Untitled

Every morning started with tea in the sunroom, sitting across from you in slippers and bathrobes, discussing weather Damian needed new fencing blades. Every afternood blurred into hours reading side-by-side, training in the yard, or working on crossword puzzles you both failed at but refused to abandon. And every evening ended with the two of you curled up on the couch, a blanket shared between you, thighs brushing more than necessary as a film played quietly in the background.

Bruce came and went, often dragging you away for date night or some social obligation, and each time, Talia watched you go with a bitterness she refused to name.

She told herself it was jealousy but not of you. No. Of the life you had. One she had never been allowed to want. Until now.

It was another lazy evening, just the two of you on the couch, the sound of some rom-com flickering in the background. On-screen, two women stumbled throught a nightclub scene, drinks in hand, laughing wildly under flashing neon lights.

Talia raised an eyebrow. "this seems....ridiculous."

You turned towards her, eyes wide. "Wait. Have you never been to a club?"

Talia shrugged. "Not unless I was infiltrating one for intelligence or to assassinate someone."

You gasped dramatically. "you've never gone just for fun?"

"I don't.. do fun." she said flatly. You sat up, tossing the blanket aside. "That's it. We're going. Tonight."

Talia blinked. "Pardon?"

"I'm taking you clubbing," you said, already halfway to the door. "You have got to experience it once in your life. I'm not letting you die a club virgin."

Talia opened her mouth to protest, but you spun, hit her with that look. soft eyes, tilted head, hopeful smile- and she caved before she even realized it.

"Fine," she sighed.

You squealed and ran from the room.

"Get dressed!" you called out behind you. "Something sexy!"

*********

Talia, not knowing what was considered "club appropriate," Stared at her closet and chose the most impressive gown she owned; a long, emerald green evening dress with a high slit and open back. She slipped into heels and stood before the mirror, titling her head at her reflection. "...This seems correct," she mumbled.

And then the door creaked open. You stepped inside wearing a short, glittery black dress that clung to your curves and left your legs bare. Your hair was curled, your lips red, your eyes gleaming with mischief. Talia's breath caught in her throat.

"That's..not exactly club appropriate," you said, smirking at her choice. Talia blinked, still staring at you.

You crossed the room, heels clicking, and bent down to search her dresser. "Let's find something better."

Talia didn't respond, she couldn't. Her mouth went dry the moment you leaned forward, your dress riding up, exposing the edge of your thong and the curve of your ass.

She clenched her thighs together. hard. A sharp breath left her as she bit her bottom lip, eyes snapping away, but the image was burned into her mind like a brand.

When you stodd back up, you were holding something slinky and strappy.

"Here," you said cheerfully. "This. wear this." She didn't question it. just nodded, dazed.

**********

The club stank of sweat, perfume, and neon dreams. People moved in tight, desperate clusters. Bodies ground together under colored lights. Music throbbed through the walls like a pulse.

Talia hated it instantly.

And yet, your hand was in hers- small, warm, grounding; as you pulled her through the chaos toward the bar. Her heart beat faster from the touch alone.

"This is amazing!" you shouted over the music. Talia nodded, not trusting her voice.

You ordered four shots. When the bartender poured them, you passed her two, downed yours in one go, and beamed at her.

"Drink up!"

She did- if only because you asked her to.

Your smile widened as you grabbed her hand again. "Come on. let's dance!"

She followed you to the dance floor, uncertain, awkward, stiff. Her eyes darted around at the bodies pressed together, hips grinding, hands roaming. Her face flushed at the sight of women curled around each other, mouths close, bodies melting into the beat.

Then she looked at you.

You were moving already-carefree, wild, radiant.

She swallowed hard.

Before she could stop herself, she stepped behind you, hands reaching for your hips. She tugged gently, turning you so your back was to her.

You looked over your shoulder with a grin. And then you started to grind. Talia's hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, her own hips moving with yours. You danced like that for what felt like forever. Flushed, breathless, tangled in heat and flashing lights. Her head dipped once, close to your neck, catching your scent. Her lips barley brushed your skin before she pulled back like she'd been burned.

_

You drank more. You laughed louder. You touched her more freely with each passing hour.

Talia, despite the shots she took, was mostly fine. her assassin's training meant alcohol barely touched her system. But you? You were gone. Giggling. Flirty. Swaying.

You slapped her ass once and nearly fell over laughing. She caught you by the waist, lips twitching.

"You are completely intoxicated." Talia laughed as she parked the car in front of the manor.

"You're so pretty," you slurred. Talia froze.

You leaned in, eyes glassy, staring at her like she was something delicate and divine. "So, so pretty.."

"Thank you," she said breathlessly. "So are yo-"

You kissed her.

Soft, warm, sudden. Your lips crashed into hers, uncorrdinated and clumsy, but so earnest. She gasped against you but didn't pull away. Couldn't.

She kissed you back, Hands sliding to your waist, tugging you onto her lap where you straddled her. Your fingers tangled in her hair, your hips grinding down as your mouth devoured each other, breath hitching, lips parting.

Until you whimpered against her and pulled away, panting. "...Let's go inside," she murmured, no longer able to look you in the eye.

Bruce was waiting at the door. Talia hadn't thought that far ahead. She was still dazed, lips tingling, hand shaking. You stumbled up the walk and squealed, "Brucey!" Before launching yourself into his arms. He caught you effortlessly.

You kissed him, sloppily, deeply.

Talia turned her head. It felt like whiplash. Like watching someone rip open her chest and laugh at what was inside. "You're drunk," Bruce said with a chuckle.

"And you're hot," you slurred, kissing his neck. Talia wanted to disappear. "Come on," Bruce murmured, starting up the stairs. 'Let's get you in a bath."

"Only if you join me," you giggled. "Deal," he said softly, carring you away. Talia was left alone in the entryway, lipstick smeared across her lips, a tremble still in her hands. And a jealousy so sharp it felt like a dagger beneath her ribs.

*******

The next mornign, you didn't remember a thing. Not the shots. Not the dancing. Not the kiss.

Not her.

The bedroom was awash in soft gold light as you stood in front of the tall mirror, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress. The fabric was elegant, a deep wine red that clung to your curves before flaring gently at your hips. your hair was pinned up, pearls fastened to your ears, lips painted the same shade as the silk hugging your skin.

You were a vision. Talia watched from the doorway, silent, unsure why her breath had caught.

You hadn't noticed her yet; too focused on adjusting the straps. One had slipped down your shoulder, exposing the soft skin at your collarbone. You were muttering to yourself, fustrated. "I can't reach the zipper."

"Let me." You jumped a little but turned with a smile when you saw her.

"Talia," you exhaled. "I didn't hear you come in"

She stepped forward, graceful as always. "You need help."

You turned your back to her, pulling your hair aside. "If you wouldn't mind.." Talia's fingers brushed the fabric slowly, guiding the zipper upward with a steady hand. her knuckles grazed the small of your back, and she felt the goosebumps rise on your skin. Her hand lingered for a half a second too long.

"I've never seen you wear red before," she said, voice lower than usual.

"it's bruce's favorite," you said, a little breathless. 'he says it's dramatic."

"it suits you," she said, quietly.

When you turned around to thank her, her gaze caught yours and held it- just a second too long. Her eyes dropped it your lips, then to the exposed line of your throat.

"I should go check on the boys," you said, smile faltering just slightly. And just like that, the moment was gone.

Talia nodded, retreating. "Of course."

***********

The gala was already in full swing when she arrived.

She didn't belong here, not really. Not in this room of polished Gotham socialites and politicians pretending they care about charity while sipping champagne and whispering behind masks.

She'd never been invited to one of Bruce's Galas before. And this one wasn't any different. she wasn't supposed to be here.

But she came anyway. The dress she wore was sleek black velvet, long sleeves, a slit that revealed just enough leg to make heads turn. her hair was pinned in soft curls, a sharp contrast to her usual severe style. She moved like a ghost, silent and self-assured, weaving though the crowd with purpose.

And then she say you. You were standing beneath one of the chandeliers, glass in hand, laughing with DIck and Tim. The light caughted in your hair, shimmered across your shoulders. your laugh rang out like a melody in a ballroom of noise. you weren't just beautiful. You were radiant.

Talia's heart. the one she'd trained to be still, to beat only when commanded, betrayed her.

It pounded, fast and aching, like it hadn't in years. 'look at her,' she thought. 'God, look at her.' she wanted to turn around and leave. But you spotted her first.

"Talia?" you said, surprise blooming in your voice as you stepped away from your conversation and toward her. she straightened. "you look..."

you smiled. "You clean up well, too." There was a beat. The air shifted. "would you like to dance?" you asked.

She didn't answer with words.

She held out her hand.

*******

The music slowed to a soft waltz, and you stepped into each other's space like it was the most natural thing in the world. your hands slid up around her neck, and hers found your waist. delicate at first then firmer. grounding.

You moved together, step by step, breath to breath. Talia could barely hear the music over the sound of her own thoughts. 'She's so close. Her perfume. Her smile. Her laugh. God, her laugh. How is she real?'

She studied the curve of your mouth, the glint of joy in your eyes, the soft give of your body pressed against hers.

You weren't a trained killer. you weren't a queen. You weren't raised in shadows or sculpted for war. And yet..she had never met anyone more powerful. she found herself swaying in rhythm with you, letting your weight guide her movements. She's fought godlike men, betrayed nations, outwitted assassins- but nothing had every undone her quite like the way your thumb absentmindedly brushed the nape of her neck.

She looked at you like you were a painting she wasn't allowed to touch. she wanted to.

She wanted to, desperately.

You lips parted slightly. Her fingers curled tighter at your waist.

"Y/N," she whispered.

but before she could say another word- before she could lean in, or breathe you in, of fall completely apart. she felt a hand on your shoulder.

Bruce.

You turned toward him with a soft smile, unaware of the fire behind you. "Hey," you said.

"I've been looking for you," he said gently. "May I cut in?" You hesitated only a second. Talis's hand dropped from your waist. her body went cold.

"Of course," you said, stepping back. Bruce took you hand, and the two of you slipped back into the waltz like a practiced habit.

Talia turned away before she could see more. She didn't need to. The image was already branded behind her eyes. The way you leaned into his chest. The way he kissed your temple. The way you belonged to someone else.

And she hated herself for the bitter jealousy crawling up her throat.

******

You found her later, standing alone on the balcony with a flute of champagne in her hand and the night wind rustling through her hair.

"I was looking for you," you said. Talis didn't turn. "You found me."

You stepped beside her. "Bruce wanted me to tell you he's sorry."

"For what?"

"For ruining the moment."

Talia glanced at you. You looked down, cheeks flushed. "he saw us dancing. Said he wasn't trying to interrupt." Talia said nothing. "I told him it was fine."

"was it?" you didn't answer. You didn't know how. Talia turned back to the city lights. her voice was calm.

"you look beautiful tonight."

"so do you," you said.

The manor was quiet in the morning. The kind of quiet that only came when the chaos of night had finally given way to sleep. No alarms, no rooftop fights, no late-night injuries. Just birds outside the window and the occasional creak of old wood.

Talia moved through the halls in silence, her robe wrapped tightly around her, her feet bare against the polished floors. She hadn't returned to her room after waking up on the couch with you curled against her. She hadn't wanted to wake you, hadn't wanted to move at all. she hadn't felt that.. at peace in a very long time.

Now the stillness of the early morning pressed against her. She found herself outside Damian's bedroom door before she even realized where she was going. Her hand hovered above the doorknob.

She didn't have a plan. No carefully chosen words. No strategy. Just an ache. The kind of ache only a mother could carry.

Talia knocked once, light, tentative.

There was a beat of silence, and then a groggy voice answered, "come in."

she stepped inside. Damian was sitting up in bed, a book in his lap, bandage still wrapped over his shoulder. his eyes narrowed slightly when he saw her, but he didn't look away.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, unsure. She hadn't felt unsure of anything since she was five.

"...I wanted to see how you were feeling."

"I'm fine," Damian said quickly, looking back down at his book. "you don't have to check in."

"I want to," she said.

Damian didn't respond.

Talia stepped further into the room, careful, slow. "I know you didn't mean what you said the other day."

He shifted. "I kind of did. Her heart clenched. "I was angry," he said after a pause. "But I was also telling the truth. You came here and act like i'm a soldier again. You don't hug me. You don't even look at me like a mother."

Talia opened her mouth, then closed it again. Sat instead, perching gently at the edge of his bed.

"I don't know how." she said softly. Damian looked at her. He didn't expect that. "I was raised by a man who believed warmth was a weakness. That emotion was a liability. I learned how to fight, how to kill, how to command armies; before I ever learned how to comfort a crying child."

"you're not crying," she added after a beat. "But I... still feel like I'm failing you."

Damian stared at her, frowning. "you're not."

"I am," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "but I'm trying." for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Damian closed the book. "Why now?"

"Because your father didn't throw me out," she said dryly. "And... because she-" her voice faltered slightly, "-your mother reminded me that I could be more than what I was trained to be."

Damian glanced at her, a flicker of surprise passing across his face. "She makes it look easy," he said

"she does."

"I get mad at her sometimes, just like I get mad at you." Damian admitted. "But I love her."

Talia's gaze dropped. "I know."

"I love you too," he added. "even when you're cold. Even when you're... intense."

she let out the faintest breath of laughter. "I'm always intense."

"I know"

They sat in silence for a moment. Talia reached out- hesitant, unsure- and brushed a curl from his forehead. When he didn't move away, she rested her hand there. Damian didn't say anything, but he leaned into the touch, just slightly.

her heart trembled. "Would you... like to have breakfast together?" she asked.

Damian looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah"

***********

They sat at the long dining table, plates of warm waffles and fruit in front of them. Alfred served them both in quiet approval, offering a rare smile when Talia thanked him.

Talia sipped her tea and looked at her son; really looked at him. Not the soldier. not the heir. Just the boy. The one who loved animals and chess and spent far too long trying to beat Tim at everything.

She didn't say it out loud, but it pulsed in her chest. 'I love you, my son.'

The bathroom smelled like lavender and steam. you laughed as Bruce wiped a streak of toothpaste foam off you chin, grinning at the absurdity of it all. Two parents who'd survived rooftop chases and sleepless nights reduced to bedtime giggles and matching slippers.

"How do you always get toothpaste here?" he teased, tapping your chin. "Are you trying to eat it?"

"Maybe," you said playfully. "It's minty. Makes my mouth kissable."

Bruce leaned in, one brow raised. "I don't need the toothpaste for that." you kissed him, slow and soft, as your fingers toyed with the callar of his robe. Moments like this- laughing, touching, in sync- were what held your lives together. what reminded you that underneath the suit, the missions, and the endless pressure of being Gotham's first family.. you were still in love.

Stupidly. completely.

"What time is it?" you asked, brushing his hair back.

"Late," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. "The boys are in bed. Damian didn't come down for dinner again." your smiled dimmed.

you sighed, moving towards the bed. Bruce followed. The mattress dipped beneath your weight as your curled up together beneath the sheets. warm. Familiar.

But then he said it.

"I've been thinking about asking Talia to leave."

You blinked.

"...What?" He didn't meet your eyes. "She and Damian aren't connecting. He's shutting down again, and it's starting to affect his training. his attitude. Maybe if she went back to the League-"

"Bruce." your tone made him pause. "She's his mother."

"And she's doing more harm than good right now."

You sat up. "She's trying. don't you see that? you think she's just... some shadow passing through? she's lost, Bruce. She doesn't know how to be a mother because no one ever showed her how."

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "And it's my responsibility to give her a crash course in parenting while she destabilizes our son?"

"No," you said, voice rising. "But it is our responsibility to support her while she tries. Damian wants her here, even if he doesn't know how to say it."

Bruce stared at you.

"And what if she hurts him again?" he asked.

"What is she doesn't?" you shot back. "what if she finally becomes the parent he needs and we push her away before she even gets the chance?"

Silence.

You climbed out of bed, grabbing your robe.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere I don't feel like I'm the only one fighting for her," you snapped, and left without another word.

******

The manor kitchen was quiet, lit only by the faint hum of the fridge and the moonlight pouring in through the high windows. You turned the corner then yelped.

"Holy hell!" Talia was perched on the counter, barefoot in black silk pajamas, holding a fork and eating what was unmistakably the last slice of chocolate cake from Alfred's emergency dessert stash.

She didn't flinch. "You scare easily for a woman who lives with vigilantes."

You pressed a hand to your chest. "You scared the hell out of me."

she lifted the fork again. "Want a bite?"

despite yourself, you laughed. But your shoulders slumped almost immediately. you walked over to the island, sitting on one of the batstools with a long exhale.

Talia observed you quietly for a moment. Her eyes, usually so calculating, softened. "You're upset."

"No, I'm fine."

she cocked a brow. You sighed, defeated. "Fine. Myabe a little."

"Bruce?"

"...Yeah." she slid the plate toward you. "Eat. it'll help." you took the fork and poked at the cake. "We fought."

"lovers do that."

"He wants you to leave." Talia didn't respond, but you felt her body go very still.

"I told him no. I mean, I told him hell no," you muttered, staring at the crumbs. "I said you're Damian's mother and you deserve to be here. You deserve a chance."

Talia blinked. "You... defended me?"

You looked at her. "Of course I did."

She tilted her head slightly, like you were some strange painting she hadn't expected to admire.

"...Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you," you teased weakly. "well, maybe a little. mostly for Damian."

"Still," she said. "It's more than anyone's done in... a long time." The silence between you shifted, softer now. Intimate.

She hopped down from the counter and gestured toward the living room.

"Come. Let's sit."

*****

The T.V. glowed in the dark, playing some old rom-com on mute. You curled up on the massive sectional couch, legs tucked under you. Talia sat beside you, her usual grace traded for something quieter, more...human.

You talked. About Bruce. About Damian. About the weight of parenting children born into war. "You're good at this," Talia said finally.

"At what?"

"Mothering. Soothing. Making people feel...safe."

You shrugged. "It's just what you do when you love someone."

She didn't reply.

And maybe that was the difference; maybe Talia had never had someone to do that for her. did she even know what that looked like?

Your eyes dropped as the minutes passed. warmth settled into your bones. The comfort of company, of not being alone after a fight, was enough to make your head nod.

"i'm just gonna..." you murmured, half-asleep as your curled into the couch pillow.

"Get some rest," Talia said. I'll watch over you."

*****

She didn't meant to fall asleep.

Talia was trained to resist exhaustion, to function under presssure, to always be in control.

But somewhere between watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest and listening to the soft static of the muted television... she drifted off.

When she woke, the sun was bleeding into the windows.

And you were on her chest, curled into her like you'd always belonged there.

Her arms had wrapped around you sometime during the night. your thigh was slung gently over hers. And your cheek pressed against her collarbone.

Talia's breath hitched.

She dared not move.

You stirred, shifting slightly but not waking. Your hand curled against her side.

Talia stared up at the ceiling, heart thudding like it did the first time she'd ever been afraid.

Of you.

Of this.

You woke a few minutes later, blinking slowly, smiling without thinking.

"Morning."

The whir of the Batcomputer echoed faintly through the cave. You sat cross-legged at the long metal table, surrounded by scattered pieces of armor and torn bits of Kevlar. Tim's utility belt was half open, Dick's gloves had a tear along the seam, and Jason, ever reckless, had apparently caught his could on something jagged enough to slice the entire side of his suit.

Your needle paused mid-stitch. You held the dark fabric up to the light and frowned.

"I don't understand why none of them can bring these back in one piece," you muttered.

Across the training mats, Talia said nothing. She was silent but far from still; a blur of precision and purpos. Her fists cracked against a reinforced dummy, her movements sharp and unrelenting. She didn't sweat. she glistened. She was graceful in a way that made you think of panthers and blades.

It had become a quiet rhythm between you two. You, the homemaker in the cave, mending what they broke. Talia, the warrior, always pushing her body to the limit.

And though neither of you said it aloud, you had started to exist comfortably in each other's periphery.

That quiet was broken by the sudden beep from the comms panel.

Talia stopped mid-strike. You set you sewing aside and stood.

Bruce's voice came through, low and strained. "Damian's down. He's hurt." The words hit like a cold gust of wind.

You didn't ask for permission. you moved.

You and Talia reached the med bay in the manor first. Bruce was still on his way in with Damian in his arms, unconscious, Pale, a gash across his shoulder and blood soaked into the edge of his tunic. Your heart leapt to your throat at the sight.

"Oh my God," You gasped, rushing to help as Bruce placed him carefully on the table.

"He's stable," Bruce said, out of breath. "It was a clean strike. Tim cauterized it but he passed out from blood loss."

You were already moving to grab bandages, antiseptic, anything that wasn't bolted down. your hands trembled as you hovered over him, brushing the hair from his forehead.

"My baby," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I'm here, sweetheart. It's okay. You're okay." You stroked his cheek, wiped the blood from his brow with the gentleness of a mother holding her newborn for the first time. Talia stodd across the room, silent, tense. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Who did this?" she asked finally. Bruce glanced at her. "It was a low-tier assassin. One of Slade's old operatives. We didn't realize they were active in Gotham."

Talia's eyes narrowed. "He is not supposed to be caught off-guard."

"Talia," You said gently, still holding Damian's hand. "he's just a boy-"

"No," she snapped. "He is my son. The heir to the League. He has been trained since he could walk. He was raised for this."

She moved closer, eyes burning. "You were bested by a nobody, Damian. A discarded blade in Slade Wilson's rusted toolbox."

Damian stirred slightly, voice hoarse. "Mother, I'm fine"

"You are supposed to be better than this. You are better than this."

His eyes opened, glassy but sharp. "I said I'm fine."

Talia didn't stop. "You have disgraced-"

"I don't want you here!" His voice cracked across the room like thunder. You flinched. Damian's hand balled into fists. "You're not even trying to help! you just make everything worse!"

Talia froze.

Something in her eyes flickered; not anger, but something far more brittle. For a moment, she looked.. stunned. Not like the league's heir, or Gotham's specter, or a woman who killed for less.

Just a mother. Wounded.

She said nothing. She turned on her heel and walked out.

***********

The moonlight poured into the garden that night like spilled milk across stone.

You found her by the koi pond, standing like a statue in the half-light. her arms were at her sides now, hair loose around her shoulders. she didn't look up when you approached.

You stopped beside her and waited. "You didn't have to come out here," Talia said finally.

"I know."

"I'm not used to being dismissed," she said. "let alone....by him."

"He didn't mean it."

"No," she said quietly. "But he felt it."

You looked at her for a long moment. Her face was so calm. But her hands were shaking.

"are you okay?" You asked softly.

Talia blinked. Her eyes turned to yours, like she didn't understand the question. No one had ever asked it before.

"I don't-" she looked away. "I don't know what I'm doing with him. with any of this."

You stepped closer.

"I saw the way you looked at him," she said. "The way you kissed his forehead. held his hand. I've never done that. I don't know how."

"You do," you said gently.

"I don't have that instinct. That softness. I wasn't built with it."

"Maybe not," you said. "But that doesn't mean you can't learn." she looked at you, finally.

"It's not about being soft," you said. "It's about being there. And you are."

She swallowed hard. "but it's not enough."

"It will be."

You smiled gently and reached for her hand.

She let you take it. Yous stood there together in silence. Two women from different worlds. Both trying, in your own ways, to love the same boy.

After a while, Talia looked back toward the manor. "I see why Bruce loves you," she said quietly.

You smiled. "I see why Damian needs you," you replied. Talia's lips twitched. Something between a smirk and a sigh. And though she would never say it aloud, that night in the garden, for the first time in a long time; she felt grateful.

Not to fate.

Not to the League.

Not even to Bruce.

Chapter one: For Him

Summary: When Talia Al Ghul agrees to stay at Wayne Manor at Damian's request, the last person she expects to bond with is Bruce Wayne's wife, a civilian housewife.

Warning: None

*******

You didn't expect her to say yes.

The invitation was sent more out of duty than desire. A gesture made in good faith, sealed with Damian's pleading eyes and Alfred's gentle encouragement. You had half-expected Bruce to intercept it, crumple it in his calloused hands, and toss it into the fireplace with a stern, "this isn't a good idea."

But the envelope had gone untouched. And now here you were, smoothing down your blouse for the third time, glancing at the dining room clock like it might turn back and undo this entire night.

"She'll come," Damian Said with the certainty of a child raised by both shadows and kings. "she always keeps her word."

You gave him a thin smile. "That's what I'm afraid of." you muttered.

*********

Talia arrived ten minutes late. On purpose, you suspected.

She swept through the door like smoke, sharp heels, darker eyes, and a silence that filled the room before she spoke. She wore black, of course. Not mourning, not elegance- Power.

She was striking in that dangerous kind of way; the kind of woman who didn't need a weapon in hand to feel like one.

"Miss Al Ghul," you greeted. "Mrs. Wayne" she said with vemon.

And that was it. Not a handshake. Not a smile. Just an icy acknowledgement and a long silence that stretched through the foyer like a taut wire.

Dinner was a fragile performance. Talia sat across from you at the long table, her posture impeccable, her conversation minimal. Damian filled in the gaps, recounting stories from school and patrols, always careful to divide his attention between the two of you. He was trying so hard; you could see it in the way he glanced between you, measuring every word, every tone, like peace was something he could balance on a fork.

Bruce was quiet, naturally. Watching. Studying. Occasionally reaching for your hand beneath the table, grounding you in subtle ways.

"you've done well," Talia said, finally, her voice low as she picked at her salad. It took you a second to realize she was talking to you. "With Damian," She clarified, as if it wounded her to say it aloud "He's... steadier than he was."

"Thank you," you said carefully. "But he's done the work. I've just been here."

Her eyes flicked up. "That's more than most."

There was something unreadable in her expression, and it took you a moment to recognize it.

Was that...Gratitude? No. Respect.

However small, however begrudging, it was there.

***********

After dinner, the men excused themselves to the cave for a systems check. Damian offered to stay, clearly nervous to leave the two of you alone, but Bruce gave him a slight nudge.

"She's not going to stab me, Damian," You murmured, half-joking.

Talia said nothing, but a single brow rose in amusement.

Once they were gone, the silence between you settled like fog.

You poured wine. Offered her a glass. She accepted, but didn't drink."

"I didn't come here to play nice," she said finally.

"I didn't expect you to," you replied, meeting her gaze.

She tilted her head slightly, studying you. "then why invite me?"

"Because he asked me to."

Talia's expression didn't change, but something in her shoulders shifted. A breath, maybe. A tension released.

"And you always do what he asks?"

"No," you said. "But I try to do what's right for Damian."

That gave her pause. The silence between you changed then. no longer charged, but contemplative.

You landed back in your chair, taking her in more fully. There was something brittle in her tonight, something under the sleek lines and poised mask that felt... tired. Not weak. Never weak. But worn.

"I don't hate you, you know," you said softly.

She looked at you like she didn't believe you.

"I don't," you repeated. "I didn't know what to expect when I married Bruce. I knew about you. I knew about your history. I just didn't know it would feel like... carrying someone else's ghost."

That made her eyes sharpen. "I'm not dead."

"No," you said. "But sometimes I think part of him still lives in that time. when it was just you and the mission." Her grip tightened around her wine glass. "He chose you."

"I know."

you didn't say it like a victory. Just a fact. One that sat heavy on the table between you.

"I'm not here to take anything from you," she said after a long pause.

You believed her. But that didn't mean it was easy

*********

Later, as the hour grew late, Talia stodd and reached for her coat. Damian rushed in from the hall, his eyes darting between you both. "You're leaving already?"

"It's late," she said, smoothing her sleeve. "And I'm not needed here."

Damian frowned. "You're always needed." Her hand stilled for a fraction of a second, resting against his cheek. And in that brief moment, something like softness passed over her face. "You have more than you know, ibni." (My Son.)

She turned to you then. Not cold. Not warm. But real. "Thank you," she said quietly. You didn't need to ask what for.

***********

After she left, you sat alone at the table for a long time, starring at the wine you hadn't finished. You told yourself it had gone better than expected. That maybe this was the beginning of a tentative truce.

But as the night deepened and the shadows stretched across the empty seat she'd left behind, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.

Not just for Damian.

Not just for Bruce.