Chapter Text
Talia’s head was spinning.
She’d known this day would come. Ever since she’d come up with the idea nearly 8 years ago.
Honestly, she was surprised it lasted as long as it did.
How no one had heard the sounds of an infant crying the dozens of times she’d been unable to shush Athanasia, she wasn't sure. Those days were terrifying, but the sheer panic she had felt every time footsteps approached the door to her personal quarters after any such episode was nothing compared to what she felt now.
The rush of blood was pounding through her head, nearly deafening her. Making her fingers go numb. Her heart clench. Her face feel cold. Her body shake.
It was all she could do to remain standing. To prevent any of it from showing.
Because, somehow, her father had found out.
“You thought you could hide a granddaughter from me,” Ra’s was saying, but she was barely listening.
She’d known this day was coming.
Athanasia was seven now. She was not a helpless infant. Talia had half a dozen extraction plans, and twice as many escape plans.
“I have no need for two granddaughters,” Ra’s said and Talia resisted the urge to suck in a deep breath. To scream at her father. To cry out in anguish. Instead, she focused on steeling herself, as she went through every plan.
“I will give the girl a chance to prove herself,” he continued, smiling like he were being kind, “Bring her to me at dawn. She shall face the daughter of the White Ghost in combat.”
To the death, he meant.
Talia closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. “Of course, Father,” she said, her tone flat and uninterested. Like the entire charade were a mere inconvenience to her.
It made her sick.
Talia didn’t have any real affection for her brother’s child, the girl called Mara. She was so cruel to Damian, but Ra’s had been training her just as long as he’d been training Damian. The idea he would just throw her aside for an untrained child…
She’d have to include Mara in the plans. It would be cruel not to.
Not difficult. She already had fake papers for her, of course, but it severely limited them.
Jason would have to be involved, as well, of course.
Father had already made it clear he would rather execute Jason and send the head to Bruce as a momento of the last time they’d faced each other in battle. But Talia had argued that Jason could be useful.
He would be useful. Now. He was well trained with a heart for children. Really, a heart for the innocent, and her children were innocent. He’d protect Athanasia and Damian with his life. And Mara, she supposed.
“You have disappointed me, daughter. Do not allow it to happen again.”
“Yes, Father,” Talia said, kneeling down to dip her head toward her father.
It would not happen again.
Her and her children would be long gone from the compound by dawn. If she had to bring them to Batman himself for protection, she would.
That would be exactly what Ra’s expected, however, so perhaps they could pick a nice quiet cottage in the French countryside. Or a flat in London. Or an apartment in New York City.
Wherever they went, it would be far away from Ra’s and his reach.
Talia went back to her quarters as soon as Ra’s dismissed her. She was expected to prepare Athanasia for her battle in 9 hours. Instead, she was going to prepare all the children to leave. And somehow keep from tipping off her father.
Athanasia was right where she’d left her, an hour previous, when she’d been summoned to Ra’s. She had debated hiding her, but not once in the girl’s seven years of life had anyone actually entered her quarters while she was away.
And Athanasia always looked so peaceful while sleeping. Talia loathed to wake her, only to sow a seed of panic.
She sat on the bed they shared and ran a hand through Attie’s long locks. The resemblance she held to her infant self—to that of Damian—always took Talia’s breath away. To be reminded of the child Damian had been, before her father forced training on him, was painful. But to remember the child Athanasia was. The happy, sweet child.
Talia had always wanted a daughter. She had been creating Attie already when she realized her father would never allow her to have Damian. With her only choices being abandon Damian or keep Athanasia hidden, she hadn’t seen much of an option.
Sure, Bruce would have harbored her, no questions asked. Especially back then, so soon after their relationship. Her refusal to leave the League had been exactly why they broke up. Had she just left, and brought along their daughter, she was sure he would have welcomed them with open arms.
But Talia could not bring herself to abandon her son.
So she remained. She remained, and she taught Athanasia how to be quiet. How to be quiet and hidden. How to defend herself silently. She was good, but she was no where near as good as Damian or Mara. Her skills were that of self-defense. Born of necessity. She would not last thirty seconds against Mara, and Talia wouldn’t have it any other way.
No child deserved the training Ra’s forced on Damian or Mara.
Or on herself.
“Wake up, my princess,” she whispered, patting at Attie’s face, “we must prepare.”
“What, Mama?” her sleepy voice replied, as she dramatically stretched and rubbed her eyes.
“We are leaving,” Talia whispered, “we must prepare.”
Athanasia sat up and blinked at Talia, clearly struggling with herself to fully wake. “Where are we going?”
“Away, my love,” she said, leaning forward to kiss Attie on the forehead, “With your brother.”
She perked up at that, instantly awake as she asked, “Can I meet him this time?”
“Yes, darling. You will meet him.”
That set Attie off, as she bounced off the bed and to the closet where her things were hidden behind a false wall. It was her safe room, where she hid while Talia was away for any length of time. Or when people were over at her quarters.
The thought of Attie having her own bedroom with her own things proudly displayed, out in the open, brought a smile to Talia’s face.
Perhaps they should have run years ago.
“Do you think he’ll like me?” Athanasia asked, smiling as she changed into the traditional robes of the League. Some Talia had snatched of Mara’s, from when she’d grown out of them.
“Of course, my dear,” she said, standing to help her daughter pull together her belongings and pack them into her bag, “He will love you.”
“Can I meet him now?” she asked, as she zipped up her bag with Talia’s help, “I’m ready.”
“Not yet,” Talia said, placing her hands on Attie’s shoulders and kneeling down, “First, you must hide while I prepare the others.”
Athanasia’s face fell, but she asked, “Others?”
“Yes. Damian and your cousin, Mara.” When Attie nodded, Talia continued, “I will return for you soon, or send someone for you. Do not come out for anyone but me or Jason.”
“Who is Jason?” Athanasia asked, her anxiety at the idea of a new person not at all masked on her face. It was one of the many things Talia loved about Attie. She actually showed her emotions, even if she knew how to experience them silently.
“Jason is…” Talia started, then paused for a second, “he is your half-brother.”
“I have another brother?” she whispered, in awe as a smile grew, “Why have you not mentioned him?”
“He is your father’s son, not mine. But he is kind, and he will help us leave.”
“Will we meet Father, too?”
“No, darling,” Talia said, planting one last kiss into her hair, “Not this time. Now hide and I will see you soon. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mama,” Athanasia said, backing up into her hiding spot and sitting down. Talia shut the false wall in front of her and took a deep breath.
It was going to be a long night. But tomorrow? Next week? It will all have been worth it.