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Chapter Text

GOTHAM 1918

The ballroom was busy, filled with the Gotham elites and other neighbouring royal families, swinging and swaying with drinks in hand to the music flowing through the large room. All were waiting for the guests of honour to enter, some of the patrons kept flicking their eyes toward the grand hulking staircase. After a few more minutes of chatter, silence flooded the hall, all eyes flitting to the staircase, looking in awe as King Bruce Wayne descends the stairs arm-in-arm with his wife Queen Selina.

The two of them are being trailed by the Wayne’s children, the two eldest princes waving with smiles toward the crowd. Prince Richard, the eldest of the clan at sixteen, decked out in his black suit, with the blue accents in the form of flowers placed over the outfit to compliment his eyes. Tucked closely by his side is Prince Jason only a little shorter than his brother, but average height for a fourteen-year-old boy, his black and red velvet suit shimmers in the candlelight making it look as though the suit is changing colour.

Finally at the very end of the group is the youngest of the children, ten-year-old Princess Cassandra in her elegant light-yellow gown, her neck adorned with her grandmother’s pearls that she normally isn’t allowed to wear, but tonight her mother bestowed them upon her. Is holding hands with the youngest Wayne, Prince Timothy, the little six-year-old rubs his eyes and yawns from behind the princess. She attempts to block everyone’s view of Timothy, the young boy was far too tired for this type of event at night, all she wanted to do was let him have his break after a busy day.

The Wayne’s have been ruling over Gotham for centuries, but King Bruce is the first of his family to actually try to speak and hear out Gotham’s poorer population, he might not be doing enough, but he is making an attempt. Though there is still a group of people who believe that it is too little, too late, and they have been making plans, plans that they intend upon enacting tonight.

The family make their way down into the bustling ballroom, spreading out through the room in their pairs. Cassandra begins to dance around the room with Timothy in hand, she promised earlier to teach him how to dance properly earlier that day. She swings him in circles, spinning him around the floor as he giggles. He nearly trips on his feet a few times, but before he can fall, she always picks him back up and dusts him off. Finally, as the song slows, she pulls him into her, allowing him to latch onto her in a tight hug.

“Thanks Cassie, but can we go to bed now?” Tim mumbles sleepily into the bodice of her dress, arms tightly wrapped around her waist. she chuckles, stroking Tim’s hair, glancing at the crowd, searching for an escape to the outskirts of the room. Before she finds one, she makes eye contact with her father who is standing with some boring looking old men, mother nowhere to be found, he looks at the two of them with a light smile on his face, he twitches his head to the left, her eyes follow, finding a gap in the crowd. She mouths and ‘I love you’ to her father, who’s smile widens as he mouths ‘I love you too’ as two of his children make an escape.

“Of course little brother, hold my hand, let’s get you to bed.” she begins to guide Tim out to the side of the ballroom. Swiftly avoiding the hands trying to pinch her cheeks and the people trying to pull the two of them apart, holding Timothy closely to her back.

She finally reaches the outskirts when she hears it, a blood curdling scream, being ripped from the throat of her eldest brother. She quickly slips the two of them behind a tall, imposing pillar, head spinning round to see the crowd begin to scatter, her family smack bang in the middle with a group of men standing behind them, each holding a gun to their heads, as soon as she sees the horror before her, she clasps a hand over Timothy’s eyes. Richard lays limply on the floor, Jason staring down at him in silent horror, she cannot bear to continue looking at the scene. Her father meets her eyes, he is seemingly pleading for her to do something, he mouths one simple word, ‘run’.

And that she does, sneakily slipping out of the ballroom grasping desperately Timothy as tightly as a little ten-year-old girl can. Navigating the maze of the castle with her distressed and crying baby brother in her arms, trying to blend the two of them into the chaos of the escaping crowd. Every time that she feels herself slow, her legs begin to give out on her, she recalls the scene she just escaped from and her vice like grip tightens around the panicked boy in her arm and her legs speed their near automatic movements.

As she is finally hit by the ever-present chill that comes along with the freezing Gotham winter, the chill that she usually detests, makes her want to cry in relief, at the realisation that she has escaped. That relief is short lived however, as she is made to shudder by the shock of a barrage of gunshots going off behind her, she feels a tear slide down her cheek at the implication of those gunshots. Tim’s sobs cause him to double over onto the snow, she grabs the boy and slings him upon her back, hunching down she runs as fast as she can not slowing down until she is well within he forest she normally fears so greatly. By the time the two of them get that far, their clothes are well truly ruined and Timothy is asleep on her back.

While clutching the pearls on her neck, she glances around the dark and daunting forest, searching for light. She spies some light faintly in the distance, using the last of her energy to get the two of them as close to it as possible. She gets close enough to make out a building, but her vision begins to blur, exhaustion finally taking hold, her legs begin to wobble. Unfortunately, her body decided to give out in the wrong place, her numb and shaky legs make contact with a rock, as she trips, she screams as loud as she can as the two of them are sent to the ground, hands still clasped together as heads slamming painfully into the rock. She is finally forced into unconsciousness, not able to see the two men running from the building towards her. Her dreams are murky as memories escape her brain through the wound on her head. She can hear murmured words of affection and love, feel warm hugs and kisses placed upon her crown, though the faces are blurry, Cassandra will wake knowing only her name, her brother and that they were loved, but not by whom, where they came from nor who they truly are.

Chapter Text

GOTHAM, CRIME ALLEY 1926

Harper Row runs through the busy streets of the grimy Crime Alley in Gotham, like a woman possessed, grasping hand with her younger brother. Harper slides through some side doors trying to move, sight unseen of the nosey public who are whispering hushed about still missing princess and prince, its been eight years without a word, bar the few dumb rumours and the consistent pleas from their mother for their safe return. She cannot help but chuckle, soon they will have more to talk about than ever.

“Harp, slow the heck down you are going to rip my shoulder off.” Cullen whines from behind, after slipping through a group of younger girls who stare at the two of them after murmuring under their breath. He may complain now, but he wont be soon, when they get their pay check for handing ‘The long lost royal children’ off to the Queen.

“Shut it Cullen, we are almost there and if you keep whining, I’ll take your share,” Harper grumbles. As the two of them slide through a skinny side street, ascending a rickety ramp of rotted wood, hopping over the more decayed slats, slowly climbing to the top of the long since abandoned clock tower that has become their home. Ever since their mother passed and father disappeared for speaking out against the current political state of Gotham, they joined up with another homeless Crime Alley runaway, with a scheme to escape this hell hole.

Gothamites need to stick together, as they always say, it has become an even worse place to be ever since Carmine Falcone’s ‘communist party’ took over, placing a warped version of communism, that more closely resembled an authoritarian dictatorship with greed having over powered ‘communism’. She would kick Falcon in the face himself, if it weren’t for the fact the man went missing immediately after his attack failed to kill all of the royals, only able to force them to flee.

After making their way carefully over the decaying planks and finally making it to the top of the tower, the two siblings are greeted by a sly smile and a flick of a long blonde ponytail. Stephanie Brown, once ‘employed’ by the royals all those years ago as a young girl, has now become a slick and quick-witted infamous con-woman, only known under the moniker of Spoiler.

“took you two long enough, I was about to make my way out there without you,” she slides past the two of them to grab the item that is their one way ticket to the reward from the Queen. The small jewellery box that was the last thing that the queen was ever able to give to the princess, they would be able to make the matching pearls easy, but this, this is their golden ticket. Steph had ‘stolen it’ after she assisted the princess and prince in their escape, she doesn’t think they noticed, but she opened each and every door for them and held back the attackers as best a little 10-year-old girl could.

Her and Princess Cassandra had always been friends, Steph escaped her father at the ripe old age of seven, she arrived at the castle and one of the maids took her in. the Princess took a liking to her, they would run along the halls together, dance, have tea parties and do just about anything together. The Princess taught her ballet, she once said that they should dance Swan Lake together, that Steph would make the perfect prince. The young Prince was like a little brother to her, he would show her all his drawings and watch as his sister and her danced around the halls, ever the prefect little audience member. The older princes used to joke about the two girls being brought together by fate, that the two would grow up and perhaps one day be the perfect rulers of Gotham.

Steph shook her head to loosen those betraying thoughts from her head. If she continues to think of the kindness the Royals used to show her, she might start to feel bad about she is about to do, she might feel that ever present yearning for the long lost, probably dead princess. The wily smile returns to her face as she regards the two people she has considered family for the past eight years, if her feeling of remorse for her future actions take hold then they will remain in this decaying death trap of a clocktower home. She leans against the wall as the two of them scramble to pack the final pieces of what little belongings they have, they are about to begin their search for a long lost princess and prince lookalike duo that they can present to the Queen.

SOMEWHERE ON THE BORDER OF BULDHAVEN AND GOTHAM

A girl has just aged out of the system, she’s about to set out into the big scary world, she only has a couple of dollars in her pocket, an old necklace that she worries between her fingers, a small backpack filled with clothes she has made and a plan. A plan to get herself to Paris.

“I have gotten you a job out by the Buldhaven harbour, just walk down the road and then to your left, once you get there ju- Cassie! Are you even listening to me?” Miss Mac shouts as she shoves an 18-year-old girl out of the orphanage grounds. That tall girl is waving at the children in the window, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to find her meddlesome little brother, she made him promise to stay, that she would be back for him when she found out who they are.

“Yes Miss Mac, down the road and to the left, I don’t even need to go there, it will just stop me from getting where I need to go,” Cassie states as she stares at the only thing that may lead her to her family. Strung within the pearls that have always decorated her neck is the phrase “Together in Paris”, the thing that has served as a life line to both her and her brother, the confirmation that whoever they were, they were loved. Timmy always said that one day they would find their family, somewhere in Paris.

“Get your head out of the clouds you ungrateful girl, I get you a job, I clothe you, feed you, care for you are your insolent brother for 8 years and this is the thanks I get?” The elderly woman whines, as she pushes Cassie out of the gate, abruptly locking her out. Cassie makes her way further down the road, swinging and swaying, humming the only song she can remember. When she finally greets the fork in the road, the metaphorical and literal different paths for her future. Before she can truly think about her next move, she is spooked by the crack of a twig behind her. She jumps around to face the bush, fists raised, body toward her target. She is shocked once more by the bush making a squeak before spitting out her idiot of a 14-year-old brother.

“Timmy!?”