"Lynette!" Lyney bursts into the living room with uncharacteristic clumsiness. Leaning against the door frame, Lyney looks like the perfect image of chaos. Little streamers erupt from his pockets and tiny fireworks explode, crackling from under hat and sleeve as he stumbles through the doorway.
The ominous smell of smoke begins to taint the air.
"Lyney, you know what the rules are about magic props inside the house," Lynette chides, blowing on her tea meticulously without looking at her brother.
"Is something wrong...Lyney?" Freminet asks hesitantly, unsure of how to breach the topic.
His older brother huffs dramatically, staggering over to the couch with comically elongated steps. Freminet has to remind himself that this is his older brother, Lyney the Magician, the responsible team leader they all look up to and admire.
He takes another look at Lyney's frazzled expression and decides that now might not be one of those times.
“Oh it’s horrid!” Lyney whines, “the show’s all falling to pieces now!” He exclaims, shoving his face into a cushion. Freminent glances at Lynette, who’s determinedly ignoring Lyney and eyeing a slice of cake on the table.
“Leave him be,” she says when she notices Freminent’s silent cry of help, “he’s just being dramatic. Lyney pull yourself together,” she scolds, carefully slicing through the cake with a fork, “you’re making Freminent worry.”
“Oh my dearest little brother! I had no idea, please forgive me for causing you grief!” Lyney monologues, in a manner not very different to how Lady Furina would deliver speeches, “but this is a matter of utmost importance, I’m really in a pickle.”
“Lynette, maybe…” Freminent begins, watching as his sister’s tail flicks, “hm? Oh alright,” she says in an exasperated voice, “Lyney, use your words. What. Is. It?”
“I,” Lyney begins, delighted to have an audience, “have a problem!”
“I’m delighted to know that you have gained self-awareness,” Lynette replies dryly, reaching for another slice of cake, Freminent watches her and knows that a scolding from Lyney is imminent, but keeps his mouth shut.
“Oh Lynette, how could you be so cold to your dear brother?” Lyney continues to complain, he rests his cheek on the cushion and sighs.
“Are you going to talk about your problem or not?”
“All in due time, there’s no need to be impatient,” Lyney retorts, Freminent blinks, clutching Pers a little tighter as he gets comfortable.
“See, it goes a little like this,” Lyney begins wistfully, “I’ve been experiencing something quite phenomenal you see,” he says, eye turning round, “my hands have been sweating a lot, and it’s like my heart is about to go–” Lyney snaps his fingers and miraculously, a shower of blue coloured butterflies erupt from his fingertips.
“Like that!” He waves his hands.
Freminet nods, “I see,” he says, absorbing himself in the storytelling.
“Just get on with it,” Lynette says, delicately pouring herself another cup of tea, her ears pricked in a very satisfied manner.
“Well!” Lyney continues unoffended, “my brain has also been going fuzzy and I’m finding it hard to focus…no matter what happens, I just keep thinking about the same thing. But sometimes I’m giddy and all mushy like–”
“Please don’t,” Lynette interrupts, “it’ll be a hassle to clean up later.”
“Oh just this once, please Lynette, please?”
Lynette sighs, “fine.” She says, with unamused eyes.
Lyney grins and melts himself onto the couch, “I’m melting like sugar, or one of those chocolates that dissolve in your mouth!” He proclaims, and throws a sweet at Freminet who catches it, “Caramel Melts; nothing like a melt to give you a little help,” he says slowly, reading the cursive print on the wrapper.
“Where did you get this from?” Freminet asks curiously.
“Unimportant,” Lyney says dismissively, “I’ll get you some more if you like them though, but anyways, all of the symptoms listed above,” Lyney unravels a scroll and unrolls it with a flourish.
Freminet should be used to Lyney’s tricks by now, but he’s still amazed at the fountain pen that begins writing by itself, “sweaty hands, strange emotions; mushiness, unreasonable amounts of joy…” he stops reading.
“All of these,” Lyney points at the scroll, “are what I believe are symptoms of…” he pauses for dramatic effect.
“That’s right! These are none other than…signs of heart stroke!” Lyney says proudly.
There is a long, fat silence.
The floor is very interesting, Freminet decides, and these shoes have a spectacular shine, I should really polish them some more, he thinks to himself.
“Lyney,” Lynette says, breaking the heavy silence, “you’re not going through heart stroke.”
Thank archons, Lynette is here! Freminet doesn’t think he’d have the courage to say that to Lyney’s face, in a manner that wouldn’t make Lyney even more melodramatic.
“What!? Then what is it?” Lyney asks, rising from the clutches of the plush couch for the first time.
“My diagnosis is…” Lynette pauses for dramatic effect, and Freminet swears Pers is listening attentively too.
They all hold their breaths.
“You’re in love, Lyney.” Lynette announces, taking a long sip of her tea. Freminet’s eyes widen, but it doesn’t compare to the heavy thud he hears and the long, loud shriek of, “WHAT?!” That echoes well and truly wonderfully throughout Hotel Bouffes d'ete. From then on, the urban legends of Fontaine often speculated about a most inhuman ghoul or perhaps, troll that was being kept hidden in the Hotel basement.
Not that such rumours could ever be proven.
“Let them imagine,” Lynette would say, sipping her tea nonchalantly, “a little shock has never hurt anyone,” she glances at Lyney, who’s been sitting on his chair with a stunned expression on his face. Indeed, Lynette helps herself to a macaroon, perhaps the next step is to give Lyney a little push, after all, a gentle nudge has never hurt anyone either.
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Clone^2 Damian
If you really think about, Damian's situation in the clone^2 au is... kinda tragic? Especially in the early months of his arrival. Like,,, think about it. Damian has always known he was a clone of Damian Wayne, that he was a copy of the blood son. There was nothing 'original' about him, not even his name (of which at least Danny has that). He was just... a replacement. A disposable one, to boot.
And he knew that, to an extent, by the time he was six years old. he might not have been actively acknowledging it -- he's six years old -- but deep down he knew. And like, he's six years old. Every small child craves the love and affection of an adult, especially their parents, and even though he knew he was clone, I imagine he still considered - and still does consider, somewhat - Talia and Bruce as his mother and father. And I really doubt he was... getting it?
Now, I know Talia loves Damian, her son. At least in some interpretations she does, and in this au she does. But... a clone of her son? I'm not so certain if she would have the same affection for baby Dames as she would for Damian. I don't think she would treat him badly, but I don't think Talia would treat him warmly either. Kinda just, distant. Colder than she would have been with OG Damian.
And, I know I've mentioned Damian's arrival from Danny's point of view, and its kind of comical kind of insane from his perspective -- a little boy clone of Damian Wayne falls through a portal and immediately attacks him. That sounds like a bad joke.
But, if you think of this from Damian's point of view? It's like he just got dropped into a scary movie. Like, think about it. You're six years old, and suddenly a portal, as green and as swirling as your grandfather's pools, opens up beneath your feet and sucks you through.
After an intense bout of vertigo, you end up in a massive, urban city -- completely different from the rural mountain palace that you lived in for the last six years of your life, and in this city, you don't know any of the language. You don't know what anyone is saying, you can't read any of the signs - you are completely stranded, away from home.
And then, to make things worse, you're facing a figure with a terrifying mask and eyes as burning green as the portal you fell through. Of course Damian's first instinct, six years old, is to attack. He's terrified.
And this figure, he's not a good fighter, but he's fast, and he dodges you quickly. He grabs your sword with his hands, and tries to restrain you, saying something in a language you don't know. Naturally, Damian is just scared. He's six! He'd just be learning how to read if he was normal child going to school.
This figure halfway through the fight yanks off his mask -- he realizes you're scared -- and looking at you now, is a youthful version of your father. This is a clone of your dad, someone you have never met but, six years old, still wants to. Damian gets defensive. This is an imposter.
But this imposter eventually gets you home with him - and he's using his little box, his phone, to communicate with you through a mechanical voice speaking in arabic. and it's frustrating. The boy, the imposter, can say whatever to you just fine, but trying to talk back is a hassle and a half. He's six, he doesn't have that much patience.
He wants to go home.
And so he keeps trying to run away. He keeps trying to find out of this hellish concrete jungle, and he keeps getting lost. It's loud, and busy, and there are people talking to you and you don't understand them, and there are rules and signs you don't understand - Damian tries to cross the street and nearly gets hit by a car. He doesn't know how the road signs work, he was never taught. They didn't get to that.
And he gets lost. And it gets dark, and Damian is brave, but he is six, and this is the worst stress he's been under in all his six years of life. He wants, desperately more than anything, to go home. Why wouldn't he? The only stable... semi-stable environment he was in just got ripped out from under his feet, literally! He wants his mother.
And it's not happening.
But there's something good to be said, at least. The imposter that looks like his father always comes and finds him, no matter what. He could have left that morning, and he will find Damian at midnight, frazzled and worried, and carrying an extra jacket with him because it is cold in Amity Park and Damian is six years old.
And sometimes Damian attacks him - he's scared and stressed and he doesn't want to be here. And every time he catches the sword. Even though Damian can see it cut into his hand and pearls of blood well up and stains his fingers. Even though Damian can see him wince in pain and bite his lip, he still catches it.
But with that little box, he coaxes Damian to come back with him. It's cold, it's dark, Amity Park is unsafe at night. They can figure something out tomorrow, please. And every time, he agrees, reluctantly. And the imposter takes the extra jacket he brought with -- a flannel, a hoodie, a jacket -- and he wraps it around him. It's warm, Damian's clothes are not that thick, and even though he thinks he might hate this imposter, he still sticks close to his legs as he leads him down the street.
And sometimes the imposter carries him, because Damian's shoes are not that thick, and he cuts his foot on broken glass while they're walking home. The imposter sits in the bathroom with him and carefully cleans the cut out, and makes sure it doesn't get infected.
There's hope you know, he still has it. His mother will be looking for him. She'll be worried. He's important to them. Damian may not be the original, but he is still a blood son. He is still her son. She will come find him. This nightmare will end soon. He can go home.
And then weeks pass, and nothing. Then months, and nothing. His family is not coming for him, and it hurts. Hurts more than anything. And yet while that happens, the boy he's attacked, and hurt, teaches himself arabic in order to speak to him. He takes Damian out of the house one afternoon and buys him new clothes, or tries to. And then he keeps buying him new clothes. He gives him blankets and gives up his bed to him until they can get him one himself, and steadily he teaches Damian english.
This boy is kind. Kinder than Damian's ever experienced, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's devastated by the fact that he is not as important to his family as his family is to him. What do you do when you're six years old and you learn something like that? When a random stranger who looks like your father is kinder to you, and cares more about you than your family did?
And then Damian tells him he's a clone. He's Damian Wayne's clone, and he tells him his purpose - that their grandfather made him to kill him. And the boy, the imposter, Damian thinks he probably already knows that he's a clone. But he doesn't say that. He just nods, and asks him if he wants to tell his original about him.
Damian says no. He doesn't want to. He's tired of living in the shadow of his original. He wants to keep this to himself. This is his. For once, all of this is his.
And to his surprise, the imposter doesn't try and convince him otherwise. He just nods, and says okay. And when Damian asks why, the imposter - his brother - looks at him and says.
"I don't care about Damian Wayne. I care about you." And in Damian's gobsmacked silence, his brother continues. He tells him that if Damian doesn't want to tell his original that he exists, then they don't need to. They don't need to worry about the LoA going after him, because clearly if his 'grandfather' needs to make a clone of Damian in order to take him out, then whatever it was that Damian Wayne was doing to keep himself safe, was working.
"Wayne already has people in his corner, he's got Gotham's army of vigilantes to keep himself safe." his brother says with his eyes as blue as moonlight. "You, however. Do not." And he continues, and says that if Damian Wayne has the same training as Damian does, then he will be fine. He doesn't need to be aware of his clone. Because if DW doesn't know about Damian, then the LoA doesn't either.
And here's the thing. Damian would not have survived in the LoA for long. Not as a clone. No matter what, he was going to die no matter what he did, and sooner rather than later. The sword of Damocles was always hanging above his head in the League of Assassins.
That portal, and meeting Danny, saved his life. There's no way around it. And to an extent Damian knows this even at six years old. He may not be aware that he would've died, but he knows that meeting Danny was the best thing to happen to him.
It's no wonder after that, that Damian is as clingy to Danny as he is. Danny is the first person he's met to offer him unconditional love, with no strings attached, only pure affection.
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