.

"I take it that means you will listen about this, from now on?" her chin slanted upwards, but in a much kinder way than before. "I take it that you're willing to come up with a compromise about it?"

Bruce instantly nodded, "I'll expect you to keep off the battlefield and away from danger as much as possible, but in return, yes, I'll compromise. I won't prioritize you an amount that hurts others, including the whole war-prevention situation, but most importantly, I promise that I'll try to remember my own self-preservation skills enough that you, or the child in the future, won't have to worry about something happening to me."

"That… that works," Talia agreed. "Thank you."

Now, she got up herself, forcing Bruce to stop his leaning; with them both standing, her shadow covered him even more fully. His suit, which was oddly similar in color to the room's walls, appeared a mix of navy and black in the lack of light. Talia grabbed both of his navy-appearing gloves, holding the hands inside them tightly. She squeezed them both, letting her small smile grow into a bigger one.

Talia looked Bruce directly in the eyes. "I know things can be messy with the two of us, and then my duties to my father, but…we're going to figure this all out. Somehow." she said, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath in. "If not for ourselves, then for our sweet, precious baby."

"For the baby," Bruce repeated, smiling back at her.

Then, defying all logic and science, the candle lit right back up.

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