Green Eyed Firework

Ra’s tuts. “Such language from an omega. I always told your father that allowing you ideas above your station would only hurt you, and here we are.”

“You did this,” Dick hisses. His head throbs in agony at the slightest of movements and it takes everything to keep him from groaning. “You did this.”

“Oh no, Richard, you did this,” Ra’s corrects with faux disappointment. “You dishonored your name and this kingdom. Cavorting with not one, not two, but four alphas? The morning of your wedding? You’ve brought shame on this family.”

“You,” Dick snarls, trying to struggle free of his bed, “you did this, you fucking snake, and Gotham will never bend to your rule.”

“My rule? I’m merely acting as regent for my dear grandson, as his previous guardian has been ruled unfit. And, of course, enjoying Timothy’s lovely company.”

Dick surges from the bed with a growl but agony lances up his spine near immediately. He crumples before he takes a single step, clutching the bed and panting heavily. Still, he lifts his head to glare at Ra’s.

“I don’t care if you stick me in the deepest, darkest cell in the dungeons,” Dick hisses, “I will stop you. I will never stop until you’ve left Gotham. Until my brothers are free of you.”

Ra’s lets the words hang in the air for a second before he shatters them, smirk growing on his face. “You seem to be laboring under a misapprehension, Richard. You have no more authority. You have been stripped of your name and titles. The council wants you gone, and I believe I’ve found the neatest solution to benefit all the wronged parties.”

Ra’s watches Dick’s face, clearly savoring his victory.

“No need to look so horrified, you were perfectly willing to sell yourself to him once already.” Ra’s grins wider as Dick’s eyes widen in comprehension. “You’re too dishonored for marriage, but the King of Defiance is still interested in you warming his bed.”

"Father," Grant said, fidgeting in place when Slade finally untangled himself from the kids and approached them. "It's good to have you home."

"Good to be back," Slade rumbled, scenting him in a brusque motion. "How's the castle? Everything good?" He turned his piercing gaze to Dick, and Dick fought not to flinch.

"Everything's good," Grant said as Slade brushed a hand against Dick's cheek in a casual scenting. Not a slap or a pinch.

"And the little princess?" Slade asked, resting his hand on the swell of Dick's stomach.

"Good," Dick unstuck his mouth to say, and winced at the hoarseness of his voice. "She's doing fine."

It's a good sign, he told himself. Slade would've been well within his rights to break the mating and throw Dick out of the castle--the castle staff had been walking on tenterhooks around him ever since they found out that Bruce had returned to Gotham. That Slade had reaffirmed the baby's position was a good sign.

"Dick started feeling sick again," Grant immediately snitched, and Dick winced. Slade's gaze sharpened on him. "He didn't eat anything all morning."

"I drank tea," Dick protested weakly, "And I'll eat more at lunch. It's just been a couple of mornings."

"Have you seen Villain?" Slade asked. Dick didn't answer, not quite sure how to phrase I'm not sure if I'm your mate or a prisoner. Slade's expression darkened and he growled, "If it happens again, go to Villain."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Dick responded, and Slade considered him before he stepped back.

"We'll talk later," he said, turning away to head to the stairs.

Well. That was ominous. Dick couldn't quite suppress the shudder as Slade walked away.

~#~

Dick didn't have the chance to talk to Slade all day. He managed to nibble at some bread under his stepchildren's beady gazes, but he'd thrown that up in the evening. Tea was the only thing he could keep down.

He understood why Slade was busy. Organizing a kingdom-wide retreat was no easy task, and Slade had to organize the management of the new territory as well. And he had to figure out an answer to everyone who was questioning why he'd gotten mixed up with Gotham in the first place.

Needless to say, Dick's fingers started trembling when he heard their bedroom door open. He was already dressed for bed, in a set that was more revealing than the comfortable clothes he'd been wearing while Slade was away, leaning against the headboard with a book in his hands.

Slade came into the room with an explosive sigh, stripping efficiently and dressing in sleep pants before climbing into the bed. "It feels good to be home," he yawned, crawling to Dick's side and resting an arm on his shoulders. Dick turned a page of the book and didn't tense when Slade pressed a kiss to his hair.

"How was Gotham?" he asked in a voice that didn't shake.

"Hot and dreary," came the complaint. "Your father was pissed at me, can't imagine why," Slade chuckled softly, before pressing another kiss to Dick's hair. "Sorry, little bird, no letters for you, but I told the couriers to prioritize mail from Gotham, so you'll probably get them soon."

Would he? Dick wasn't sure. Silence was an answer all on its own.

Dick needed to know what Bruce and Slade had agreed to. What new treaty they'd hammered out. But of course no one was going to tell him, not the omega, not even if he was the one who'd created the bargain in the first place.

All his work destroyed to pieces. The safety net he'd so painstakingly built, up in flames. And it was a long way down.

"Are you ready for bed?" Slade asked, and Dick murmured an agreement as he set the book aside.

Slade didn't reach for the hem of his clothes, merely curled around him and fell asleep quickly. Dick was the one laying awake, staring at the darkened ceiling, thoughts swirling.

He was so tired of picking up the pieces of his life every time his world shattered around him.

~#~

"Hey, Dickie."

"Jaybird," Dick smiled at the fifteen-year-old that was sprawled in the grass in front of him, and took a seat next to him. "How are you doing?"

"Great!" Jason beamed. "It's so much fun to be alive! Death is so boring."

"I can imagine."

Jason pushed himself up and did a cartwheel in the grass. Dick laughed when he tumbled, leaning back on his hands and watching his little brother fondly. A breeze stirred at his hair, and the sun shone above him, bright and cheerful.

"Hey, Dick." Jason was suddenly in front of him, still grinning. "Was it worth it?"

"Was what worth it, Jaybird?" Dick asked him, smiling.

"Bending over for him."

Dick stopped smiling. The breeze was colder now and he shivered.

Jason was still grinning, expression earnest and open. "It's what everyone wants from an omega, I know. So easy to lead alphas by their cocks, isn't it?"

Dick flinched, "I--Jason, no--I didn't--"

"Didn't what?" Jason tilted his head to one side, curious. "Didn't fuck Slade to get yourself a crown?"

"I--it wasn't like that," Dick defended himself weakly. "He--Gotham--Ra's was--"

"How long have you wanted to be king, Dickie?" Jason asked, voice growing harder. "How long were you waiting to take the throne?" His expression was narrowing. "Was Bruce leaving even a coincidence?"

Dick stared at him, throat tight.

"I didn't do anything to Bruce," he refuted, voice shaking. "Bruce left us alone! I had no choice--"

"You didn't believe him," Jason said softly, eyes malevolent. "You didn't believe I was alive."

"Jay--I'm sorry--"

"You didn't want us to come back."

"No," Dick said weakly, looking up from Jason to Bruce's hard eyes. Tim had his arms crossed and even Damian was turned away from him. "I was just trying to keep Gotham safe," Dick said, voice small.

"You wanted a crown on your head," the vicious voice said, and the weight of the crown pressed Dick into the ground. "I hope you enjoy it."

"No--Jason, please--Jason, no, I missed you, please--"

"You made your bed, Dickie," Jason shrugged and got up, walking away from where Dick was drowning in the earth. "No one's coming to save you."

The earth closed over Dick's head, and he couldn't breathe.

~#~

Dick woke up with a start. He sat half-upright before arms tightened around him with a grumble, forcing him to a stop. The room was dark and his heart was racing in his ears.

Slade grumbled again and Dick forced himself to lie back down before the alpha woke up. He wasn't escaping Slade's grasp. He stared up at the hangings, throat choked up, tears dripping down his face. He strangled the sobs. There was no one who cared to see them.

Bruce had been back for two months. Slade had first gotten wind of it through his men in Gotham, and then through a polite but steely request sent to Defiance to renegotiate their treaty. The request had made no mention of Jason and Talia, Slade had only found that information through his spies.

When Dick left Gotham, four months pregnant, trusting the kingdom in his councilors' hands while he toured Defiance, Tim and Damian had made him promise to return to Gotham before he gave birth. Damian had been excited at the idea of being an uncle. Both of them had wanted to come with him.

All of Dick's letters after Bruce came back had gone unanswered.

Dick hadn't tried to find Bruce. He could've, he could've poured his resources there, but he hadn't, choosing instead to deal with the threat of Ra's. Bruce had been months gone, Dick had given up hope that he'd ever come back, especially with Talia by his side. Dick had made the best option he could've at the time.

And he'd abandoned his father in the process. It--it was only fair they did the same.

Slade had known that Bruce wasn't dead, only missing, when Dick made the deal. But their deal was still broken, and Slade was not the kind of man that took that lightly.

Dick had made sure their treaty gave him leverage--by giving him leeway over Gotham, by letting him rule, by giving him power to protect him from Slade's whims. And in an instance, Bruce had stripped him of that power.

Now, Dick was alone and undefended, among a people that distrusted him, with a mate he'd inadvertently betrayed. The moment Slade realized that there would be no letters coming for Dick, that Bruce would not defend the son that had stolen his throne, that Gotham wouldn't stop him from doing whatever he liked to Dick--

Slade was not a forgiving man. And Dick had nowhere to run.

~#~

The morning didn't make things any easier.

Between the insomnia and the nausea, Dick was feeling increasingly run-down. Slade's presence at the breakfast table was enough distraction that no one was paying attention to Dick playing with his food, but it was a small consolation. The tea sat unhappily in his stomach as Dick headed off to Slade's open court.

It was a full day given that Slade had been gone for nearly a month, and many of the petitioners were upset about the renegotiated treaty. Dick winced every time a new one came up, shrinking further into his seat as they detailed abrupt relocations and lost harvests and a thousand other minutia. Slade dealt with all of them with a steady calm--he'd won a good number of concessions from Gotham for the rest of the year, but losing Gotham had still hurt Defiance.

Dick needed to figure out his new leverage, and fast. Slade was unhappy, the furrow to his forehead was proof enough, and Dick was the architect of this chaos. Dick had to conjure up a better deal, and a way for Slade to forget the havoc his last deal had caused, and Dick had no ideas.

He was exhausted. He felt queasy all the time. And no matter how hard he thought, it always wandered back to the same place--Dick had nothing left to bargain with.

In a normal marriage, if Bruce had agreed to their courtship, Dick would've gone to Defiance with a dowry. With guards of his own and money of his own, and Slade would've had to gift him territory of his own. Something he could fall back on.

But Dick had none of that. Gotham had been his dowry, but it hadn't been his to begin with. Slade had never agreed to give him any land in Defiance. Alphas wanted omegas as holes to fuck and breed, and Dick had given Slade both those things already. There was nothing left.

Dick took a deep, ragged breath as yet another petitioner complained about Gotham's taxes. He was not going to break down in the middle of court.

No matter how badly he wanted to.

Court dragged on for what felt like a small eternity, and Dick felt sharply nauseous by the time it concluded. Lunch felt like a very bad idea, but Rose was watching him like a hawk, and Dick didn't think he'd be able to dodge her idea of helping.

Actually, there was an idea. Slade's children had warmed up to him, if Dick coached his apology correctly and begged Slade for his forgiveness, he might let him off leniently, for the children's sake--

Black spots covered his vision when he stood up from his chair and Dick wobbled in place, balance suddenly lost. He couldn't--he couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything, his legs felt week and the world dizzy. Stinging pain erupted in his knees and Dick distantly realized he'd fallen.

Everything was buzzing in and out and it took several aching seconds before he could blink the grayness away. Sound returned slowly, and Dick realized there were arms wrapped around him, holding him upright as he swayed on his knees. "--get him here, as fast as you can," someone was snarling above his head, loud and alpha-furious, and Dick made a placating whine at the sound. "Dick?" the voice abruptly cut itself off. "Dick, can you hear me?"

Dick blinked again. He was...on his knees, in the throne room, one trembling hand braced against the ground. Slade was the one holding him up, worried gaze looking down at him. Several members of court were also ringing them, concern visible on every face.

Dick flushed. "I'm fine," he said, trying to get up. "I just stood too fast, that's all." But Slade wasn't letting him go, expression narrowing.

"I already called Villain," Slade said, voice brooking no argument. "You weren't responding for a full minute. Did you eat breakfast?"

Dick opened his mouth, decided he didn't need to compound his mistakes with lying, and closed it again. Slade's expression darkened further.

"I'm fine," Dick repeated weakly, but no one was listening to him. Slade barked out another set of orders clearing the throne room, and they were the only two left by the time Villain came in.

"What happened?" Villain asked, crouching next to Dick and taking his pulse.

"He fainted," Slade said tersely.

"I didn't faint," Dick protested. "I stood up too quickly, that's it."

"And he hasn't been eating," Slade said, ignoring him entirely. "Rose says he's been feeling ill."

"I'm fine!"

"When is the last full meal you've had?" Villain asked, eyebrow arched like he already knew the answer.

Dick swallowed and didn't open his mouth.

"And what about the last time you had a full night's sleep?" Villain asked. Dick dropped his gaze to stare at the floor. "Your Majesty, you need proper rest and nutrition. For both yourself and the baby."

"I've been trying," Dick said quietly, still staring at the floor. "I just--I keep waking up in the middle of the night, and I feel nauseous all the time."

"The stress of the past few months probably have something to do with that," Villain said, and Dick jolted. He was the first one that had actually come out and said it. Referenced the elephant in the room. And Slade remained silent beside him. "Go back to your rooms. I will speak to the kitchens and have them prepare something light and give you some herbal tea to help settle your stomach. Your alpha can help you destress." Villain ended with a pointed glare at Slade.

Dick tensed up at that, which Slade definitely didn't miss. But he didn't say anything, only helped Dick to his feet.

"Can you walk?" he asked brusquely, and then didn't let go when Dick nodded, hovering like Dick was going to collapse any second. They made it to their rooms without incident, upon which Slade straightened the sheets and closed the curtains and fluffed the pillows while Dick clung to the doorframe, fingers white, trying to breathe.

"Dick?" Slade turned towards him. Dick let go of the doorframe, finger by finger, and silently crossed to Slade. "Come here," his alpha rumbled, and Dick kept his gaze downcast as he crossed.

It would be a bit hard to convince him Dick would be a good parent to his children when he was already failing at that.

"Here," Slade said, pulling off the layers of silks. "Get comfortable in the bed." Dick woodenly slipped under the covers and crawled forward until he was leaning against the pillows Slade had arranged.

Slade climbed in after him, and his bulk soon curved around Dick, trapping him in place. Dick let Slade nudge his chin to the side, baring his neck, and squeezed his eyes shut when teeth pressed against his skin and bit down.

He was expecting the wave of submission, the relaxation seeping through him and turning him limp. It relieved his headache and quelled the knots in his stomach. He was not expecting the tears he'd been suppressing to burst forth, slipping down his face, unable to be stopped.

"Dick?" Slade sounded alarmed. "Dick, what's wrong?"

Dick twisted his head as much as he was able to hide it against the alpha's chest, sobbing louder. It felt like he was coming undone.

"Dick? Talk to me," Slade said, the authoritative tone fractured by desperation. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Dick took a deep breath and nearly choked on it, coughing as Slade rubbed his back. "I'm s--sorry," he managed between coughs, voice hoarse and cracking.

"It's okay," Slade said automatically. "What's wrong?"

Dick shook his head weakly. The vulnerability made him feel defenseless and Slade's warmth was a phantom of protection. "I'm sorry," he repeated, rasping, "I didn't--the treaty--"

"What's wrong with the treaty?"

"I'm sorry," Dick reiterated, still unable to stop the tears. "I promised you Gotham. I swear, Your Majesty, I didn't know this was going to happen. I'm so sorry."

Slade tensed underneath him and pulled slightly apart, tilting Dick's head up towards him. Dick couldn't see his face through the tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to betray you." As though intentions mattered. "Please--please--" please forgive me, he wanted to say, but he was crying too hard and he was enveloped in a tight hold.

"Shh," came the quiet rumble, with a hand rubbing down his back. "Shh, Dick, breathe. It's okay. Just breathe." The warmth was comforting and Dick couldn't tense up, so the soothing motion worked. "Deep breaths."

Dick's tears quietened but didn't stop when Slade pulled away again. This time, he held Dick's face, thumbs brushing away tears. "Look at me," Slade said quietly. "You didn't betray me."

"But Bruce--"

"I knew your father had never been declared dead before I agreed to our treaty, little bird. You didn't deceive me."

"But I promised you Gotham," Dick breathed out.

"No," Slade said simply, "you didn't." Dick stared him blankly. "Our deal was that you would rule Gotham."

"In our child's name--"

"I don't need another child sitting on a throne, Dick," Slade said quietly. Dick could finally see his face, serious and slightly pained. There was a quirk of a smile, "If you want to put a crown on the little princess' head, we can tell Grant. He's been looking for a way out of being Crown Prince for the past decade."

Dick smiled waveringly before it dropped. "But Gotham--"

"Was your rule. Bruce took that away from your kids. I'm not mad at you, little bird, I'm only mad for you."

Dick blinked. Oh.

"If you want it back, I can call up the armies," Slade offered.

"I don't want it," Dick shook his head. He'd never wanted it. Governing had been Tim's interest, never Dick's. "I just--I didn't want it to go to Ra's."

"And it won't." Slade pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You've been worrying for too long, little bird. You need rest." He curled back around Dick. "Your father isn't too pleased with me for stealing his son, but we can invite your pack members here for the birth. He'll have to forgive me when he gets a grandchild."

Dick chuckled, watery and weak. "I'll write a letter to them," he said, a tendril of hope poking out. Slade hummed and rocked them softly. It was soothing. Dick could feel his eyelids getting heavier as the submission combined with the exhaustion to send him to sleep.