Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Medea remembers the aches brought on by the crowbar, the sting of betrayal, the ticking of the timer, the heat of the explosion, the thick, heavy, choking smoke she inhaled.

She remembers being alone when she took her last breath. Alone, and afraid, and in pain. But when she closed her eyes as her life drained out of her, Medea couldn’t feel the pain anymore.

“Open your eyes, my child,” a voice calls out, “you are safe here. Open your eyes.” Medea is vaguely aware of the hand carding through her hair in a motherly way, like how Catherine used to when she was even younger than she was now.

She listens to the voice and opens her eyes slowly. In front of her is a woman she’s never met before as far as she can recall.

“There you are sweetling,” the woman smiles, “Now do you know where you are?”

“No… I don’t— where is this— what place—” Medea takes a deep breath, “I’m dead… I died… who—?”

“Hush child, you’ve nothing to worry about here. Yes, you did die.” the woman confirms. “And as for who I am… well I am Death. Welcome to my home, Medea.”

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Death is kind to her. She’s patient when Medea gets upset and frustrated to the point it all boils over and she’s breaking down over her death. She’s helpful as Medea comes to terms with being dead. She’s caring, and motherly, for all that she is quite literally cold.

You can only have so much when you’re a dead kid existing in Death’s own home rather than any afterlife, but Death gave her everything she could. Medea’s time with Death was a happy one, full of endless books for her to read and all the familial love she could ask for.

But dead kids don’t have friends, dead kids can’t go to college, dead kids can never know what it’s like to grow up.

When she was younger, Medea had known she likely would die young. Oh, she fought and she survived and she held onto hope with bloody knuckles and muddy hands and tear tracks down her face but oh did she hold onto that hope, that raw and dirty hope. And then she had stolen the right pair of tires and ended up in a position where holding onto hope came a little easier, a little less of a battle.

She had forgotten to hold it cautiously as she once had. She had let that hope seep into the cracks and fester until she was surprised at dying young, rather than resigned as she once might have been.

Death could see it was weighing her down. It wasn’t often that Death took a liking to the mortals who passed into her domain, but there was something about Medea that had drawn her in from the moment she had met the young girl.

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Medea didn’t know it, but this was not the first time she and Death had met. No, the first time Death met Medea was when the girl was only four years old. The girl had fallen ill, so very ill and feverish, and Catherine and Willis had been doing their best to nurse her back to health but no amount of cold cloths and stolen children’s medicine was keeping her fever down.

The little girl drew her first last breath that night.

When Death met her, she knew she had to send Medea back, to give her a chance at life. It’s painful every time a child enters her domain, but Death has learned to cope with it. But this child… Death grew attached in the single evening they spent together in her domain. She knew she would do anything for Medea.

The next morning Medea was alive again, her fever had faded, and there was one small, barely noticeable strand of white in her hair. A mark of Death.

Medea remembered none of their meeting that morning when she awoke, but from that day on Death had kept a careful watch on the girl from a distance. One day they’d meet again, Death knew, but until then she’d hold off on speaking to Medea.

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“You aren’t happy here.” Death comments one day.

Medea tries to deny it, “No, that’s not true. I’m happy spending time with you,”

“But you grow weary here, child,” Death says softly, “I can see it, your restlessness, your frustration at being dead. There is only so much one can do in my domain and my own home, I know. It is not where you would have liked to end up so soon. It’s alright, child, you don’t need to deny it.”

“I… I just…” Medea sighs, “I had hoped to live for longer. To not just be another Crime Alley kid who died young. I wanted… to be able to make a difference.”

“Mhm, yes, I know my child.” Death sits down beside her, brushing some hair out of her face, “I have a gift for you,”

“A gift?”

“Yes,” Death nods, “a gift of immortality… of a sort. You will still be able to die, but you will also be able to return to life each time. It is… not strictly within the rules, but it is not against them either for me to give you such a gift. Would you like that, sweetling? To return to life?”

“Yes, please!” Medea doesn’t hesitate with her answer, no pausing to think it through, she wants so badly to have a chance to do everything she can’t if she stays just a dead kid. In that moment she forgets something: dead people never really have anything left waiting for them in the land of the living. Not the ones who no one has purposely tried to get back.

“Now sweetling, a word of warning… you have been dead for quite a while now. I do not know how that will affect you returning to life this time.” Death cautions her, “Nor do I know where you’ll wake.”

“I… I understand. I want to return. Please. There is so much I can still do!”

“Then this gift shall be yours to keep,” Death smiles, “Don’t come back here for a visit too soon now, my child.”

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It’s dark and it’s cramped. Those are the first things Medea registers when she wakes. Next she realizes that she needs to breathe again, she’s alive once more to do so. That’s when she registers the fact that she cannot breathe where she is. Not well, anyways. There’s no air for her to breathe in. Faintly, very faintly, she can hear rain pouring from the sky. Wherever she is, it smells like wood, and dirt. All at once Medea realizes exactly where she must have woken up.

Her coffin.

She’s alive again but if she doesn’t get out of this coffin soon, she’ll die all over again before she can even see the sky another time. It’s this thought that sends her into a panic, and she begins to claw at the lid to her coffin. Her nails scrape against the wood and absently she curses Bruce for burying her in something so high quality.

Medea can feel the skin on her fingers tearing the more she beats and claws at the wood, warm blood running down her hands from her fingertips. This isn’t working. She drops one hand down, continuing to pound against the coffin with the other, to search for anything she can use to do more damage to the wood.

When she feels it, she silently thanks whoever decided she should be buried in such sturdy high heels. She knows such a thing isn’t typical, so she considers it good luck that she was buried with shoes at all.

It’s getting harder and harder and harder to breathe but finally, finally she gets the wooden lid of her coffin to break. Her hands are already torn to shreds so she pays no mind to the new cuts on them she gains from pulling herself up through the broken coffin, gives no attention to the dirt mixing with her wounds as she begins to dig herself up and out from under the ground. There is no time for her to pay attention to anything other than staying alive.

Vaguely, Medea is aware of when she grows closer to the surface, the dirt becoming more muddy as she goes, the worms she can feel wriggling against her skin as she claws her way up from the mud.

The first real breath she’s able to take sends relief flooding through her veins. She’s barely aware enough to pick the worms off her skin and wipe the mud from around her face, already halfway washed off from the rain.

Everything feels… hazy. She’s not quite aware enough to… process anything. She remembers everything but it’s like it’s all… hidden behind a fog in her mind. What did she come back for? What’s left for her here?

Her limbs feel heavy as she stands up from the mud, funeral dress dirtied beyond saving and tattered from where it caught on the jagged wood of her broken coffin. It feels like she’s thinking through honey and that she’s not all that there right now. Her mind feels like it’s… weighed down and covered in a haze of fog.

Where was she going? Up, up and out from the ground, but she’s out now, so where does she go? Home? Where is home now? She has several.

She’s made up her mind without knowing exactly what she’s decided, her limbs moving without her being fully aware of where they’re taking her. She isn’t worried. Distantly Medea thinks she should be, but everything just… isn’t registering. It’s as if she’s… back and intact but not… not quite present yet.

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She wanders the streets for a while after she leaves the cemetery. She’s present enough to follow her basic survival instincts of fighting to protect herself and eating so as to not starve, but beyond that she’s still not all back, the fog still lingers in her mind. Then one night there’s bright headlights and skidding tires and a forceful impact and she thinks she sees Death again briefly but then she’s waking up in a hospital as a Jane Doe who’s noted as being seemingly catatonic.

Sitting in a chair next to her hospital bed is a woman Medea recognizes, she remembers meeting this woman during her time as Robin. Still though, this recognition brings no outward signs of it, just a flicker of her eyes as she glances over, still not seemingly all that present.

Talia al Ghul reaches forward to brush back some hair from Medea’s eyes, “Hello, little one,” she greets, “It is a surprise to see you so… alive.”

Later, when the doctors clear her, Talia takes her from the hospital, and thus begins Medea’s time with the League of Assassins.

Chapter Text

Someone is… humming. There’s… a child leaning against her. It’s dark out—nighttime. She recognizes a moment later that she’s the one humming.

Not really thinking about it, not having what she’s obviously processing really register in her mind, too hazy, Medea brushes her hand through the child’s hair, sweeping it out of his closed eyes, finished the song she’s humming, the song that she knows at heart but that the reason why she does is just out of reach behind the fog in her mind, and pulls the blanket up over the boy a little higher, tucking him in securely for the night.

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There’s blood in her mouth… and it isn’t… isn’t her’s. There’s a spattering of it across her face. She’s holding something in her hands… a blade. She was training, she thinks. Or maybe not, maybe she was fighting to survive. Both?

She hears her name and turns towards where it came from. Talia is there, looking… proud. Ra’s is there too… looking… less than pleased. It was both, then… Talia wants her trained and fully present once more, and Ra’s must want her… gone

The blood still in her mouth has an awful tang to it. The loudest noise she’s aware of right now is her own heart beating.

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She aches all over, there’s an arrow stuck in her chest, another in her arm, and yet another in her thigh, and the boy she has spent so much time looking after is safe. He is safe. That is… all that matters.

It was an ambush. An act of… League traitors. Medea did as Talia instructed, she protected Talia’s son.

Her scimitar has blood on it… she took out the immediate threat. She did her job. Protect him, keep him safe. That’s her job. The child is to be her priority. And he was, he is.

The ambush ends and only then does she sink to the ground, exhaustion bone deep and wounds leaking far more blood than is survivable unless she were to get attention straight away. Her eyes close.

She sees Death again before they open once more.

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There’s a brush running through her hair. People in her room are talking to each other.

“…from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood. Stop up th’ access and passage to remorse, that no come— comp— comun—” A young voice stumbles over a word from… from something Medea knows she recognizes… it’s steeped in the fog of her mind right now but she knows that she knows those words, knows what they’re from…

“Compunctious, habibi,” Talia says, her voice coming from right behind Medea… she’s the one brushing her hair then…

“—compunctious visitings of nature shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between th’ effect and it.”

“Good job, Damian,” Medea can practically hear the smile in Talia’s voice… Damian, the boy's name is Damian, she’ll need to… remember that this time… “Your ability to read Shakespeare is coming along wonderfully. I am so proud of you, abni. Now, how about you finish the scene?”

Fingers run through her hair now, twisting it into a braid, and everything gets especially hazy once again as Damian continues to read.

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She’s in the gardens with Damian, and he is holding her hand as they walk through the rows of flowers and hedges.

Things in her mind are… starting to get clearer, she thinks… slowly. So slowly. But… progress anyways…

Medea is humming a song she’s heard before and this time it actually registers where she knows it from… sort of. She thinks… she thinks her mom used to play it a lot…

And then Medea did something she hasn’t done in a while, and she sings. Not much, not much at all, only a couple words from the song before she goes back to merely humming it. But they are the first words that she has spoken since she crawled out of her grave.

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There is an argument going on.

“—it must be done, Talia.”

“Father, Medea is getting better. Surely you cannot think it is wise to get rid of her now.”

“It has been almost three months, and the girl is hardly any more aware than when you found her. It is a waste of resources to continue trying to care for her as you have been. I have indulged it so far, but it comes to an end now. Either she is out of this catatonic state of hers by the end of the week, or she is out of the League one way or another. Am I understood?”

“…Of course, father. I understand perfectly well.”

Medea hears footsteps quickly growing faint, Ra’s walking away and leaving the room. And then footsteps approaching, Talia moving towards her.

“I shall not let him harm you, habibti. We will find a way to bring you out of your catatonia. Now come, Damian has been asking to see his sister.”

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“Quickly Medea, come follow me,” Talia says quietly.

It is still nighttime, and Medea wonders what is happening. Why is Talia having her go somewhere at this hour? Her wondering, however, does not stop her from following Talia.

Talia brings her to a pool of glowing green water.

“This was only ever meant to be a last resort, but I fear we have reached that point,” Talia sighs, “I can’t say for sure what this will do to you, but if all is well, you will be pulled from your catatonia.”

With that, Talia leads her to the edge of the pit, and pushes her over into the Lazarus waters below.

Chapter Text

Medea wakes up—really wakes up, snapping out of her catatonia—to a similar sensation as the one she woke up to in her grave. A lack of oxygen as she slowly starts to suffocate.

This time, though, there is no wooden coffin lid to claw at and destroy her nails upon, no mud to dig through, no worms to pick from her skin. There is still water on her face though, like the rain but not… it is not falling from the sky but rather she is entirely submerged in it.

She is drowning in it.

Medea begins to move, kicking up towards the surface, arms pulling her afloat, all while the water surrounds her and very nearly invades her lungs entirely. It is a mad rush of half panic as she swims up to where she can finally breathe again. She has no idea how far down she is, nor what exactly will await her at the surface.

She remembers bits and pieces from her time spent catatonic… will Talia be waiting for her when she makes her way up from below the surface? Will Damian be there?

…will Ra’s? And what will he think of this all?

Finally, finally, she breaks through the surface of the water, chest heaving as she gasps for air, spluttering as she coughs up water. She can hear her heart pounding, her pulse rushing, her head spinning. And through it all she hears a voice… several, actually.

She hears Talia and her comforting “Breathe, Medea, you can breathe. That’s it, deep breaths.”

She hears Ra’s and his annoyance as he talks “I had no idea you would go to such lengths for the girl. You’ve grown attached, Talia.”

And she hears a voice she doesn’t recognize. It sounds… like a man’s voice, maybe? She can’t quite hear what it’s saying, but it’s… driving her mad, just a little.

“What the fuck?!” She yells, tears welling up in her eyes from the lack of oxygen until now, and definitely not anything else like confusion or anxiety… “What the hell was that!!”

“That was a Lazarus Pit. It was my last resort to heal your mind, and it has done its job and woken you from your catatonic state. Now Medea, there is something you must know.” Talia tells her calmly.

“…what?” Medea croaks out.

“You remain unavegened. But it will not be that way for long, little one. Now come along, I have someone for you to meet properly now that you are no longer catatonic.”

Damian. The thought of the young boy calms her rushing thoughts, as well as the voice she’s heard since the pit.

“Ok…” Medea whispers, and Talia helps her off the ground. Medea doesn’t hesitate to follow her away from the pit.

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“Abni,” Talia says to Damian, fetching him from his room as Medea waits outside, “I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it, ummi?”

“Your ukhti is better now. Her mind is healed. Go say hi, she is just outside.”

“Really?” Damian asks excitedly, getting up to go rushing out of his room, but he stops just before the door, “…will she remember me? Her mind is healed now, but ummi, will she remember anything from when it wasn’t?”

“Oh Damian, I cannot say for sure, you will have to ask her.”

“I don’t want ukhti to have forgotten me,” he frets.

“And I doubt she has. She was confused when her mind was healed, but she did not seem confused when you were mentioned. Go on now, go see for yourself.” Talia says.

With that, Damian exits his room, going out to the hall where Medea is waiting.

“Hello ukhti,” he greets, nervous she will have forgotten him but hiding it extremely well.

Medea crouches down to be on eye level with Damian, “Hi there habibi.”

“You… remember me, right ukhti?”

“…not everything. But I remember enough. I remember that you are my brother now, right Damian?”

“Yes!” Damian nods, “That’s right.”

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“Why?” Medea asks later, back in her own room, when it’s just her and Talia.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Why any of this? Why heal my mind? Why introduce me to Damian, make me his family? Why defy Ra’s? I doubt he was thrilled you threw me into the Lazarus Pit.” Medea scoffs. “So… why the fuck have you gone through all this trouble for me?”

“The loss of a daughter, of any child, is hard. When I found you alive, I thought of healing you and then returning you to your father as… a favor. But while you were in my care, I must admit I rather foolishly have gotten attached to you. I have always wanted a daughter, and even catatonic you were an exemplary older sister to my son.” Talia smiles sadly, “I think, had my own daughter lived, she’d have grown up to be a lot like you: willful and bold… and kind. A good older sister.”

“…you had a daughter? I… didn’t know that.”

“She only lived a few weeks. Her name was Athanasia.”

“So that’s why then,” Medea says matter-of-factly, “You took me in in the first place to be some sort of gift to Bruce, and then you got attached because I seemed like the perfect replacement for the daughter you never got to see grow up.” Medea doesn’t even sound upset or frustrated, she doesn’t sound as if she’s trying to be mean. She only sounds resigned to being a… placeholder.

“Medea Peyton Todd-Wayne.” Talia says sharply, “I may have begun to see you as a daughter of my own in the time you have spent in my care, but do not dare to presume it is so I can replace my dear Athanasia. It is an insult for you to think so, to her and to me. To you, as well. You are not a replacement, you never could replace her, and I would never try to replace her.”

“I—” Medea sighs, “I’m… sorry. I didn’t think…” she trails off, not quite sure what to say in response.

“You are confused about why you are here and trying to figure it out. It is understandable you drew a conclusion from what little information you had, as insulting and incorrect as that conclusion was. Just never draw such a conclusion again.” Talia states. “You’re a smart girl, Medea. Why did you not assume perhaps I grew attached to you because of your own merits, as that is what happened?”

“When I was Robin, B always… compared me to Dick. I didn’t act quite the same as he did when he was Robin, I didn’t help solve a case the same way he would’ve, I was always just different enough to be worth commenting on. And outside of Robin too. It happened less, but there were times he’d comment on how I didn’t like doing the same things Dick liked at my age. I don’t think B meant anything by it, but when you’re always compared… it just started to feel like he was disappointed I wasn’t a more similar replacement for his son.”

During her time with Death, Medea had a lot of time on her hands to think about the past. Truly, she doesn’t believe it was intentional on Bruce’s part. But that doesn’t change the way it felt to her at the time. She sees now it was likely only the musings of a father missing his son, given the shaky relationship between B and Dick at the time, and the communication issues galore they’ve got between them. At the time, though, it stung. She didn’t realize how much she had held onto that ache, to have now assumed Talia only saw her as a replacement daughter.

It was a foolish notion. Things like that are surely beneath a woman—a mother like Talia al Ghul, who loves her children fiercely and would never dream of allowing or seeking anyone to replace any child of hers, but Medea had no way of knowing that, not until now.

“So you presumed I would make you feel similarly like a replacement.” Talia comments, “I see… little one, know this now, I would never seek to replace any child of mine, even the one no longer… with me. I did not have the time with her to get to know who Athanasia would have been, but I loved my daughter nonetheless and I would never replace her. I have grown attached to you for who you have shown to be, not as someone who could act as a replacement for her.”

“Oh. Ok. I— I believe you,” Medea says, and she finds that strangely enough she means it. She really does believe that Talia likes her for her, not for who she could be or who she could step in for.

There’s something that’s been bothering her though. Not about this conversation, but something that she was told earlier tonight, “…Hey Talia?”

“Yes?”

“You said I remained unavenged. What’d you mean by that?”

“Are you certain you would like to know right now?” Talia asks. “If I am going to tell you, I need you to be certain now is the time you’d like to know.”

…is she certain? There isn’t very much she needs someone to avenge her for… only one major thing comes to mind, “…yes, I’m certain.” She has to know.

“Very well,” Talia nods, “wait here a moment. I need to go collect something to show you.”

And so Medea waits, alone, nervously. During this time, that voice that she heard but didn’t recognize right after the pit quickly makes a reappearance. She realizes then that she was hearing the voice in her own head.

“Did you really need to ask? You already know what it will be—no one cared enough to take out your murderer.” The voice has a taunting tone to it, sounding as if it’s gleeful to be causing her misery.

“It could be something else,” she murmurs, but she knows the chance of being anything other than news that the Joker is alive is slim. Very slim.

“You don’t really believe that,” the voice says, “C’mon, doesn’t it make you mad that no one cares about you? They buried you but not the monster who took you away! Poor little Medea, gone but not forgotten, your murderer a walking reminder of what happened to ya, I’m sure.”

“Shut. Up.” Medea frowns.

“You could do something about it y’know… could go confront them… ask them why!” The voice continues, “Oh won’t that be a fun time, seeing what they have to say!”

Talia walks back in holding a newspaper before Medea can respond to the voice in her head. Maybe she can figure out how to respond to it in her head too, would something like that work? …later, she’ll figure it out later. Talia is about to show her exactly what she meant by ‘unavenged,’ and that’s more important right now than some voice in her head clearly trying to drive her mad…

She’s handed the newspaper without a word spoken about just what she’s going to see when she reads it.

‘Batman and Robin Save the Day: Joker Back in Arkham!’ the headline reads.

The Joker, her murderer, really is still alive, but more than that… “He got another Robin?!”

“Hah! Look at that kiddo, you’ve been replaced!”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Talia confirms.

Medea’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, she can feel her heart racing, and unbeknownst to Medea herself her eyes are glowing a bright Lazarus green, “I fucking died as Robin, and not only does he leave that bitchass clown alive, he goes and gets another Robin?! After what happened to me he still put another kid in that damn costume! …how long? How long has there been a new Robin?”

“Oh yes, just how long did it take for you to be replaced!!” Medea is getting really sick of the voice in her head, give it long enough and it just may drive her insane if she doesn’t figure out who or what the hell is speaking to her.

“Three months,” Talia tells her.

“Three months,” Medea repeats, laughing just a little hysterically. “Three. Months. It took him three months before he started letting another kid prance around in the role that got me killed! And he didn’t even do anything to make sure that that monster can’t kill this Robin too!”

“Ouch kiddo, that’s gotta sting! Daddy went and got a new and improved Robin in hardly any time at all! Doesn’t that make you want to… I don’t know, break something? His bones, maybe? C’mon kiddo, it’ll be a hell of a homecoming!”

“It’s not fair!” Medea hiccups, “It’s— it’s not fair!!” and it really, really isn’t fair, and maybe the voice in her head has a point, maybe it really is making her bad, because she’s getting really frustrated and needs an outlet and how fucking could Bruce do this—

“No, I know it’s not fair,” Talia says, “But do you remember what else I told you earlier, Medea?”

“Uhm…”

“I told you that you would not remain unavenged for long. Remember that?”

“I… yes. I remember.” Her thoughts are starting to… not calm, necessarily, but at least become less of a whirlwind. She’s still endlessly frustrated, but it’s as if Talia just threw her a lifeline to keep her from drowning in that anger and upset.

“Well I am a woman of my word. That monster will not be around for much longer, Medea. There is nothing I can do to help you ease the hurt of seeing another in the role you held previously, though. That you must ease on your own.”

“You could get rid of the new kid, I mean, clearly the Bat lets a dead Robin’s murderer get off easy, so what’s the harm eh?”

‘No’. Medea thinks—time to try out if thinking really hard about speaking to the voice will work to let her speak to it in her head. ‘No more dead Robins. And I will never hurt a kid.’

“Not even your replacement?”

‘No more dead Robins’ Medea thinks firmly. There’s things she came to terms with in her time with Death, and one of those things is that there was always going to be a chance that another kid would take up the mantle of Robin.

She never thought it would be so soon after her death. Never thought it would be while the Joker was still alive to potentially kill another Robin. But she did come to terms with the fact that by becoming the second Robin, she turned Robin into a legacy, and it probably wouldn’t end at her.

So no, she’s not mad at there being a new Robin… well, she’s not mad at the new Robin… she is mad about how quickly B got a new Robin after her death.

“Joker will be gone soon?” She asks Talia hopefully, “Promise?”

“I promise.” Talia affirms. “Now, you’ve had quite a long day. Rest, Medea.”

“Ok… hey Talia?”

“Yes?” Talia stops in the doorway just before she’s about to leave.

“What uh… what are the side effects to the Lazarus pit?” Am I supposed to be hearing a voice, she doesn’t add, but she wants to know.

“There is known to be a temporary madness, but seeing as those who use the pit are not typically willing to give much information about it, I cannot tell you why, or much more than that.”

“Okay. That… okay, I can deal with that. And hey… thank you, Talia. For caring for me. For healing my mind… even if it was with the pit…” Medea says sincerely. She truly is grateful to Talia for caring for her, for healing her. It’s nice to have her mind back and out of the haze.

And as for the temporary madness… she has a guess as to what causes it. ‘You’re from the Lazarus pit, aren’t you? Here to drive me mad, then?’ She thinks to the voice in her head.

“Clever girl,” and the voice doesn’t add anything more.

“You’re welcome shabah saghir.”

Chapter Text

The voice doesn’t speak with Medea for a while. Oh it speaks to her, that’s for sure, but not with her. It doesn’t answer any of her questions, not since the night she found out it’s from the pit and it’s here to drive her mad. It only taunts her, driving her further into some type of madness as the days pass by after her unplanned bath in the Lazarus Pit.

There’s only two people that the voice stays quiet around, calming the madness. Damian and Talia. Outside of the time she spends with those two, Medea becomes quicker to anger, any plans she makes are far more full of bloody dramatics than she’d normally ever make them.

Any bitterness of hers is easier than ever to turn to rage. All of her hurt, upset, and frustration get fueled into becoming biting words, rash actions, a little extra aggression during her training. She tends to be brutal and efficient about practically everything she does, and the madness that is plaguing her makes that a scary notion for anyone who must deal with her during the days immediately in the aftermath of her submergence in the pit.

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It all boils over a little more than a week after she came out of the pit. The voice in her head continues its taunts and instigating words, only today it tried adding something new.

“You know… it isn’t a dead Robin if he’s not really a Robin. He’s just a replacement, a… cuckoo trying to invade the nest. Just another nest parasite that you could easily remove. You could take back your place as a real Robin if you just take him out of the picture.”

Medea pauses from where she’s sitting at the desk in her room, reading up on botanical atrocities, as the book calls them, “…you… might be right about that.”

“Of course I’m right, little lass,” the voice says, “Now what are you going to do about it, hm? I’d start planning if I were you. You’ll have a lot of work to do to get rid of that little cuckoo bird.”

“It can’t be in Gotham. He needs to be away from Batman if I’m going to get away with it.” Medea’s eyes are glowing brightly with the most vile shade of Lazarus green.

“Of course,” the voice encourages, “A warehouse in a different country, perhaps? If he wants to be a Robin so badly he can die like one. What weapon will you use?”

“Something to make it quick. A gun should do.” Medea says.

“That’s rather nice of you. Wouldn’t you rather he suffer? He waltzed right in and stole your place, don’t just end his life— steal his life, slowly.”

“Maybe you’re right… I could—”

Just then, the door to her room opens, and Damian walks in, “Dea, do you have the next book in the series to lend me? I just finished the first one.”

All at once the voice goes quiet at Damian’s presence, the madness calming, and the glow of Medea’s eyes dims into nothingness. It hits her, then, just what she was in the middle of planning, and she feels sick.

Was she really just planning to— to murder Tim? A kid, a Robin? Was she really considering… torturing him to death…

How could she have— that voice— what was she thinking—

She knows she would never want to hurt a kid. So why the fuck did she start planning to hurt Tim? It doesn’t make sense. Medea is confused, and— and horrified at herself. Tim is two years younger than her, he’s only thirteen, and she wanted to— to see him dead at her own hands.

“Ukhti, are you well?” Damian asks, knocking her out of her spiral. She must’ve been quiet for far too long, if Damian got worried enough to ask after her wellness.

“I…” she doesn’t want to lie to him, she tries her best to never lie to her little brother if she doesn’t absolutely have to, “…I will be. I just… realized something. I think I need to be alone for the rest of the day. But here, I do have the next book, let me go— let me grab it for you, Dames.”

The pit madness is no joke. She didn’t realize just how much influence that voice in her head would really have on her. Briefly, as she goes about grabbing that book for Damian off of her shelf, she wonders if dying would rid the voice from her head. She hasn’t died again yet in the short while it’s been since she came out of the pit. Maybe… maybe if she took herself out, it would act as a… reset of a sort, to get the pit madness out of her system and the voice out of her head. There’s only one way to find out…

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“Who are you?” She asks the voice later that night, after realizing it was still there even after dying once again. What will it take to get this voice, this madness, to leave her be? If even taking her own life, visiting Death, didn’t rid it from her head, then what will?

Talia said it was a temporary madness that afflicted everyone else who used the Lazarus Pit. She didn’t give a time frame though… maybe Medea will just have to suffer with this a little longer. It has only been just over a week…

But on the other hand, she really doesn’t want to find out how much more this madness will twist her mind if things stay as they are. She was in the midst of planning to kill a kid, to cause there to be another dead Robin… just thinking of it makes her feel sick all over again.

The voice barks out a laugh, “You’re the first person in a long while to ask me that, little lass. Most don’t even think to speak to me! A shame, really. I’ve been so very lacking for any interesting conversations.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Medea rolls her eyes.

“I am Lazarus.”

“Like… the biblical Lazarus?”

“Oh gods no, I’m not and have never been a human like that lad was. How boring!”

“So then…” Medea thinks over what little she knows so far, “…do the Lazarus Pits get their name from you, or did you get your name from them?”

“Oh you really are a clever little lass!” Lazarus laughs, “The pits get their name from me, as I have resided in them from the start.”

So, Lazarus is not a human, he’s been around for as long as the pits have… maybe longer, and he clearly has influence over the minds of any who’ve bathed in the pits…

“Are you what gives the pits their powers, then?”

“I’ll answer that if you answer a question of my own: how’s it feel knowing your dad is content letting your murderer run around like usual?”

Medea can feel Lazarus’ own desire for anger, for violence, for bloodshed. She can feel it as if it’s seeping into her very veins.

But the anger she feels at the thought of that is purely her own, “Painful. It feels painful. Upsetting, too.”

“Makes you want revenge, doesn’t it? To go and ask why?”

“…I just wish I was enough for him to have finally done something about that clown. He didn’t even have to kill that monster himself, he— he could’ve handed it to the courts. To the people to deal with. It would be highly irregular but I doubt there’s a person in Gotham who would want that thing alive.

Even without a death penalty, any sentence at all that isn’t Arkham would be a death sentence. Get that monster behind real prison bars and soon enough he’d be found dead in his cell. But B couldn’t even… couldn’t even recommend he finally be brought to trial… Joker claims insanity and gets away with everything because of it. Why the fuck won’t B ever make him pay for any of his crimes?!”

The longer she thinks about it the angrier she gets all on her own accord, but she can feel Lazarus’ glee at her rage.

“Well, Talia will handle that monster for you, but what about all the other monsters that haunt your precious Gotham city? All the monsters that haunt people all over the world? You could take care of them. You’re right, I do give the pits their powers. I am the very spirit of the pits, after all. I could enhance you, give you some power too.”

“What do you get out of it?” Medea asks, “You don’t seem like the type of spirit who would give out power for free.”

“I get entertainment.” Lazarus answers easily, “You are already the most interesting person who I’ve ever had the pleasure of being in the mind of. I get so bored y’know. I have to drive them mad to make them even the slightest bit interesting, but it’s so tiring to influence them all the time that eventually I leave them be.”

“And that’s when their supposed madness disappears, then, I assume.”

“Exactly! See I told you you were clever. You, however, don’t even need my influence to catch my attention! You’re passionate and I can already tell you have a flair for the dramatics. I’m sticking around either way, so either you can benefit or you can learn to deal with me.”

“So I keep things interesting and you’ll keep me… what’d you call it? Enhanced with your power?”

“Precisely!”

“And you’ll stop driving me into madness like you’ve been doing?”

“Sure, sure,” Lazarus says dismissively, “For the most part, at least.”

“Lazarus,” Medea says exasperatedly.

“I’m kidding! …mostly.” Lazarus laughs.

After a moment of silence, Medea speaks up with a question, “Hey Lazarus?”

“Yes, little lass?”

“If I’m interesting enough without the madness… why’d you influence me like that anyways? And why’d you try to get me to break one of my firmest rules?”

“Well, I was… testing your limits, let's say. You held incredibly strong on your boundaries, far more than all the others I’ve had the chance of influencing.”

“No more of that.” Medea tells him, “If you ever try to ‘test my limits’ again, I swear that I will spend the rest of my life trying to find a way to destroy the pits, and you as well. And given Death’s gift to me, I’ll have a lot of fucking time on my hands to find a way. I don’t—won’t—hurt or kill kids, and there’ll be no more dead Robins if I can help it.”

“Geez, alright, I hear ya loud and clear little lass. No more limit-testing.” Lazarus concedes.

“Ok… then I think we have an agreement.” Medea says. “I stay interesting—which according to you, I do that already by just being me—so that you get your entertainment after, what, centuries of boredom? And you give me pit enhancements without the madness.”

“Hmm, yes, I believe that’s a fine agreement.” Lazarus would surely be nodding if he were more than just a voice in her head, “I cannot wait to see what entertainment you’ll provide me! Oh it will be wonderful, I’m sure.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Without the full on madness clouding her mind, Medea is a lot more precise in all her training. She is brutally efficient, and it’s all the worse for any sparring opponents of hers, seeing as without the madness she’s able to be all the more efficient in fact. Before, they’d have the madness as a buffer to make her sloppy in her movements if only they can anger her.

Now, though, there is no madness to trigger to make her slip up. She had already been progressing remarkably well with all the training thrown at her, but now she’s progressing even quicker, and all with a terrifying precision.

And with Lazarus actively helping her now, she’s able to progress even further, learning new skills and techniques in almost no time at all thanks to how Lazarus’ enhancements allow her to push her limits a little further—ah, not the limits she has on what she will and won’t do, to clarify, but her physical limits. Lazarus helps her to improve in her training quicker than she’d’ve been able to without his help, he doesn’t try to cross any boundaries she’s set.

About a week after she came to her agreement with Lazarus, Talia comes to find Medea after she’s finished her training for the day.

She finds her in her room, sitting at her vanity desk and braiding her hair, twisting together the strands of black and white. Medea’s knuckles are raw and bloody from her training today, and her body is littered with small cuts and bruises.

“I see that you’ve managed to get a handle on the pit madness quite well. It has faded from you remarkably quickly, little one.” Talia comments.

“Yeah, well, it must be all the access to sparring partners and training equipment,” Medea tells her, not quite ready to reveal Lazarus’ existence and their agreement to Talia. She’ll tell her the truth eventually, but not yet, “It makes for a great way to burn off the madness quickly. Really takes the rage out of you if you get to spend hours at a time hitting things with different types of weapons and fighting styles,” she snorts, “Did you need something, Tals?”

“Damian would like for you to go and tell him a story before bed,” Talia says, “But also, I thought that you may want to see this,” she sets a newspaper down next to Medea, on her vanity, “Damian will be in his room waiting for you whenever you are ready to tell him a story. I hope you’ll find some amount of comfort in the contents of that newspaper,” and with that, Talia turns and walks away, leaving Medea’s room.

Finishing her braid, Medea picks up the newspaper—one from Gotham, she notes—and is immediately greeted by the glaring headline of ‘Joker Found Dead in Arkham!’

It’s clear to Medea from the details provided in the paper that this was handled personally by Talia, and that she didn’t just instruct some of the assassins in her command to go and kill the Joker.

Knowing that monster can never harm her—never harm anyone—ever again is a relief, and Medea already feels as if she can breathe a little easier knowing she won’t have to face her murderer ever again. It doesn’t fix everything, of course. Nothing will ever be able to fix the memories she has of her death, the fear and pain of it, the lasting impacts it made upon her. But Talia just made sure that the Joker can’t ever cause her pain again. She has a feeling she’ll be able to sleep a little more peacefully now, knowing he’s gone—knowing that that monster is finally gone for good.

She’ll have to do something nice to give Talia her thanks. But for now, she has a story to go and tell.

Medea folds up the newspaper and puts it in a drawer, the same drawer that holds the newspaper from which she learned of Tim’s existence as Robin and the Joker’s continued status as alive at the time. Then she leaves her room and walks the short distance to Damian’s.

“Hey, tayir saghir, I hear you want a story before bed?”

“That’s correct,” Damian nods.

“Alright then, what story would you like to hear?” Medea asks.

“Can it be one about… your time as Robin?”

Medea smiles softly, “Sure, Dames, it can be about my time as Robin. Let’s see now… actually, how about I tell you the story of when I first met our father? I don’t believe I’ve told you that one yet. It isn’t quite from my time as Robin just yet, though.”

“You haven’t,” Damian confirms, “and yes, please, I’d like to hear it.”

“Okay, so, it happened while I was on the streets, after my mama, Catherine, and my dad, Willis, both passed away. Now see, I really needed money, and there were a few different ways I could’ve gotten it, but that time I chose to go for stealing tires to sell. So I’m going ‘round the Alley and looking for cars that’ve got nice tires on them when I come across the Batmobile. I see that sitting there, no Batman in sight, and I knew damn well those tires would sell for a grand fucking amount—don’t repeat that word, you don’t need to be saying fuck.”

“Ukhti, did you steal father’s tires?” Damian asks eagerly, though trying not to be obvious about his clear interest in the story.

“I’m getting there, calm down,” Medea laughs, “Yes, I stole the tires off the Batmobile. It was hell figuring out their security system, but once I got around it on the first tire, getting the rest off was as easy as if it were any other tire. I had all four of ‘em off by the time B showed up. I had almost gotten away without him ever seeing me, just a minute longer and he wouldn’t’a known I was there.”

“But…” Damian prompts impatiently.

“But he did catch me as I was rolling that last tire away to where I was stashing them. He asked if I had stolen his tires, which I very clearly had, but I was bold and figured I was already caught but there’s no need to give up that easily, so I told him no sir I didn’t steal any tires of his. He asked me what was up with the tire I was rolling away, so I told him I just found it lying next to the Batmobile already, so finders keepers rules were in play. Then he asked what the tire iron I was holding was for… and I saw my opportunity to try and get away. I whacked B right in the knees with the tire iron and I took off running.”

“No!” Damian gasps disbelievingly, “You really hit father when you first met him?”

“Oh yes I did,” Medea nods proudly, “but he caught up with me once he got over the shock, and from there he bought me some food and then just… kinda kidnapped me off the streets to take me home and legally adopt me. Now, that’s that for tonight’s story. Go to bed now, Dames. Growing boys need their rest.”

“Okay,” Damian sighs exaggeratedly, “Goodnight, Dea.”

“Goodnight, tayir saghir.”

Chapter Text

“No.”

“But—”

“I said no.”

“That’s not fair,” Damian whines.

“Dames, let me pass on some wise words: life ain’t fair.” Medea rolls her eyes. “You cannot keep the jaguar here.”

“But I—”

“No keeping the jaguar in here.” Medea says firmly. “However, if you were to convince ummi that you should be gifted an animal sanctuary of some sort, perhaps the jaguar could stay there. If you can convince her.”

“…I must go speak with ummi immediately,” Damian says, and then he goes running off, still holding the jaguar cub he had already named Yvette.

“Oh I’m sure Talia will just love that.” Lazarus snickers.

“Well that’s no longer my problem,” Medea grins, “though I expect there will be a private, state of the art animal sanctuary ready for him by the end of the week.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

It’s the end of February, just about a week or so after Talia killed Joker for her, and Medea has kept very busy. Taking Damian out for the day and coming back with a jaguar cub was just one of many things that she kept busy with that week.

She also kept busy with her training, learning techniques from those in the League. Medea kept up with her education as well, as untraditional as it now is, what with being legally dead and… homeschooled, she’ll call it. This is home to her, now, she supposes, so it isn’t that far off to call this homeschooling. Though it’s more the people who make it home for her than the place, Talia and Damian are who make her feel as if she’s at home here.

Death and Lazarus as well, though seeing as one is wherever she’d like to be at any given moment—mostly not often amongst the living though—and the other is in Medea’s head, she can’t exactly say they make this place specifically feel like home to her.

It’s all rather strange, she supposes, but Medea has always been able to adapt fairly quickly, so she doesn’t linger on how crazy this whole situation truly is. Instead, she just goes with it, and she finds herself being quite happy with it all.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“Yvette needs a friend,” is the very first thing Damian says to her when he barges into her room as she’s reading.

They’re a couple days into March now, and as Medea has suspected, Yvette got to stay and Damian got an animal sanctuary.

Medea makes him wait until she finishes the page she’s on before she slides her bookmark into place and sets her book aside, “Does she now?”

“Yes,” Damian nods, “and now that we have the animal sanctuary there is no reason to prevent me from acquiring a friend for Yvette.”

“And you are bringing this up to me and not ummi because…?”

“Because ummi is busy right now,” Damian avoids meeting her eyes.

“Tals doesn’t know, does she?” Medea raises an eyebrow.

“…not currently.”

“Alright,” Medea stands up, “let's go get Yvette a friend. Another jaguar cub?”

“I believe that would be ideal. Thank you, ukhti.”

“Don’t thank me yet, you’re the one who gets to tell ummi all about Yvette’s new friend.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“Last I had checked we only had one jaguar cub,” Talia says in lieu of a greeting, “so why are there now two?”

“I see you’ve met Nahla,” Medea doesn’t look up from where she’s cleaning off her blade, “I believe Damian can tell you more about her.”

“No more jaguars, please.” Talia sighs.

“No more jaguars,” Medea agrees.

Damian ends up with a pet python—that he names William Snakespeare—by the end of the week, and even Medea isn’t actually sure where he came from. But hey, it’s not another jaguar, at least.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Medea, for all that she is brutally efficient and nearly a prodigy when it comes to training, is still only training and therefore is still occasionally susceptible to making a mistake. Her biggest one comes from her balance.

You see, Medea is taller than she was before the pit, and that’s thrown her off somewhat. She’s adjusting quickly, but, well, it’s a pretty big change in height.

At 14, before she died, Medea had been aware she likely wouldn’t grow much taller. The malnutrition she experienced had stunted her, but either way that would be just about the age she’d stop growing anyway. So, she had accepted that she’d just be about 5’3” for the rest of her life.

Medea came out of her grave 15 years old and still 5’3”. And then she came out of the pit, still 15, but most definitely not 5’3”.

Being 6’ tall is a big difference, and a big adjustment too. So yes, her balance has been a bit off at times, to say the least.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“Oh that little brat,” Medea mutters, looking for one of her favorite hair pieces Talia had gifted her that is now very clearly missing from her vanity where she kept it.

“What’d the kid do now?” Lazarus asks.

“Took my hairpin. Y’know, the silver one that looks like a sword,” Medea sighs.

“Oh yeesh,” Lazarus says, “What’s he want with that anyways?”

“Eh, I accidentally spilled his paint water on him yesterday. He’s probably holding my hairpin hostage until he gets ‘reparations’.”

“What kind of reparations do you need to give him for spilling water on him?” Lazarus laughs.

“Not sure. New paint set, maybe? It did look like he was getting low. But he damn better give that hairpin back or I’m gonna tell ummi about the broken vase incident.”

“You should push him into a river instead,”

“Calm down, we’re not at that point… yet.”

She gets her hairpin back by the end of the day, turns out Damian did want new paints after all.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Medea should have seen this coming. Things were going so well to the point where it was suspicious given who and where they all are.

The next attempt on Damian’s life came in the middle of March while she and Damian were returning from playing with Yvette and Nahla at the animal sanctuary (William Snakespeare got to stay in Damian’s room rather than the sanctuary).

For an attempt at killing her little brother, you’d think they’d’ve sent more men considering how it’s well known Damian is always well protected. Medea isn’t complaining about their stupidity though, not when it works in her favor.

Medea gives them hell, and a lot of broken bones. Some she even kills, and there’s a part of her that feels awful about it. She knows Bruce’s hard line on killing, knows she herself doesn’t like taking lives without very good reason, but unlike Bruce she isn’t going to dance around it when it matters. She’ll take out who she has to in order to protect others, in order to make things safer, better. She accepted that she would never be able to follow Bruce’s path of no killing the moment she had first protected Damian from another attempt on his life back when she was catatonic and had taken lives to do so. Even with her mind hazy, she had accepted that much. So ultimately, she doesn’t feel too awful about the lives that she’s taking now.

She takes out all the men, they don’t get close enough to Damian to even scratch him, let alone kill him, though Medea herself ended up with several cuts from their blades.

Turns out those cuts were far more worrying than they appeared to be. Poisoned blades tend to do that.

‘Oh fuck,’ Medea thinks.

“Poison on the blades?” Lazarus asks.

‘Poison on the blades.’ Medea confirms.

“Lethal or paralytic?”

‘Feels like it’s lethal, I’d assume a paralytic would’ve kicked in by now,’

“What are you going to do?”

‘I don’t want Damian seeing me die if he doesn’t have to. I’m going to get him home before the poison kicks in and then just… wait to come back,’ Medea explains.

“And if it’s fast acting and you die before you get him home?” Lazarus asks.

Medea ignores that, “C’mon Dames, they’re all gone now, let’s get you home.”

They don’t make it very far before Medea is feeling dizzy, her heart rate changing and breaths coming more difficult.

“Ukhti are you well?” Damian asks once he sees her slowing down.

“I’m… fine…” Medea tries to smile, but in an act of immediate contradiction, she starts to cough, blood coming up when she does.

“No you aren’t. Dea, what happened?”

“It’s just a small bit of poison Dames, that’s all…” Medea coughs again, more blood coming with it.

And then she collapses to the ground.

“Dea!”

“I’m… I’m alright,” Medea’s breathing is ragged now, “Go call… for ummi to come and—” she coughs some more, too much blood coming with it, “—and take you home. Okay? I’ll… join you… later…”

It’s getting harder to stay awake, Lazarus was right, it’s fast acting. Medea knows she won’t be getting Damian home, but if she can just stay awake until he calls Talia and she arrives—

She doesn’t want her brother to have to see her die. Even though she’ll be back, she doesn’t want to put Damian through that.

When Damian doesn’t make a move to call Talia, she instructs him again, “Akhi, call her.”

“But—” Damian cuts himself off, looking at her worriedly.

“It’ll be alright…” she can feel her life slipping away, her breathing getting shallower, more difficult.

“Ok… I’ll call her.”

Her eyes start to close and she can feel Damian kneeling next to her, holding her hand, “Dames… close your eyes… please… until I—” she breaks into a short coughing fit, “—‘til I come back.”

She waits until his eyes are closed to finally allow her own to close all the way. This time, Medea dies with a smile on her face, knowing that her brother is unharmed.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“Hi, sweetling, welcome home.”

“Hi, Death.”

“The poison was quick to burn through your system. Whenever you return, my child, the poison will be all gone from you. You needn’t wait if you don’t wish to.” Death tells her.

“I think I will wait, just for a little bit. I’ve missed you, you should visit me more when I am alive.” Medea says.

“Ah you know I am quite busy, Medea. But very well, I shall try and visit with you more often without you needing to show up in my domain for it.” Death smiles at her.

“Thank you,” Medea smiles back.

“You needn’t thank me, for you I would do everything in my power to keep you happy.” Death states as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Now come, I have a new play I think you will like to read.”

“Oh, what play?”

“The latest work of Shakespeare.” Death answers. “Some writers like to keep on writing even after dying.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

She opens her eyes, returning to life once more, to find that she is laying in her bed, and Damian is asleep in a chair next to her.

Gently, she shakes him awake, “Dea? You’re back now?”

“Yes, I’m back,” she smiles, “I told you I would be.”

“You were dead all day and most of the night too,” Damian says, “you were taking so long, I—” he doesn’t continue, but Medea knows where he was going with that.

“I’m sorry, tayir saghir, I didn’t mean to worry you, I was only visiting with Death.” Medea explains. “She gave me a new Shakespeare play to read, would you like to read it with me?”

“Yes, please.” Damian says.

“Then come here,” Medea pats the open space on her bed next to her, “I will read to you until you fall asleep.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“What’s bothering you, shabah saghir?” Talia asks her a few weeks after her latest death via poisoned blades.

“In about a week it will have been a year since the Joker killed me.” Medea comments. “It just has me… thinking about it quite often recently, is all.”

“Would you like to speak about it?” Talia offers.

“I just… he killed me when I was just fourteen years old. And I came back already fifteen. In another four or five months I’ll be sixteen. I should be getting ready to get my driver’s permit and I’m… here. Learning to fight, to kill if needed. Don’t get me wrong, ummi, I’m really happy here with you and Damian, but… I’m legally dead, I never made it through my freshman year of high school, I can’t get my permit, or go to college, or anything like that that kids my age are doing, even if I wanted to …and I really want to. And I know I could make a fake identity and do it all under that. But doing those things under a fake identity wouldn’t be the same, I want to do it all as myself, and I don’t see any way of me being legally resurrected any time soon. I’m really mad that the Joker is still managing to fuck things up for me even though you’ve killed him. Killing me wasn’t enough, I guess, even dead that bastard is ruining my life now that I’m back.”

“I see,” Talia hums. “Head on back to your training for now. Perhaps something can be done about all that later. For what it’s worth, I am sorry you must deal with this now, habibti.”

Medea sighs, “Alright. Thanks, ummi.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Medea is across from Ra’s. The tension in the room is near palpable. There is a lot on the line here, and Medea cannot lose to Ra’s—not now. She is so close to winning, he is already cornered and there is only one thing left for her to do.

She moves her queen into place, “Checkmate!”

You see, in the now roughly four months since Medea has come out of the pit, Ra’s has slowly, and grudgingly, been brought around to seeing Medea as family like Talia and Damian do rather than an annoyance who is wasting League resources. And that has led them to this, a game of chess where if Medea wins—like she just did—she gets access to Ra’s’ own personal library.

Okay, it’s actually a bit of a stretch to say he sees Medea as family like Talia and Damian do. It’s more like he realizes he can’t do anything to get rid of her and Talia and Damian won’t be persuaded to either, so he’s accepting her presence and slowly coming around to finding her presence amusing rather than annoying. Sorta like she’s the cat he never wanted, but that he tolerates for the sake of the rest of the family who all like her.

For the record, she doesn’t really like Ra’s either. She personally tries to find ways to annoy him that cannot be pinned back to her. Lazarus likes to help her out with those plots especially. But Medea does like these chess games of theirs. For one thing, it helps her improve her strategizing, and for another thing, when she wins, she always gets something good out of it. And recently, she’s been winning more than she’s been losing.

“The keys to your library, please,” she grins and holds out her hand, waiting for Ra’s to hand her the keys.

Medea can’t wait to get her hands on all of those books.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

It’s as she’s working her way through Ra’s’ library that she comes across a book that sparks her interest in magick. Well, she’s always been interested in it, but the book sparked her desire to learn how to do it.

The book itself is a rather detailed guide to the very, very basics of necromagick. Medea thinks it would be rather fitting for necromagick to be the sort of magick she attempts to learn, what with the whole gift of immortality from and communication with Death herself.

Medea takes the book with her when she leaves Ra’s’ library for the day, determined to begin teaching herself necromagick with the book as her guide.

Skimming the table of contents for the book later that night in her room, Medea determines that learning even the basics of necromagick will go much smoother if she has a grasp on most areas of forensics. Luckily, she’s already begun learning forensics, so it won’t be an issue to dive deeper into it.

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Flipping through the book, Medea decides to start with osteomagick specifically. Necromagick itself covers many sub categories of magick, and she is eager to teach herself as many of them as she can, but she’ll start with bones for now.

It’s a tiring process, but according to the book that’s to be expected with any new magick, especially so since this is the first magick she’s learning. The more practice someone has at a type of magick, the less energy consuming it will be for the user.

Once she’s read over the osteomagick section extensively, which takes her several days with how much she kept going back and taking more and more notes on it, she grabs a shovel and gets to work on beginning the practical applications of it.

She goes and locates the bones of the assassins who tried to kill Damian back in March, and gets to digging them up.

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Medea and Damian are out climbing trees to ‘practice their grip strength’ if you ask them what they’ll be telling Ra’s later. In reality, Medea remembers the few times Dick took her climbing trees at the manor, and wanted to give Damian the same sort of experience.

And then Damian gets distracted by a bird and falls out of the tree. Medea makes it down from her place high in the tree with impressive speed, panic rushing through her. Damian has a nasty cut on his cheek that’s sure to scar and several smaller scrapes and bruises, but nothing is broken or even fractured—and Medea doesn’t need an xray to check, since she’s started teaching herself osteomagick, she’s been able to sense bones when she focuses on doing so.

The moment she realizes Damian isn’t seriously hurt and her panic subsides, Medea starts laughing. She does try to hold it back, but as soon as Damian sees her trying not to laugh and begins to protest, all bets are off and Medea is full on laughing at him.

If you ask Damian how he got the scar on his cheek, he’ll tell you something along the lines of it happening during a high intensity training session whilst he was learning to fight multiple opponents at once. If you ask Medea to back the story up, she’ll laugh in your face and tell you it happened because of a bird.

When she tells Talia and Ra’s the story at dinner that night, the look in Damian’s eyes promises retribution. One of the books Death gifted her goes missing the next morning, along with Medea exiting her room to a balloon of paint falling on her. And thus begins the Week Long Prank War of Mid-May. It only ends when Ra’s gets so fed up that he sends the both of them to France for an entire week to get them away from him. Not as a vacation—he sends them on a retrieval mission for an artifact hidden in the catacombs, with the information that if they don’t end their prank war before they get back home then Damian can say goodbye to his animals in the sanctuary and Medea can say goodbye to her library access. Medea and Damian come to a truce after that.

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“Hey Lazarus?”

“Yeah, Lazzie?”

“I was thinking— wait. Lazzie? Where’re you getting that from?” Medea snorts.

“I’ve been calling you my little lass, a lassie you could say, a lassie who took a dip in the Lazarus Pit, a Lazarus Lassie—hence, Lazzie.” She’s sure Lazarus would be grinning if he could.

“Okay fine, sure, whatever. I’m gonna call you… ‘Rus, then. I get a nickname, you get a nickname.” Medea says. “Also, why little? Why does everyone seem to call me little something? You, and Talia, who's next? Y’all know I’m not little anymore, I’m very tall now.”

“You’re little in spirit.” Lazarus answers.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“You’re cute and vicious, and would totally go for someone’s knees if you felt like it. Your height is irrelevant if you’re little in spirit. It ain’t a bad thing Lazzie, we all know how competent and physically capable you are. Just accept that you’re little.”

“I— oh what-fucking-ever. Look, back to my original question. Nothing bad will happen to me if I go into a Lazarus Pit again, will it? Not with you on my side?”

“No, nothing’ll happen to you. Why, though?” Lazarus asks, clearly intrigued with where this could be going.

“Well it’s summertime now, and in summer, people go swimming, right? Right. So here’s what I’m thinking—” and Medea goes on to explain her plan on exactly how she could annoy Ra’s today.

That afternoon, Medea was found on a flamingo pool floatie in the Lazarus Pit, drinking the fruitiest mocktail she could find, relaxing in her swimsuit with sunglasses on.

Ra’s ranted at her about her disrespect of the pit all through dinner and then some. Medea could hear Lazarus laughing in her head the entire time.

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That July, Medea discovers what quickly becomes her favorite way to annoy Ra’s, if only because in the process it makes Damian quite happy.

You see, every time Ra’s does something that particularly frustrates Medea, upsets Damian, or inconveniences Talia, Medea goes out and comes back with a new animal for Damian to keep in his animal sanctuary. Yvette and Nahla have gained several animal friends since the sanctuary was built, but after Medea starts actively finding more animals for Damian whenever Ra’s is especially an asshole, the number of various animals in the sanctuary grows even more.

Ra’s gets annoyed by the amount of resources that need to go towards the animals, but knows if he cuts off those resources things will only get far worse for him, so he is in a constant state of annoyance at Medea’s new habit. Plus, it makes Damian very happy to be able to keep so many animals safe and healthy, and to be able to visit them whenever he wishes. So, with the small action of fetching a new animal whenever Ra’s is too much of an asshole, Medea gets to make Ra’s annoyed and Damian happy.

She definitely counts it as a win in her eyes. And if Medea so happens to get even more joy out of it on account of the fact that she also adores spending time at the animal sanctuary… well, that isn’t the focus here.

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“Happy sixteenth birthday, Medea.” Talia says, smiling at her.

“Thanks, Tals,” Medea glances at a large envelope in Talia’s hands, “What’s that?”

“My gift for you,” Talia hands her the envelope.

Medea opens it carefully, pulling out a stack of papers and looking each of them over, “These are…”

“Your legal resurrection, new adoption papers, and a last name change, if you would like it.” Talia states. “Medea, in the months that you have been here you have become like a daughter to me. I told you this just after the pit, and I’m telling you again now. You are family, shabah saghir, to me and to Damian. I figured it was time to make that official. And, now, you may do everything you want to, as yourself. You can get a driver's permit, a license eventually, you can get a high school degree, you can go to college, all with your own identity.”

“I…” Medea rushes to give Talia a hug, tears in her eyes from the overwhelming feeling of happiness, “Thank you, ummi. This is… this is wonderful. This must’ve taken so much work, I— Thank you.”

Talia returns the hug, “You’re welcome, abnati. For you, it was no trouble at all.”

“…I’m sure Ra’s is just thrilled that I’m officially an Al Ghul now…” Medea murmurs, still not breaking the hug.

Talia laughs, “Oh indeed, my father had several choice words when I informed him.”

After that, they make quick work of getting the paperwork all finalized, and by the end of August she is no longer the legally deceased Medea Peyton Todd-Wayne, but rather she is the legally resurrected Medea Peyton al Ghul-Todd.

She didn’t need the paperwork to know that Talia and Damian were her family, blood and paperwork mean nothing unless you want them to, it is the bond you build and the familial feelings for each other that make people family. But Medea won’t deny that the paperwork making it official is a wonderful feeling.

It reminds her of the same way she felt with her first family, Catherine and Willis, before the cancer worsened and her mama lost herself to drugs because they couldn’t afford the medicine she needed, before her dad had to take more and more frequent and dangerous jobs just to keep a roof over their heads and food in their fridge until the jobs got him caught by the cops and his employer decided he should be shut up permanently. It reminds her of the care they had for each other and for her, the strong, unconditional love and a familial bond that came easy.

She misses them. Maybe next she’ll branch her necromagick into the necromancy field and see if she can communicate with them. Or ask Death about it.

Talia and Damian being her family now could never replace the family she had with Catherine and Willis, nor the family she had when Bruce had adopted her, but they do add to it, and Medea is so happy about it.

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“It hurts,” Damian says, holding back tears.

“I know, it’ll be okay, you’ll be alright,” Medea comforts.

Early that September, Talia had taken Medea and Damian out on a trip. Everything was going great until Damian got hit by a car. It had happened when they were walking along the sidewalk, Damian closest to the road because he wanted ‘as unimpeded a view of the storefronts across the way’ as he could get to sketch out later. A car had swerved directly into him to avoid hitting a runaway baby stroller, and neither Medea or Talia were quite quick enough to pull Damian back out of the way entirely.

So now they’re here, Damian laying on the sidewalk with a broken femur and in a lot of pain from it, Talia and Medea both at his side comforting him.

Now see, Medea had kept her necromagick practice a secret. But Medea would give up all her secrets for her little brother in a heartbeat, and while she hasn’t tried any osteomagick on a living being yet, given that she learned it as a sub category of necromagick, everything the books she has read on that particular magick says it will work on living beings. No time like now to find out if her magick will be enough to mend Damian’s bone.

Focusing on where she can sense the break in his femur, Medea draws upon her magick and lets it flow from her fingertips, tuning out the noises around her of Damian’s pain, Talia’s comfort, the panic of those who were passing by, the frantic apologies of the driver. Slowly, she can sense the bone starting to heal as she uses her osteokinesis to move it back into place and mend the break.

It’s tiring work, what with it being her first time using osteomagick on someone living, but it’s well worth the slight exhaustion to see Damian healed and no longer in pain from the break. She can’t do anything about the scrapes and bruises, though, but somehow she thinks that no one will mind that.

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“So, you’ve learned some magick, I see.” Talia comments once they’re back home and have properly assured themselves that Damian is okay.

“Yes, I have. I found a book on necromagick basics in Ra’s’ library and decided to teach myself.” Medea explains briefly. “Is that… alright?”

“It’s more than alright, habibti,” Talia says, “and you seem to be coming along quite well for being self taught! I am very proud of you.”

“Oh! Thank you, ummi,” Medea smiles.

“In fact, how would you like to have a chance at learning even more magick?” Talia asks.

“I’d love that,” Medea answers without hesitation.

“If it works out, you will have to spend quite some time away from home. Around a year at least I expect,” Talia warns, “Will you be alright with that?”

“I…” Medea thinks it over, seriously considering her options, “As long as I can call often and visit home as well.”

“I doubt it will be a problem for that to happen.” Talia nods. “I will go see if I can set this up for you, then.”

“Thanks, ummi. I’d really like to learn more magick.” Medea says.

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Talia gets it worked out, and at the end of September Medea is packing to go to the All Caste.

“Do you have to go, ukhti?” Damian asks just as she’s about to leave, looking saddened.

“Yes, tayir saghir, I do,” Medea says, “but don’t look so sad, I promise I’ll call you as often as I can. And I’m sure you’ll get up to lots of fun while I’m gone, and make lots of progress in your training and education. I expect to hear stories from you when I come to visit.”

“Okay…” Damian pouts, though he’ll deny it if asked, “and you promise you’ll come back eventually?”

“Damian, I will always come back to you. You’re my family, nothing can change that, and I always make it back to those who are family to me eventually. I don’t abandon my family, even if we are separated for a while.” Medea reassures him.

“Hm… well you better learn lots of magick while you are gone.” he says firmly, “I expect stories from you as well when you visit. Be safe, Dea.”

“You be safe as well, Dames.” Medea kneels down and pulls him into a hug. “Goodbye for now, akhi.”

“Goodbye, ukhti,”

And with their goodbyes said, Medea having already said her goodbyes to Talia (and Ra’s, in the form of one last chess match before they won’t be able to have any for a while. This time she won a sword off of him.), she sets off for the All Caste, excited at the prospect of learning more magick…

…if she can pass the trials Talia warned her there would be.

Chapter Text

Finding the All Caste was difficult as fuck. Talia had warned her it would be, the Acres of All are highly steeped in protective magick to obfuscate their location, but still. It was damn fucking difficult to find.

When she finally makes it there, she’s given a place to rest for the night, and is informed she’ll be escorted to the Chamber of All to go through with the three entrance trials.

She had heard a little about them from Talia. Three trials to test you, to see if you have what it takes to make it in the All Caste. Your mind, body, and soul will be tested. Talia got through two before failing, apparently, and that’s how she knows so much about the All Caste. Talia said that normally your memory of the location would be removed if you failed to become a member of the All Caste, but they allowed her to keep her memory of it… Talia never told her why, but Medea could tell there was a story of some sort behind it.

Settling into the room she was given—the room which she was informed would remain hers for the duration of her time in the Acres of All should she pass the trials and join the All Caste officially—Medea hears a knock on her door.

She opens the door and standing on the other side is a young woman, who actually looks to be about Medea’s age. She’s just a couple inches shorter than Medea, she’s got a slight sun tan and her eyes are entirely black, and the young woman’s hair is a gorgeous navy blue and white styled into beach curls that reach about chin length.

“Hi,” Medea greets, “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I just heard someone new was staying here and wanted to say hi,” the young woman says, “I’m living in the room just across the hall from you. My name’s Naia.”

“I’m Medea, nice to meet you,” she hums, “Wouldn’t it have been better to wait until after I passed the trials to come say hi? Who says I won’t be leaving tomorrow, never to see you again.” Medea grins.

“I have a good feeling about your chances,” Naia looks her up and down, “Though then again, no human has ever made it into the All Caste before. You’d be the first… if you pass all the trials, that is.”

“Really? No humans at all have ever made it?”

“Nope,” Naia confirms, “Not many humans know about the All Caste in the first place, even less make it to the Acres of All, and none of the ones that have made it managed to pass all three entrance trials for one reason or another. Most humans just don’t have what it takes to be part of the All Caste.”

“Well then,” Medea hums, “I hope I can be the first. I think I’ve got what it takes.”

Naia tilts her head, “I wish you luck,” with that said, she turns and walks back across the hall to her room.

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When the sun starts to rise the next morning, Medea is brought to the Chamber of All by a woman who introduced herself as Essence.

They pass by the Chamber’s Gate Guardian, S’aru, and Medea is led to a large room with walls—one of which is made of glass, and she can see others of the All Caste already waiting behind it to observe her trials—decorated in magick runes, some of which she recognizes, most of which she doesn’t.

“Stand on the large rune in the center,” Essence instructs, “Once alone in the room, your first entrance trial will commence.”

The first of the entrance trials, Medea had been told, is the Trial of the Mind. If she fails, she’ll have the location of the Acres of All removed from her mind by S’aru and will be sent home. If she passes, she’ll move on to the second trial.

Essence leaves the room, and Medea takes a deep breath before walking over to stand on the center rune. Beneath her feet, the rune begins to glow a bright white. Slowly, her field of vision narrows, and Medea loses sight of the room around her, her view becoming consumed by white light. Her head feels fuzzy, and the only thing she hears is an odd, distorted tv static sound.

Then her vision clears, and she sees before her a memory she’d have rather forgotten. After all, there is nothing so upsetting as finding your mother dead.

The memory plays out before her, and Medea watches as a younger version of herself gets home and immediately sets about making dinner. Her young self doesn’t know it yet, but she doesn’t need two bowls of soup, not with Catherine in the other room, already dead as she had been for a couple hours at that point.

She watches her younger self take the soup into Catherine’s room, setting them down beside the bed, and try to shake Catherine awake, talking softly. Medea wants to look away, but she doesn’t. She has a feeling that looking away would be exactly what would cause her to fail this trial. It’s a trial of the mind, after all, it makes sense that facing your bad memories would be part of the test. So Medea will stand here, and she will face them without looking away.

Her younger self’s desperation grows as she realizes Catherine isn’t waking up but she still keeps trying, denying the truth even though she can feel the way that Catherine doesn’t have a pulse and see the cloudiness of her eyes.

Finally accepting it, her younger self begins to cry, heaving out sobs and choking on her tears. The current Medea barely holds back her own tears, but she’s seen this sight before and it made its appearance in her nightmares several times, so she refuses to allow this damn trial to get even more tears from her.

More memories follow that one, a string of the most awful moments in her life, the things she had never wanted to relive but that her nightmares make her relive sometimes anyways. The day her dad died, her first night entirely on the streets, being chased by those men, finding out her friend was dead because his father shot him and his mother, all of that and so much more, each memory plays out and Medea just stands there and faces it. At some point she finally lets her tears fall, but still she stands strong, not willing to do anything that the trial might fail her for.

The memories continue until they get to what she knows will be her last memory. The Joker.

She forces herself to keep watching as that awful sound of the crowbar rings out, the ticking of the bomb filling the room. She didn’t need the trial to remind her of every single exact detail of this memory. Medea already knew it all by heart. Then the bomb goes off and her vision flashes white again and Medea breathes a sigh of relief.

Instead of the white fading away and leaving her back in the trial room, it fades into a sight she only ever sees in her nightmares. Face your memories first, your nightmares after. Medea takes a deep breath, and braces herself for what’s to come. She refuses to fail this trial.

It’s worse than the memories. Those she had faced before, and while they felt exactly like she was back there again, she had gotten through it once and she could do it again. Her nightmares, though… the trial makes them feel far more real than they ever have felt before, dragging up every detail of them.

Seeing Damian dead because she failed to stop an attempt on his life will haunt her forever. Seeing him end up dead at the Joker’s hands like she had rattled her deeply. Still, she doesn’t look away and risk failing. Not even as more and more nightmares play out, most of them about her family being killed.

Finally, blessedly, the first trial ends. Medea lets out a shaky sob and takes a deep breath, relief flooding her system.

The relief doesn’t last too long, in moments the rune beneath her feet glows and Medea feels a burning hot flash of pain on her collarbones. It only takes her a moment to realize what had happened—she passed the trial, and the Chamber Magicks granted her a mark to show that. She had been told it would happen, if you pass a trial or go through a ritual in the Chamber of All, there’s almost always a magickally given tattoo to show for it. Each tattoo includes the standard All Caste runes for the specific trial or ritual, and then magick will personalize the rest for each individual.

Passing the Trial of the Mind grants you a collarbone tattoo, and Medea’s is a perfectly symmetrical one with the standard All Caste runes inked into her skin in a way that makes them look as if they’re twisting around her collarbones, in and out of her skin. The personal touch to this tattoo rests in the middle of her collarbones where the runes meet, magick gifting her a bird skull as part of her tattoo—the skull of a robin, to be specific.

Not that Medea gets to see it—there aren’t really any mirrors in the room, after all.

A voice rings out in her head—not Lazarus’—“Your second trial will commence in three minutes.”

“Three minutes!” Medea yelps, “What, I don’t get any time to rest between trials?”

The same voice speaks again, “In a battle with our enemies you won’t even get three minutes. You rest, you die.”

“…that makes sense.”

Medea spends the three minutes chatting with Lazarus in her head. She knows the Trial of the Body is the next trial, so she and ‘Rus spend the time speculating on what that might entail.

As soon as the three minutes are up, the rune beneath her feet begins to glow once more, this time lighting up with a bright blue color. Her vision doesn’t haze out as it did in the Trial of the Mind, rather, more runes in the room begin to glow blue as well, and then slowly constructs begin to form, and the atmosphere of the room changes to feel as if she’s outside in the freezing cold. The ground beneath her feet becomes snowy, and there’s a chill in the air as snowflakes begin to fall. The constructs solidify into enemies for her to fight just as a weapon appears in her hand.

Medea grins. She can handle a fight.

The trial goes on for a long while, the number of constructs growing and shrinking unpredictably, the atmosphere changing up randomly so she’s going from freezing cold to sweltering heat to pouring rain and a bunch of other types of weather. The weapon in her hand changes out too from time to time, letting her test her skills with different weapons.

She can feel herself wearing out the longer the trial goes on, but she pushes through. Medea imagines that being worn out is the point of the trial, probably testing how well and how long she can keep fighting through exhaustion. She’s ever so grateful for all the training she’s done before coming to the All Caste.

Medea twists and turns, giving her all to the fight as she weaves between constructs, finding and hitting their weak spots. It’s as she’s starting to really get tired that the weapon in her hands disappears, but the trial keeps going.

Hand to hand combat it is.

She throws herself into finishing this as fast as she can, before the exhaustion settles in completely and she needs to stop fighting. She notices that no more constructs are appearing as she takes down more and more of them, and eventually, she’s left facing only one construct.

It’s the biggest construct yet, with a long blade in its hands that means Medea won’t easily be able to get close. Well… no point in wasting time, she’s not getting any less exhausted here and it seems like this is the final one.

Medea gives it all she’s got, going after the last construct with a great fierceness. In the end, though, hand to hand against that blade just isn’t feasible, and Medea ends up with the blade pressed against her throat, not cutting in, but resting there, a clear sign that in a real battle, she’d’ve just been killed.

Fuck. Medea really hopes she didn’t just fail the trial because of that.

The main rune on the ground begins to glow blue once more, the construct in front of her disappearing, and the atmosphere returning to normal. Getting up, Medea goes over to stand on the rune once more. Time to find out if she passed the trial or not.

Standing on the rune, she feels the same painful burning sensation as she did when she was marked as having passed the last trial, this time on her shoulder blades. This time, the magick marks her with a symmetrical, swirling mess of black ink that for all it isn’t actually moving appears to be flowing, the ink wrapping around to the front of her shoulders where the magickal tattoo seems to bleed into the ones on her collarbones. The standard All Caste runes for the trial are woven into the flowy tattoos on her shoulder, their placement making the runes look like specks and spatter coming off of the inky swirls.

Medea lets out a sigh of relief when the magick finishes her newest tattoo, both because she passed the trial and because the burning sensation of her skin being marked is over with.

Two trials down, one trial left to go. The last trial is the most difficult of the trials, from what she’s heard. The Trial of the Soul is apparently where most fail—it’s the one where Talia failed—simply due to lacking the power and will needed to be a part of the All Caste. She hasn’t heard more than that, though, and she never will if she doesn’t make it into the All Caste.

From all she’s read and heard about so far, your soul is… the very core of you. It’s a physical (well, no, not technically physical, it’s your soul after all… ugh, it’s a little confusing, Medea admits) manifestation tied to your very life force, but it’s also a source of certain magicks. Your soul can represent and reveal any corruption, stains of evil, signs of weak will, fragmentation, general power level, and more. And that’s what this next trial checks for.

The Chamber’s magicks will See into your very soul and deem you worthy or unworthy of joining the All Caste depending on what it Sees.

Medea takes a deep breath as the rune beneath her feet lights up for the third trial to commence, a soft glow of gold light encompassing her.

She has to admit, she’s worried that she’ll fail this trial. Did the Lazarus Pit leave any corruption on her soul? Does having ‘Rus lingering in her mind cause any fragmentation to her soul? …have her several deaths damaged her soul? Does she even have enough willpower, magickal potential, and general power to be deemed worthy of joining the All Caste?

So, yes, as the trial takes place she’s more than a tiny bit worried. She can practically feel the probing magick against her soul… which is really weird, she didn’t realize she would feel it… it’s actually kinda ticklish… but anyway—she can feel the trial happening even though nothing outwards shows it aside from the golden glow which didn’t fade for the duration of the trial like with the other two.

And she can feel when the magicks finish Seeing and Checking her soul, too.

The ticklish feeling stops abruptly and the golden light glows brighter and brighter until it rapidly dims. For a moment too long, in Medea’s opinion, nothing happens. Just as she’s ready to take it as a sign she failed the trial and that it’s time for her to leave, that telltale burning hot pain lights up her spine.

The magicks weave her next tattoo onto her skin, an actual spinal column running from her neck all the way down her spine, the spinal column being interwoven with monkshood flowers that start at the bottom of the swirling shoulder blade tattoos she has and run down to the base of her newest tattoo. The standard All Caste runes marking this as a passage of the Trial of the Soul stem out of the spinal column tattoo from her neck and bleed into the tattoos on her shoulder blades.

Medea smiles as the new magickal markings finish being placed. She did it. She passed the three entrance trials!

“Well done,” Essence says, rejoining Medea in the room now that the trials are over, another woman walking with her. Medea recognizes the woman— It’s Ducra, the All Caste leader.

“Yes, well done,” Ducra says, “but you are not finished. There is still the Ritual of Cleansing to undergo.”

“What is that?” Medea asks, “uh… ma’am.” she quickly adds, remembering it’s best to be respectful.

“Good, you aren’t a yutz who forgets her manners, Child of the Lazarus Pit.” Ducra nods once in approval, “the Ritual is the last thing you must do to gain entrance into the All Caste. Presumably you have nothing to cleanse if you made it this far, but we do not take chances. We cannot have pure evil invade the Acres of All. You will go through the cleansing, and when the magicks deem you cleansed, they will mark you, and your training with us begins. Come, Pit Child, to the purifying waters.”

Ducra turns and walks out of the room, Essence leaving with her. Medea freezes for only a moment before quickly following after them.

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The Ritual of Cleansing has her submerged entirely into a pool of purifying water that was apparently blessed by Ducra ages ago when the All Caste was formed. Medea would have been worried about ‘Rus being purged from her, but if the Trial of the Soul didn’t deem him an issue, and Ducra clearly knows about him or at least her dip in the Pit and didn’t deem it an issue either, then the Ritual of Cleansing shouldn’t see ‘Rus and the enhancements he’s given her as something to cleanse either.

She’s getting kinda sick of things that cut off her oxygen, and if she had nickel for every time she’s been submerged into magick or at least magick adjacent waters, she’d have two nickels—which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice. Unlike in her coffin or coming out of the Lazarus Pit, though, she isn’t trying to claw her way up and out from the water she’s submerged in this time. Medea is just doing her best to hold her breath as long as possible while the ritual takes place.

Eventually, though, she needs to come up for air. When she does, it takes no time at all for her to know the ritual magicks deemed her cleansed enough to gain entrance into the All Caste.

The burning sensation sparks across her skin again, lighting her sternum up in pain. The magick dances across her skin, marking her with another tattoo to confirm that she’s been cleansed. The water she’s still sitting in glows and some of it begins to swirl in the air, entwining with the magick to embed the purifying blessing of the waters into the tattoo.

This tattoo takes the shape of a bat hanging upside down surrounded by flowers on her sternum beneath her breasts. The standard All Caste runes marking her cleansing surround the bat, coming together into an intricate, pointed design at the very top of this tattoo, the top most point of it sitting in between her breasts.

She did it. Medea is a member of the All Caste now.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“So,” Naia greets, “first human to ever join the All Caste. Congratulations, Medea. I told you I had a good feeling about your chances.”

Medea laughs, “Thanks, Naia! Oh, hey, I was wondering, cause no one has really explained it to me clearly—how exactly do things work around here?”

“Well I’ve only been here a few months, I don’t know everything about this place yet, but I can tell you it’s sort of like… a cross between a military school and a boarding school with a heavy focus on self study. That is what humans have, correct? It’s not like I’ve ever been to either, and I don’t go out much.” Naia explains. “Point is—there’s mandatory training in various weapon handling and martial arts, specifically in All Caste techniques and weapons, but in general as well—that’s what I mean by the military school comparison.”

Naia continues her explanation, seeing that Medea is following along and looks happy to hear more, “As for the self study boarding school… well, we’re welcome to live here in the Acres of All while we learn all we can, and you can choose which magicks you learn. The teachers for each type of magick are more so there to guide you rather than set a curriculum and timeline, so you go at your own pace and use the resources to teach yourself, but with more help than being totally self taught.” Naia hums, “I think that about covers the basics you’ll need to know about this place… oh, there’s mandatory training in the morning before breakfast and in the evening after dinner. Any questions?”

“Thank you for that explanation,” Medea smiles, “And yeah, actually, I do have a question—if it’s like a school for magicks, is there something like a graduation or whatever for when you learn all you can about a type of magick?”

“You can earn a mastery in a type of magick—well, you can earn multiple for multiple types, but you know what I mean—but it’s not so much a sign that you’ve learned all you can. One thing you’ll learn here with the All Caste is that even if you’re marked as a master by the Chamber magicks, you’ll always have more to learn about that magick. Oh, and you gain a mastery by passing a mastery trial in the Chamber of All, sorta like the entrance trials you just went through. They’re specific to each type of magick, of course. And like the entrance trials, you’ll get a magickal tattoo if you pass.” Naia explains.

“That’s really cool,” Medea says, “Thanks, by the way!”

After that, the two young women spend more time talking. Medea learns that Naia is only 17, her favorite color is blue, that yes the navy blue in her hair is natural, and she really misses her family—Medea didn’t ask what her family situation was, exactly, that means she has to miss them so much… it didn’t feel like it was a first real conversation type of topic.

In turn, Medea shares small tidbits about herself, like that she’s only 16, her favorite color is green, that yes the white in her hair is natural, and that she misses her family too. As the two keep talking, it turns out that she and Naia have a lot in common. Medea is glad that she seems to already be making a friend.

That night, after Naia went back across the hall to her own room, Medea calls Talia.

“Hi, ummi,” Medea greets.

“Hello, abnati,” Talia says warmly, “Congratulations on making it into the All Caste.”

“How did you know—”

“Mother’s intuition, let’s say.”

“Well,” Medea smiles, “Thank you. I’m… really excited about this,”

“You will do wonderful things there, I’m sure.” Talia comments, “Now, I have someone here who would like to say hi to you,”

“Ukhti!” Damian greets, “Are you well? Were the trials difficult?”

“Hello tayir saghir,” Medea grins, “yes, I’m well. The trials took a lot of effort, that’s for sure. How are Yvette and Nahla? And the rest of the animals in the sanctuary? Is William Snakespeare liking his new python friend?”

Those few questions are all it takes for Damian to go off speaking of his animals for hours, and by the time Medea hangs up the phone, it’s rather late.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

By the end of October, Medea has settled into life with the All Caste seamlessly, excelling in the mandatory training just as she did with the League of Assassins. She’s going far in her self studies with magick as well, already choosing to dive headfirst into multiple types of magick, though she has plans to prioritize one at a time and gain a mastery in each until she has a mastery in every magick she decides to learn here.

About a week before November starts, Medea finds herself in the Chamber of All again, taking her first mastery trial only a month into being with the All Caste. But, well, to be fair, she’s already learned a lot of osteomagick before now.

The trial is long and arduous, testing every aspect it can, and there are many times throughout the trial where Medea believes that she’ll fail and have to try again later. But, as it turns out, she was worried for nothing. The Chamber magicks deemed her knowledgeable enough about osteomagick and skilled enough in wielding it to grant her a mastery status in the magick.

She doesn’t startle when she feels that hot flash of pain signaling another magick tattoo being marked on her body. This time, it’s on the back of her right hand. Medea is able to watch this time as the magick works its way under her skin, leaving its tattoo on her skin, this one of phalanges on, well, her phalanges—but just her ring and pinky fingers on that hand. And at the base of the tattooed phalanges is a semi circle of All Caste runes, almost resembling a clock in how they’re arranged, marking this tattoo as a result of gaining her mastery in osteomagick specifically.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Around mid November, Medea is pulled aside to speak with Ducra.

“Hello, All-Mother,” Medea says, “you wished to speak with me?”

“Yes Medea,” Ducra nods, “it is about your training with our weapons.”

“What about it?”

“You are excelling, even though you have only been here a short time.” Ducra comments, “You are doing well, and you could be doing even more. Would you like to be able to do more?”

“Always,” Medea doesn’t hesitate with her answer, “but what do you mean by that?”

“You have seen the blade Essence uses, yes child?”

“I have,” Medea nods. Essence’s blade truly is a wonder, Medea has always admired it whenever she’s caught glimpses of Essence training with it. “Why?”

“It’s a special blade, one of a kind and linked directly to Essence for her and only her to use. I would like to give you the chance to have something similar.” Ducra says simply, as if she isn’t presenting Medea with a once in a lifetime chance, as if this isn’t a life changing offer. To have a magick blade of her own? She may not have been with the All Caste long, but she has heard of the differences between a weapon forged with the magick of the All Caste and a weapon made entirely of the magick of the All Caste. To have a weapon of pure magick would be… incredible.

“Yes, please, I would—I would love that chance. What do I need to do?” There’s no chance in hell Medea would pass up on this chance, even if she’s finding it incredibly odd that she’s only been here for not even a full two months and already she’s being offered this incredibly rare opportunity.

“You have already begun learning some soul magick, correct?”

“Some, yes, I have,” Medea confirms.

“Then you should know enough soulekinesis to wrap your soul around the magicks of the All Blades. They are blades powered on soul magick, and so shall need a soul to anchor to.” Ducra tells her. “Do you accept these blades and the responsibility that will come with them? Be aware, this means you have much more training ahead of you. You shall join Essence just before lunch to learn your way around the All Blades if you accept.”

Does she? It sounds as though it will be a lot of work, and a lot of responsibility… but hard work has never bothered Medea, and she won’t let it stop her now. But even still there is more she has to consider. Like that these blades will be anchored to her soul, forever entwined with her. It could be risky…

Medea makes up her mind, “…yes. I accept.”

“Very well,” Ducra says, “now then… time for the blades to become yours.” A golden flame appears hovering in midair, “This is the magick of the blades. Reach out with your soul and claim the magick, then the All Blades shall be yours.”

Medea does just that, using her so far limited knowledge of soulekinesis to move her soul into surrounding the magick of the blades. Then, once the magick is in her soul’s grasp, she reels it back into place, the magick going with it and merging into her soul. From an outside point of view, it all just looks like a very pretty light show of glowing gold specks flittering around Medea.

“Did it… work?” Medea asks, opening her eyes which she had previously closed when she started messing with her soul.

“Give it a moment to settle, child. Patience is a good skill to have.” Ducra hums.

She listens, giving it a moment, and then the inside of her forearms light up in a searing hot flash of pain.

Yeah, it worked.

On her forearms are matching magickal tattoos of a pair of blades, one blade on each forearm, and having not yet summoned the All Blades, Medea can only assume the tattoos look exactly as the blades do. There’s All Caste runes making up the hilts, and more runes running down the centers of the blades. If this is what the All Blades look like—and she strongly suspects it is—then the blades are a work of art, and Medea cannot wait to train with them.

“Thank you, Ducra.” Medea says, looking up from her newest tattoos. “I sincerely appreciate this opportunity… but can I ask… why? I am the newest member of the All Caste, I haven’t even been here for three months, and yet… you have entrusted me with the All Blades.”

“You will come to learn precisely why in time, but not yet. For now, Medea, know that you deserve these. You are the newest member, but you are one of if not the strongest of the All Caste, in magick and in willpower, in soul and in body, and you have an incredible strength of mind as well. The All Blades chose you long before today, I am only entrusting you with something that would always have been yours.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“So what’s with the black leather thigh harness leg bag you’re wearing now?” Naia asks her a few days into December.

The bag is a newer addition, but Medea is trying to get in the habit of wearing it or having at least some of the stuff she keeps in it on her in some way at all times. She’s been focusing on necromagick lately, more than just the osteomagick subcategory of it. She’s hoping she can get All Caste recognized masteries in necromagick overall and also both necro-biokinesis and necromancy specifically, two other subcategories of it that have caught her attention, by the middle of February—she’s been practicing hard and putting in a lot of effort lately, so she doesn’t think that’s an unreasonable timeline. Besides, magicks dealing with death seem to come more naturally to her. The bag she’s taken to wearing is especially helpful for her necromancy—or, the stuff in it is.

“It’s like a sort of graveyard etiquette on the go pack,” Medea explains, “Proper offerings and the like for communicating with spirits and respecting the dead.”

“Oh, I see,” Naia says, “That’s nice of you.”

“Mhm, it’s the least I can do, really.”

“Still nice of you,” Naia insists, “Take the compliment and admit it’s nice of you, beautiful.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” Medea grins.

“Yeah,” Naia nods, “I do.”

Medea’s grin softens into a genuine smile. In the few months that she’s known Naia, she’s developed a bit of a crush on the young woman, and Naia has made small comments like these more and more frequently recently, leading Medea to think that perhaps her crush is reciprocated. She hopes it is, she hasn’t known Naia long yet but so far… Medea thinks she could be very happily in love with Naia, some day in the future.

“Thank you,” Medea replies, “You yourself are beautiful too,”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“I hate you,” Medea grumbles from where she had fallen on the ground, knocked down during training, the All Blades disappearing from her hands and retreating back into her soul.

“No, you don’t,” Essence chuckles, letting her Blood Blade retreat as well..

“No,” Medea sighs, “I don’t.”

“You’re getting better with your blades,” Essence comments.

“But still not enough to beat you even once, yet,” Medea shakes her head.

“It’s only January, Medea,” Essence points out, “you’ve had the All Blades since, what, November? So, two or three months you’ve been training with them. For that short of a time, you’re actually excelling.”

“I suppose,” Medea concedes.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

She doesn’t quite achieve her goal of the three masteries—necromagick, necro-biokinesis, and necromancy—by mid February. However, she does get them by the end of February. So, a couple weeks later than she’d’ve liked, but at least she wasn’t an entire month later than her goal.

Three new magickal tattoos adorn her body now. For her mastery in necromancy, once she passed the trial the magicks gave her a tattoo of a death’s head hawkmoth surrounded by runes that mark it as a tattoo for the mastery of necromancy in the shape of a diamond, the tattoo places upon her upper left arm, right up close on her shoulder, close enough that the top of the moth’s antennae are practically weaved into the tattoo she gained for passing the Trial of the Body.

After passing the mastery trial for necro-biokinesis, she gained a magickal tattoo on her upper right arm, in practically the same place as the moth on her left arm, though this one is of a carrion crow rather than a moth, and the runes that mark it as a mastery tattoo for necro-biokinesis in particular are in a circle surrounding the carrion crow rather than a diamond shape.

When she passed the mastery trial for necromagick overall, Medea was granted a tattoo on her right hip trailing down onto her upper right thigh. The tattoo itself is of an ornate phoenix with its wings spread wide surrounded by a halo of sorts at its head. The halo itself is made up of the runes which mark it as a necromagick mastery tattoo.

And now that she has necromagick and a good deal of its subcategories—osteomagick, necro-biokinesis, and necromancy—mastered in the eyes of the magick of the All Caste, she can begin to prioritize some of the other magicks she’s begun looking into in the past few months. She’s touched upon the basics of them all, but having put a priority on necromagick, she hasn’t gotten too much further. The ones she’d like to gain masteries in before she leaves the Acres of All are blood magick, soul magick, and umbramagick—shadow magick, that is.

If she can, she’d like to also gain masteries in at least one subcategory for each of those three; hemokinesis, soulekinesis, and umbrakinesis. You might think you need to gain a mastery in every subcategory there is of a type of magick before you can gain a mastery in the magick type overall but that’s not actually the case, something that Medea was quite happy to discover.
Medea thinks she’ll focus on soul magick and soulekinesis as priorities next. She’s already a little more knowledgeable on those than the other magicks she’d like to master, seeing as it’s soul magick that she needs for her All Blades.

“You seem rather preoccupied, darling,” Naia hums, coming up behind her and pulling Medea back into a hug—they’d started dating towards the end of January, and it’s been a very happy relationship thus far.

“Just planning my next steps,” Medea smiles, “There’s still so much I’d like to master—and still more I can learn about what I’ve already mastered!”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to master every type of magick you wish to,” Naia says, “Now come on, come to bed, it’s getting late.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

March brings a whole slew of fun new developments for Medea. Firstly, Death comes to visit her quite early in the month and brings Medea a very special gift.

“Death!” Medea greets, “Hi, what’s up?”

“I hear that you’ve gained a mastery in necromagick,” Death hums, “and so, I have something I wish to give you.”

“Oh, thank you,” Medea smiles, “but you really don’t need to give me anything!”

“Ah, but I want to, my child.” Death insists, “So, please, allow me to give you this.”

“Alright,” Medea concedes, “What is it that you have for me?”

“Its name is changeable, I have taken to calling it a Death Sense though,” Death tells her, “With this gift, you will be able to sense if someone you are physically close to is getting closer to dying in the moment. You may do with that what you will, though keep in mind that sometimes a person’s death is unavoidable. Sometimes, it is just that person’s time. But sometimes, there is something that can be done.”

“I see…” Medea thinks about the ways this gift could be used, “I can see how it would be a useful gift, thank you for giving it to me.”

“Of course sweetling,” Death says, “anything for you. I know you would never try to abuse the gifts I’ve given you, and that is why I give you them.”

Nothing physically changes, but Medea can feel the Death Sense be given to her, like a heavy weight settling deep into her bones and etching itself onto her soul.

Death stays to chat a while after that, and Medea and Death spend hours talking about all sorts of different things. It’s a very nice evening, if you ask Medea.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Around the middle of March, Medea figures something out that she’s been trying hard to make work since she began learning soul magick. It started out as a simple idea, a passing thought more than anything else, but Medea latched onto it and put in the effort to try and make that idea into a reality. And now, she finally has.

Standing in front of her is a tall man, about 6’11”, maybe 7’. He’s got eyes with no pupils that are entirely the color of the lazarus pits and glow like them too. His hair looks black but if you see it in the right lighting you’d be able to tell it’s actually a very dark green. The man looks to be in his 30s or 40s. He appears to be rather translucent as well, yet he can touch objects and people as if his own body were entirely solid as any other human being.

The man in front of her is Lazarus. Medea spent lots of time working on a way to pull his spirit into a physical form. It’s temporary, she must focus her soul magick to make it happen, but she can now have ‘Rus appear outside her head from time to time. Perhaps she can have him help her in fights now, more than just giving advice and warnings… she’ll have to practice, and so will Lazarus—who is very unused to having a body.

“Lazzie… this is… incredible, kiddo. You’ve really got a hang of that soul magick thing, huh? Definitely enough to keep entertaining me, at least.” Lazarus says.

“Yeah, well, I really wanted to see my friend, you, and so I just made sure that it would be possible.” Medea shrugs. “I’m just glad my work paid off.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Nearing the end of March, Ducra pulls her aside to explain something to her.

“You have had questions, Medea, about why you have been granted so many opportunities so soon in your time here. I think it is time you learn the precise answer.”

“And that would be…?”

“There was a Seer here who has since passed on, but there was a time where she Saw into the future and found a dark world, overtaken by the Untitled. Because of this, I have long known that there would be a day where the All Caste as a whole is no longer able to keep the Untitled at bay,

but then, years after that first Sight of the future, that Seer Saw something else. She Saw hope. She Saw you, Medea. You have been Seen to be the world’s last hope at defeating the Untitled once and for all. You have a greater willpower than any other in the All Caste, greater magickal potential than most here—though admittedly with a focus on certain types—and you have a greater strength of mind than I have seen in many years.

We knew that one day you would arrive, just in time to learn all you need to be successful in eradicating the Untitled, and the Seer knew that you would be led here by Talia. That is why she was allowed to keep her knowledge of the Acres even though she failed to become a member of the All Caste, she was to lead you here to us.

It is a heavy duty I am putting upon you by sharing this information, but I felt you deserved to know. Worry not, though, you are already doing exactly what you need to be doing in order to prepare for the responsibility that has been Seen to be yours.” Ducra explains to her.

“That’s…” Medea isn’t sure how to respond. What exactly is she supposed to do now that she’s finding out she’s some sort of… prophesied chosen one? “…a lot.”

What does it mean that she’s the only one who can eradicate the Untitled? What’s going to happen to the All Caste? Will they be able to assist her but not end the Untitled? Will they be able to trap the Untitled but maybe not kill them for good, and that’s what she’s meant to do and why she’s needed? But then… what that Seer Saw about a future overtaken by the Untitled… where was the All Caste in that?

“Yes,” Ducra, “It is much to deal with. Take the rest of the day to wrap your head around it, you seem unfocused enough currently to be a hazard with a weapon if I were to send you off to training as usual, and neither of us want that.”

“Ah, you’re right, thank you…”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“Are you alright, darling? You weren’t at training today.” Naia asks, carding a hand through Medea’s hair as they lay in Naia’s bed together. “What did the All-Mother wish to speak to you about?”

“…apparently, I’m some sort of prophesied chosen one, I guess… a Seer has Seen that I am going to be the world’s last hope at defeating the Untitled and keeping the world from being overtaken and the future from being bleak and dark. I’m… worried. I know I was Seen to be the one who’ll keep the world safe from the Untitled… but what if I can’t do it? What if—”

Naia cuts her off, “You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met, Medea. Don’t worry about the what-if’s. You have the skills, just hone them, and believe in yourself.” Naia presses a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Yeah… you’re probably right,” Medea sighs, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Naia. I’m so happy to have you in my life… thank you.”

“Of course, Medea. And I am happy to have you in my life,” Naia smiles.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

By late April, Medea has successfully passed two more mastery trials. One for soulekinesis, and one for soul magick overall.

Now decorating her outer right forearm is a magically given tattoo of an ornate hourglass surrounded by both lilies and some All Caste runes marking this tattoo as one obtained for a soulekinesis mastery. Meanwhile, on her left upper thigh, is a tattoo that looks exactly like the ornate tombstone she was buried under—though where her name and death date were on the tombstone, the tattoo has replaced that with runes to mark it as a soul magick mastery tattoo.

If she throws herself into focusing, she can get the last four masteries she wants before she goes to visit home for her 17th birthday. Hemokinesis and blood magick next, umbrakinesis and umbramagick after that. She already knows bits and pieces about each, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to get the four masteries in as many months so long as she prioritizes properly.

For now, though, Naia is taking her out on a date to celebrate her two latest masteries, and Medea needs to get ready for that—she’s so not wearing her training gear to a botanical garden date.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

In mid May, about six months since Medea gained her All Blades, she finally beats Essence in a sparring match. For the past two or so months, she’s been able to bring most of their matches to a tie, not winning against Essence but not letting Essence win against her often either. Now, though, she’s got Essence knocked to the ground with her All Blades crisscrossed in front of her throat.

Letting her blades retreat into her soul, Medea holds a hand out to help Essence up off the ground.

“You’ve come a long way, Medea,” Essence says, “Good job.”

“Thank you,” Medea replies, “I would never have gotten this far so soon if it weren’t for your help, though.”

“Perhaps not,” Essence agrees, “But you’d have gotten this far eventually.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“Naia,” Medea starts one night, “do you ever wonder what life would be like if the Untitled and the All Caste just… didn't exist? I mean, we’re training so hard to keep the world safe from the Untitled, and you and I are the youngest ones here… like, do you think we’d be in a normal high school learning normal subjects without the added magick and weapons training if not for the Untitled needing defeat, if not for the All Caste?”

“I think…” Naia considers, “…we couldn’t have a ‘normal’ anything if we tried. That’s just not who you are, who I am.”

“Yeah,” Medea laughs, “I think you’re right about that. It’s fine, anyway, I wouldn’t really want to change what I’ve got here. The All Caste is brilliant, I’m learning so much, doing so many exciting things. …meeting so many wonderful people,” Medea pulls Naia close and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I do wonder just how different life would be if the Untitled didn’t exist and the All Caste wasn’t necessary to fight them—only sometimes, though. It doesn’t really matter.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

She passes the hemokinesis mastery trial in early June, and the All Caste magicks mark her with an anatomical heart that has a sword stabbed through it. Growing up and twisting around the sword are several flowers, and on the parts of the blade that are visible there’s a line of runes marking this tattoo as one for a hemokinesis mastery.

Later, towards the end of June, she gains her mastery in blood magick overall. For her efforts she is given a magickal tattoo on her left hand, a rose on the back of it with stems covered in thorns trailing off the rose and up her fingers, concentrated on stemming up her middle finger most heavily. In the middle of the stems there are thin lines of All Caste runes marking this as a blood magick mastery tattoo.

That night, after her blood magick mastery trial, Medea spends a lot of time looking in the mirror, tracing over all the magickal tattoos she’s gained in her time here. She still has two more masteries she wants to achieve… she wonders where the magicks will choose to place those tattoos, and what they’ll be of. So far, there hasn’t been a design decorating her body that she doesn’t love.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Shadow travel, Medea learns, is perhaps the best form of travel. It felt weird at first when she began to learn it, but now, halfway through July, she’s gotten quite the hang of it, and shadow travel has swiftly become one of her favorite aspects of umbramagick.

She can’t yet travel great distances, it seems so far she can only travel between shadows within the city she’s already in—or what counts as a city, like the Acres of All—or, if not trying to stay within the city, then she can travel the equivalent of about an hour away if going by car, and that can get quite tiring to do more than once. Medea hopes that with time and practice, she can push those limits and travel much further while using much less energy to do so.

Unlike Essence, she’s not got a unique physiology that makes disappearing into shadows second nature to her, but slowly it’s become more natural and easier to meld with the shadows despite the fact that she’s entirely human.

She can’t wait until her next visit home, she’s going to have so much fun disappearing and reappearing on Damian—the possibilities she has are endless, she’ll be able to get away with so many pranks. Until he catches on to the fact that she can travel via shadows, but oh well. Medea’ll have her fun while she can.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Late July sees Medea with another mastery, this one in umbrakinesis. Once she passed the trial, the Chamber magicks sunk into her skin and left her with a tattoo on the side of her left calf. The tattoo design is of the phases of the moon, all quite detailed—they’re very pretty—and all strung together by a line of All Caste runes going down the middle of the moon phases to mark it as an umbrakinesis mastery tattoo.

Just one more mastery she’d like to achieve now, and Medea is perfectly on track to gain it before she leaves to visit home for her birthday.

So that’s what she does, and not even a week into August she gets her mastery in umbramagick overall. Now there’s a magickal tattoo adorning her the side of her right calf, this one with a sun at the top of the tattoo, and water at the bottom of the tattoo, with Icarus in the middle, falling. The feather both on and falling off of his wings have small runes on them, marking this as being for her passing her umbramagick mastery trial.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“Why are you being so hesitant to go home?” Naia asks as Medea is packing some of her things to leave for a week or so to spend her 17th birthday at home. “I know you miss your family, I’d have thought you’d be out of here already, eager to visit home and see them again.”

“I do miss them! I miss them so much and I’m really excited to go see them again. But I’ve just got such a bad feeling… like something is going to happen if I leave.” Medea sighs.

“What could possibly happen?” Naia says, “The All Caste is secure, it will remain that way. No member of the All Caste would ever betray it, so there is nothing to worry about, darling. If I had to guess, I’d say knowing that little prophetic vision of you that that Seer had is making you anxious to leave for so long. Try to relax. You’re about to go visit your family, that’s a happy thing for you.”

“Hm, you may be right about that…” Medea replies, “but still, I just can’t shake this feeling that I’m going to come back and everything will be… different, destroyed. Gone.”

“If it’s worrying you so much, will you relax and go enjoy your visit home if I promise I’ll take care of everything in your absence? You trust me, don’t you? Trust me enough to believe me when I say I won’t let any harm come to the things, or the people, that I care about.” Naia says softly.

“Okay… yeah, okay, I trust you.” Medea nods. “Thank you, Naia,” Medea turns and kisses Naia briefly, “I love you,”

“I love you too, so much,” Naia pulls Medea back in for another kiss.

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“I’m home!” Medea singsongs, entering the dining room where Talia, Damian, and Ra’s have all just sat down for dinner.

“I will pay you to turn around right now and go back to the All Caste.” Ra’s says.

“Wow, really feeling the love gramps,” Medea grins.

“Welcome home, habibti,” Talia greets.

“Dea!” Damian smiles, “You’re finally back!”

“Well I couldn’t not come back home to spend my birthday with my family,” Medea says, “Now come here, tayir saghir, I’ve missed you,” Medea opens her arms for a hug, catching Damian when the kid all but throws himself at her in a very undignified manner, but no one here will give him shit for it, not under the circumstances.

“Dea, you must tell me everything that you’ve done since the last time you called,” Damian demands, “I want to know it all.”

“Dinner first, Dames,” Medea leads him back to his seat, “Then I’ll tell you all that I can.”

They don’t actually make it all the way through dinner before Medea is sharing the latest updates from her time with the All Caste.

“You’ll have to bring this Naia girl with you next time, shabah saghir,” Talia says, “I must make sure she’s worthy of your heart.”

“She’s really been wonderful to me so far, ummi, you don’t gotta worry,” Medea assures, “She’s… she loves me, and I love her.”

“Still, I’d like to meet her.”

“Of course,” Medea nods, “next time I visit home, I’ll ask her to join me.”

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“Happy birthday, ukhti!” “Happy birthday, abnati,” “Happy birthday, brat.” Medea is greeted by Damian, Talia, and Ra’s at once as she joins them for breakfast on her birthday.

“Thank you,” Medea smiles, “Good morning,”

“Would you like to eat breakfast first, or open the gifts we’ve gotten you first?” Talia asks.

Medea glances at Damian who is doing an admirable job of pretending he isn’t impatiently waiting for her to open her gifts, and decides not to make him wait any longer, “Gifts first, I think.”

“Very well,” Talia nods, “Damian, go ahead get your sister the gift you picked for her.”

Damian makes quick work of grabbing a gift off the side table in the dining room, not wasting any time in bringing it over and setting it in front of Medea.

Opening it up, Medea finds a collection of moss agate jewelry sets in silver, copper, and gold. The sets include rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and hair sticks.

“Akhi, these are lovely,” Medea smiles, “the craftsmanship of these is incredible.” She sets the jewelry aside and pulls Damian in for a hug. “Thank you,”

“You’re welcome, Dea!”

“Here habibti,” Talia hands her another gift, “this one is from me.”

Medea opens it, “Are these…”

“A damascus steel tri edge kris blade dagger, and a custom designed ornate athame? Yes, they are.” Talia answers.

“Ummi, thank you so much,” Medea says, “these are wonderful.”

“There is another part to your gift from me,” Talia tells her, “Whenever you are ready for it, I will help you enroll in any college you choose, and I shall cover your tuition entirely—though, with how brilliant you are, I am sure you will get scholarships as well, abnati. Just let me know when and where, and the college of your choice is yours.”

“Ummi…” Medea doesn’t say anymore, just pulls Talia in for a hug. She was just gifted the promise of a dream come true.

“Here,” Ra’s passes over a gift, “I figured this would be something that caught your interest.”

Medea quickly unwraps the gift from Ra’s to find an old leather bound book with runes carved into the leather and small sapphires inlaid into gold corner pieces. She recognizes the runes as the ones used by the All Caste.

“How did… where did you… this is…” Medea is very confused, but also very appreciative that she got the gift, “Thank you, Ra’s.”

“It was discovered recently in a set of ruins, no one could decipher those runes, but I thought perhaps you might recognize them, and if not that you’d appreciate the challenge of finding out.”

The rest of her birthday goes by wonderfully, she has a lot of fun spending time with her family, and at the end of the day she gets gifts from Lazarus and Death as well. Lazarus gifts her the promise of teaching her a lost martial arts skill, and Death takes her to see the live—well, dead?—action play of Shakespeare’s latest work in the afterlife.

Yeah, it’s a damn good birthday.

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Medea doesn’t stay too long before she makes her way back to the Acres of All. She may have achieved the masteries she wanted to, and she may have learned to wield her All Blades quite well, but there is always more to learn, and she misses Naia and the other friends she’s made while there. Of course, she misses her family practically the moment she says goodbye to them, but she’ll be back to visit soon. Now that she won’t be training for practically every waking hour, she’ll have a lot more free time to return home on occasion.

Of course, Medea could never have expected the sight that would greet her when she steps past the magick guarding the Acres.

Everything is destroyed. There’s blood covering the floors, the walls. Bodies are strewn about, the bodies of her fellow All Caste members, her teachers and her friends, people she’s gotten to know quite well in the time she’s been here. There are fires still burning, some of this destruction must have been fairly recent. There could still be people here, the people who did this.

Medea has her guard up instantly, summoning the All Blades to her hands without a moment’s hesitation.

That’s when she hears it, the sound of footsteps, several people if she had to guess, leading towards the Chamber of All.

Sinking into the shadows, Medea uses them to travel and beat the enemies to the Chamber. S’aru is lying dead at the gates, but the gates themselves are closed. Medea sinks into the shadows under them and slides inside the Chamber. She doesn’t think the enemies would have closed the gates behind them, so that means they haven’t gotten inside yet—and if she can barricade the gates from within, they’re much less likely to make it inside.

Given all the death and destruction around her, Medea really should have expected it, and yet—nothing could’ve prepared her for seeing Ducra like this, bloodied and lifeless, laying on the cold ground.

Medea collapses to her knees, falling to the ground. The tears that had begun welling up in her eyes at the sight of the Acres of All and the other members of the All Caste dead and strewn about threaten to spill over at the sight of Ducra like this, at the knowledge that actually, someone had made it inside the Chamber.

There’s only a few people that Medea knows that could get in and out without opening the gates. Most of them she already saw out in the—the results of the fucking massacre that took place. Most of them are dead now.

That leaves two people who could get in in a way similar to her shadow travel. Essence—with her unique physiology and ability to turn into smoke—is one of the two, but Medea knows Essence well enough to know she would never do this to her mother. Never. And besides—Essence is also away from the All Caste, on a mission, and she isn’t meant to be back until a few days from now.

And with Essence out of the way… the only person capable of getting in and back out without opening the gates who Medea hasn’t already seen lying dead outside the Chamber or who she hasn’t reasoned out… is Naia. She’s got a unique physiology of her own, she didn’t tell Medea the specifics but Medea knows she’s a being composed of water.

But Naia would never…

At that moment, the doors to the Chamber of All swing open. In her distraction and grief, Medea hadn’t yet gotten around to barricading them.

The sound of heels and heavy boots click and stomp across the floor. Medea looks up and it’s her fears confirmed that greets her sight.

Naia is there, looking mostly unharmed, and she’s standing with the Untitled as if she’s one of them. Medea feels sick.

Something in Naia falters when her eyes land on Medea kneeling next to Ducra’s corpse, “Darling… I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon.”

“You… you did this. You caused all of this.” Medea chokes out, holding back tears.

“…yes, I did.” Naia confirms, wholly unapologetic for her actions, but hating to cause Medea such grief.

“Why? How could you betray the All Caste like this? How could you betray us?” Medea grips her All Blades so tightly that her knuckles start turning white. “How could you betray me?”

“You’d do anything for your family,” Naia says, “and I would do anything for mine,” she gestures to the members of the Untitled who are at her side.

“You never did talk about your family,” Medea lets out a shaky exhale.

“No, I didn’t.” Naia agrees. “It was most opportune, you know, that I was born when I was. Only seventeen—almost eighteen now—years ago… my aunt Ducra,” she rolls her eyes, “never knew I existed, so it was quite easy to just… never mention my father, or my other aunts and uncles. Let you all make assumptions while slipping under the radar.”

“You’ve been plotting this since you’ve arrived with the All Caste,” Medea realizes. “How in the world did you make it past the trials?” It shouldn’t have been possible… there’s no way Naia could’ve made it all the way through the Ritual of Cleansing if she really had been planning this betrayal from the very start.

“Oh, that’s simple. I only made it past the first two trials. The rest of it was just a matter of using my unique physiology to slip in and watch someone else going through their trials and cleansing and passing them, so that way I could use magick to copy the light shows and give myself the right tattoos.” Naia says, “There’s a reason I never went for any masteries despite all I’ve learned, the Chamber magicks wouldn't have let me go through the mastery trials.”

“…was any of your time here real?” Medea isn’t sure what answer she’d rather hear.

“Of course, darling. Not much, and not in the beginning, but some of it became quite real. My love for you is real.” Naia steps closer to where Medea is still kneeling by Ducra and lays a hand on her cheek, tilting Medea’s head up. “I knew from the start that you, the only human to make it into the All Caste, would be quite special indeed. You were guaranteed to be powerful. At first, I wanted to be close to you so I could use you. But then… I got to know you, darling, and I could never use you once I realized I had fallen in love with you for real.”

“I trusted you,” Medea locks eyes with Naia, “and you went and betrayed me. If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

“Medea, darling, if I didn’t love you, you’d be dead like the rest of them. I waited until you went home, though. I love you too much to see you dead.” Naia shakes her head. “And I love my family too much to not help get rid of the only organization that stands a true threat to us. The All Caste had to go, darling. It’s time for us Untitled to rule. With my foolish aunt taken care of, all I must do now is find and kill my equally foolish cousin, and the All Caste will be no more.”

“You’re wrong,” Medea says firmly, “Unless you kill me for good, the All Caste will always exist. I’m a member of the All Caste and I’ll ensure it lives on.”

“You don’t have to be a member of the All Caste, though,” Naia says, “Join me, darling. Help me and my family, rule by our side. I’ll give you everything you could want and more when the world is ours.”

“Naia… I love you… but no. I’ll never join you. This is wrong, what you and your family are doing is wrong. And I will stop at nothing to keep the world safe from you. And I’m not your darling anymore, I stopped being your darling the moment you chose to betray me, to betray the All Caste.” With that said, Medea brings one of her All Blades up to stab into Naia’s leg.

“It’s cute that you think you can stop us,” Naia smiles, “all because of what? Some vision a Seer had? The future isn’t set in stone, Medea,” Naia leans down, ignoring her fresh injury, and places a kiss on Medea’s lips, “We’ll be seeing you around, darling.”

With that, Naia steps back, and she and the rest of the Untitled disappear in a flash of magick. Medea finally lets her tears fall, choking out screams between her sobbing.

Chapter Text

That’s how Essence finds her when she arrives two days later; on her knees in the Chamber of All, a mess of dried up tears, throat aching from all her earlier screaming, choked up sobs. Medea is so entrenched in her grief that she doesn’t notice Essence until she is sitting down beside her. To Medea, the days had passed in a blurry haze, and not even Lazarus’ voice in her head had been able to pull her from her grief.

Essence doesn’t say anything at first when she sits down, just pulls Medea against her in a half-hug.

Several moments pass before Essence speaks, “They’ll pay for this. We’ll hunt them down, and they’ll pay for this.”

“Yes,” Medea croaks out, voice hoarse from disuse and her sobbing, “they will.”

“Help me give our people a proper send off?” Essence asks. “…help me give my mother a proper funeral?” Her voice breaks a bit at that, eyes watering as she glances to where Ducra’s body still lies.

“Of course,” Medea nods, but neither she nor Essence move to get up off the ground, instead staying wrapped up in their hug, each offering their own silent comfort to each other, the last two surviving members of the All Caste. They’ll get to the proper funeral rites later, for now, they will share in their grief, mourning what they lost.

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It takes them a couple weeks to get through the proper rites for all the fallen members of the All Caste. As they do, Medea and Essence do their best to clean up some of the rubble around the Acres as well. By the end of August, they’ve performed the proper funeral rites for everyone who passed in the massacre. Death herself even visited Medea to assure her that those of the All Caste were being cared for in death, and treated with the utmost respect in her realms. It doesn’t get rid of the grief, but it does… ease it, somewhat.

“Now what do we do?” Medea asks, sounding more weary than a 17 year old ever should, but there’s nothing to be done about that, given all that’s happened.

“We go after the Untitled, and we don’t stop until they’re eradicated.” Essence answers firmly. “And then… we try to rebuild. We are all that remains of the All Caste, all that remains of the group my mother created and led. I do not wish to see it die with us, so we will rebuild, eventually.”

“You’ll make a great leader when we do rebuild,” Medea comments.

“And you will make a great teacher, one day,” Essence replies.

“You think so?” Medea leans against Essence, looking out at the rising sun from where she and Essence are sitting atop a cliffside somewhere in the Acres of All.

“Yes,” Essence answers easily, leaving no room for any arguments. Not that Medea would have tried. Essence doesn’t say anything she doesn’t mean. If she thinks Medea will one day make a great teacher when they finally are able to rebuild the All Caste, then that’s that.

“Then I’ll do my best to make those who came before me in the All Caste proud,” and to make you proud as well, she thinks, but doesn’t say aloud.

“I doubt you’ll need to try very hard.”

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As August comes to an end, Medea prepares to go back home. Until they start to rebuild, it won’t do either her or Essence any good to simply wallow in the Acres of All. They need to be out in the world, listening for any news that could help them to track down the Untitled. Medea isn’t quite sure what she’ll do when she next sees Naia. She’ll have no problem eradicating the others of the Untitled, but Naia… her betrayal struck deep, but Medea knew her, loved her, for quite some time. She’ll do what she must, she’ll eradicate Naia if Essence doesn’t get to her first, but will she be able to do it as mentally easily as she will the rest of the Untitled? Medea doesn’t know.

Perhaps it’s this unsureness, this wondering about their next meeting, that has Medea going to Naia’s room before she leaves the Acres.

Ducra’s words ring out in her mind as she steps into Naia’s room, ‘You have been Seen to be the world’s last hope at defeating the Untitled once and for all.’ When she had told Naia, she had given Medea reassurance in her skills, telling her not to worry. What did Naia think, hearing that Medea would be the one who could—would—eradicate her and her family? What went through her mind in that moment?

She should never have gone home for her birthday. She had a feeling it would end badly, and she was right. But Naia had urged her to go, and she really had wanted to see her family again, so she shoved the bad feeling aside. Now, she wonders if that bad feeling was some sort of early Death Sense kicking in. If she had stayed, could she have changed the outcome? Could she have saved at least some of the All Caste? Or… or was it their time, and there was nothing that could’ve been done…

Medea doesn’t know, and it won’t do her any favors to dwell on the what ifs. But knowing what she knows now, after the massacre, Naia’s words the day she left for home take on a much different meaning.

‘No member of the All Caste would ever betray it,’ she had said. Well, apparently she wasn’t a member of the All Caste after all, so she was right about that. ‘I promise I’ll take care of everything,’ ‘Trust me,’ ‘I won’t let any harm come to the things, or the people, that I care about,’ Naia had sworn. Medea supposes none of it was really a lie. Naia just… didn’t care about what Medea had been led to believe she cared about.

But somehow, in her own twisted way, Naia cared about Medea. And looking around Naia’s room just drives that point home (not that Medea needed it driven home. It already hit her hard enough when she realized Naia cared enough about her to make sure she was entirely out of harm's way when the massacre of the All Caste occurred).

Strung up on Naia’s walls were polaroid prints of the two of them on dates, of candid photos of Medea taken when she wasn’t looking, of blurry pictures Naia and her laughing so hard the camera shook. She had gifts Medea had given her arranged neatly on display atop her dresser.

Sighing sadly, the stinging feeling of betrayal welling up within her again at seeing the proof of Naia’s love for her and knowing that she helped destroy something Medea loved anyway, Medea turned around to leave Naia’s room. However, before she left, something caught her eye.

Sitting on Naia’s bed is a neatly wrapped box covered in a gorgeous vintage floral wrapping paper and a beautifully tied green ribbon. Tied to the ribbon is a hanging tag with ‘For my darling Medea. Happy birthday. Love always, Naia’ scrawled on it in Naia’s flowy handwriting.

Medea sits down on Naia’s bed and grabs the box. Untying the ribbon and unwrapping the paper, Medea opens the box. Inside is a golden cage pendant. Within the cage sits an ancient obol. Medea takes it out of the box, and as she does a note falls out.

Picking up the note, she once more sees something written in Naia’s handwriting. The note reads ‘Darling, I know that one way or another you will be there when I die. When and how that is, I know not, but I believe you will be there for it. I have carried this obol for years, and my father has carried it for far longer. I don’t know what afterlife I’ll end up in, and I’m by no means a woman of faith for any religion, but I’ve always liked the idea of paying the ferryman or even the reaper who takes my soul. So, I am asking you to hold on to this obol for me now, and when I die, send it with me.’

Well now… Medea is half tempted to destroy the obol pendant. Naia betrayed her, after all, and led to the massacre of practically the entire All Caste. But… Medea loved her, once, not long ago at all, and besides, she of all people knows how important respecting death rites is.

Medea sighs, and puts the golden pendant with the obol sitting in its cage around her neck. It sits comfortably and looks as though it was made for her. Which, Medea supposes, it must have been.

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“Habibti? What are you doing home so soon?” Talia asks when she sees Medea walking down the hall to her room.

Medea turns to face her mother, and that’s all it takes for tears to well up in her eyes as she thinks back on the reason why she’s back home already rather than still at the Acres of All.

“Medea, shabah saghir, what troubles you?” Talia pulls her into a hug, running a hand through her hair comfortingly.

“They’re gone, ummi,” Medea cries, “they’re all gone, and she—she’s the reason. Naia betrayed them—us—betrayed me. It’s… it’s just me and Essence left. The All Caste is all but eradicated entirely.”

“Oh abnati,” Talia hums, “I am so sorry.”

“I can’t believe she would— I thought that she— Ummi, I loved her,” Medea chokes out between her crying.

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When she allows herself to think about it, Medea can’t help but wonder if Naia thinks it was worth it or not. Does she have regrets? Is she happy with how it all went down? Medea doesn’t know what Naia would be thinking about it all now. At one point, she would have had a guess. But at one point, she also would have thought Naia would never betray her or the All Caste, least of all like this.

And to be quite honest, Medea isn’t sure if she really wants to know the answer to what Naia thinks of everything. She’s pretty sure the answer will only make it worse.

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Halfway through September, after Medea spent a couple weeks at home crushed by grief and consumed by a feeling of betrayal, Talia brings up an idea at dinner that night while they all—Talia, Damian, Ra’s, and Medea—are sitting around the table.

“Abnati, how would you like to travel the world for a little while?”

“How do you mean?” Medea asks.

“You are grieving, as you deserve to be, but more than that you are wallowing.” Talia says. “I do not like to see you wallowing, Medea. I think you would enjoy the chance to travel. I can even organize for you to have some teachers in the different places to travel to, if you would like. Not to mention that you have been wanting the chance to track down the Untitled, haven’t you? Perhaps you will come across them in your travels.”

“You… have a point…” Medea concedes.

“If you want my suggestion, you should take a bit—a year, perhaps. Travel, learn more things. Take time to continue grieving but stop wallowing. Remember your fallen fellow members, carry on their legacy but don’t let it crush you in doing so. Avenge them, but do not allow yourself to go down a path of revenge that you can’t come back from. Continue to live your own life, Medea.” Talia tells her.

“Yes,” Ra’s agrees, “Listen to your mother, brat. She gives good advice and you’d be wise to take it. Losing friends, allies, your community… you are right to grieve for them, and you are right to feel betrayed. But do not let this… unworthy harpy’s betrayal shatter you. Build yourself back up. I know for a fact you’re stubborn enough to do so.”

“Ummi and grandfather are correct, Dea,” Damian adds, “and you’ve always talked about wanting to see the world someday. You should go. I’ll miss you, but you will just need to improve the distance you can travel by shadows so that you can return far more often. And you can’t improve if you’re still wallowing, so you need to go in order to stop wallowing and improve your skills. It will be good for you… and I think it will help you feel better mentally as well… I don’t like seeing you so sad, ukhti.”

“Alright,” Medea gives the first smile she has in days at the sound of her family’s overwhelming support and wishes for her to feel better, “I think… traveling sounds nice. Maybe… France first? And then I’ll figure it out from there. But my mama Catherine always talked about going to France one day, when we had enough money… she never got to go…”

“France is more than doable, habibti. Would you like me to find a teacher in France for you, or would you rather just enjoy a vacation there?” Talia asks.

“In the All Caste, it was always said that no matter what, you should never stop seeking to learn more,” Medea reminisces, “I think having a teacher, having something to learn, would be nice.”

“Then I shall arrange something for you. Come with me after dinner tonight, and we can plan your travels in more detail.” Talia says. “Do you know how long you would like to travel for?”

“I’d like to return home for my eighteenth birthday, and then I’d like to go to college right after that. So, I’ll travel for just under a year.” Medea answers.

“A wonderful idea. Do you have a college in mind?” Ra’s asks. “I can make sure you will get in without issue, but I’m sure you’ll do so on your own merits anyway, clever brat that you are.”

“No, not yet. There are many good ones to choose from, after all. I’ll figure it out soon, though, I’m sure. Thank you, gramps.” Medea replies.

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“And you have everything you wanted to bring? Everything you need?” Talia checks.

“Yes ummi,” Medea nods, “I triple checked already.”

“Good.” Talia says. “Have a safe trip, shabah saghir. Enjoy your time in Avignon.”

“Thank you,” Medea smiles, “I’m sure I will.”

“You’ll come back to visit before you go off to the next place on your travel list, right ukhti?” Damian asks.

“Of course, tayir saghir,” Medea replies, “and I’ll call often as well. In fact, I’ll call and visit you so often you’ll be sick of me and just begging me to go back to my travels!” Medea exaggerates, being overly dramatic.

Damian smiles, “That’s silly, Dea, I would never be sick of you.”

“You say that now, but just you wait Dames,” Medea laughs.

“I expect updates on how your training and education are progressing while you are away. In fact, I expect updates on your travels in general.” Ra’s says. “Just to ensure the teachers that your mother has procured for you are not going to waste, of course.”

“Oh of course,” Medea agrees, “I mean, why else would you want me to check in. Obviously, it’s just about the resources I’m using.”

“Obviously, brat.”

“Thank you, grandfather.”

“…you are welcome, granddaughter.”

Finishing with her goodbyes, Medea grabs the bags she had packed and brings them out to the car she’ll be riding in to the airport. Technically, Medea could ask any of the various employees around the place to do it for her, since she is an Al Ghul, and they are employed to serve her family, but Medea hasn’t—and likely never will—gotten out of the habit of doing her own menial tasks and chores herself.

Honestly, she’d’ve driven herself to the airport if Talia hadn't insisted on having one of the drivers take her instead. She’ll admit that she appreciates the thought. Besides, she wasn’t about to argue over being driven to the airport when she already had to convince Talia that she’d be fine using an actual airport to travel because she wanted the experience of one rather than the private family jet.

Waving one last goodbye to Talia, Damian, and Ra’s, Medea gets into the car and pulls out one of her books. It will take a while to get to the airport, so she should be able to get through a good amount of this book, and then finish it on the plane.

Smiling to herself, Medea settles in for the ride. Things aren’t perfect, there is still the looming sense of grief in the back of her mind, but… these travels might just make things start to feel a whole lot better.

Chapter Text

Her plan is to spend roughly a month, maybe two, in each place she travels to. To make her timeline work, that’s about ten whole months, so ten places at most. Medea plans to make the most of these next ten months. She won’t have long to learn from the teachers Talia has arranged for her to learn from in each place, but she thinks a month will be enough for her to get a grasp on the basics of each new thing at least.

Before she makes it to Avignon, Medea makes a stop in Sault. It’s nearing the end of September, and she wants to visit the lavender fields before the season for it here is over.

It is in Sault that she meets with Jeanette Rousseau: resident of Avignon, owner of a quaint herbal apothecary shop, licensed toxicologist, and under the radar proficient poisons mistress. Also, Medea’s first teacher during her planned travels.

After visiting the lavender fields, Mademoiselle Rousseau gives Medea a ride with her to Avignon—Medea will be staying with her rather than in a hotel, for free provided she helps out around the shop in the month she’ll be spending here.

Mademoiselle Rousseau is a sprightly old woman with greying hair. Stern, but more than fair, and definitely kind. Honestly, she reminds Medea a bit of Ducra, but she doesn’t want to think about that too much right now.

“Viens, fille. Il y a du travail à faire.” Mlle. Rousseau says.

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Medea spends her time in Avignon working in Mlle. Rousseau’s herbal apothecary shop during the weekdays, using her lunch breaks to eat at local cafes while studying general schoolwork—so that she doesn’t fall behind in this gap year before college, not that she really needs to worry about that, being so far ahead of others her age already.

Then in the evenings those days, once the shop closes, she learns all about poisons from Mlle. Rousseau—mixing poisons, which plants are poisonous, effects of different poisons, how to make antidotes for various poisons, and more. Only the basics of each thing, but she learns many things about poisons in her time there.

On the weekends, she explores Avignon, sometimes taking day trips to nearby towns as well. She really enjoyed seeing the gorgeous architecture of the Palais des Papes.

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“Bonjour! Bienvenue à Envoûté Apothicaire!” Medea greets. Working in Mlle. Rousseau’s shop has given her so much practice with her French that she’s definitely fluent in it now. “Comment puis-je vous aider aujourd’hui?”

“Uhm, bonjour, est-que tu a une… uh, jar, de…” the guy who walked in looks down at a paper in his hand, “…achillée?” He stumbles through the pronunciation.

Medea makes a guess that she’s pretty confident she’s correct about, “American, I’m guessing? Don’t know much French yet?”

“Ah, yeah. No, I don’t know much French at all,” the guy sighs. “Trying to learn but I’ve never been any good with languages. Sometimes it feels like I barely know English very well,” he laughs.

Medea laughs, “So, you’re looking for a jar of yarrow then?”

“Yes, please, if you’ve got some.”

“Definitely we do! Anything else you’re looking for while you’re here?” Medea asks.

“No, that’s all. Uhm, merci beaucoup!”

“De rien! But just a tip for you, you’re pronouncing the ‘p’ in ‘beaucoup’ way too much. It’s softer, almost not there at all in the pronunciation really.”

“Ah, thanks, I’ll work on that. And thanks for the yarrow. How much for it?”

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“Very good, you have the potential to one day be quite proficient in poisons. You have already learned much more than I thought you would in this time.” Mlle. Rousseau tells her.

“Thank you, Mademoiselle. I can only hope to one day be as proficient as you.” Medea says.

“Pah, you flatter me. And you know I think flattery is useless. Keep working at it, you either will or you won’t achieve that goal. I know I am masterful with poisons, you don’t need to tell me that.”

Medea laughs, “Yes, of course.”

“Now,” Mlle. Rousseau says, “October is coming to an end, and so too is your month here in Avignon with me. Go get packing.”

“I’ll miss it here. You’ve been a wonderful teacher, and working in your shop has been fun. Thank you for your hospitality,” Medea smiles.

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She’s met at the airport when she lands in Germany by a middle aged woman with brown hair tied neatly in a bun. This woman is her next teacher, Odelia Weimann, resident of Putgarten, a municipality in Rügen. She’s a potter to the wider public, selling beautiful works of art, and a bomb technician to those who need something blown up. Medea will be staying with her in Putgarten for the month of November, learning all about building bombs, as well as disposing of them.

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Aside from learning about bombs, Medea learns that Odelia likes chess, and that she’s even better at it than Ra’s is. Since finding that playing chess is a shared interest of theirs, Medea and Odelia have had a game of chess going at every meal together in Odelia’s house.

They play for bragging rights at first, but then, as the games go on, they play for real prizes. Medea got a nice new outfit from one of the times she won a game.

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When Medea learns about a group of human traffickers who stopped in a town a few hours away, she makes a day trip to the town, rescues the individuals they had been trafficking without them noticing, and then puts what she’s been learning about bombs to good use, and blows up their entire base, with the traffickers inside.

With Odelia’s help, she gets the trafficking victims set up with everything they need to make it back to their homes.

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She spends December in Denmark, staying in Faaborg with her latest teacher, Elias Foss. He’s a pilot, and so Medea will be learning all about piloting various aircrafts. She’s actually really looking forward to it.

The first week she’s there they don’t actually get up in the air. Instead, Elias has Medea going over all the basic handbooks for piloting the different aircrafts that he owns and will be teaching her how to fly.

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Outside of learning to pilot aircrafts, she also learns to play the violin. Elias’ late husband had been a talented violinist, but since his passing his violins have been sitting around. Not collecting dust—Elias would never allow anything of his late husband’s to fall into disrepair of any sort—but remaining entirely unused. Elias just doesn’t have the heart to learn to play, that was always his husband’s talent, and even cleaning the violins brings back an ache to Elias’ heart at the thought that his husband is no longer around to care for them himself.

So, when he noticed that the music room in his house had caught Medea’s eye, he told her as long as no harm came to the violins, she was welcome to learn how to play them, but that he himself didn’t know so he couldn’t teach her.

Medea used her necromancy to summon the spirit of Elias’ late husband, and asked him to teach her. She kept him summoned long enough for Elias to speak with him as well. It was a very touching moment.

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By the time she’s only got about a week left in Denmark, Medea has learned a lot from Elias. And she’s found herself to be quite adept at piloting rotorcraft, specifically compound helicopters.

But also around that time, she’s noticed that Elias has started acting… weird. Not like himself at all. One day, her death sense was going crazy and so she had warned Elias to be careful. In fact, she stayed close to her piloting teacher all day that day, and… nothing had happened. The next morning, her death sense stopped warning her that anything might happen, so while strange, she figured that perhaps her presence by Elias’ side all day—previously unplanned, she had been intending on going into town instead that day—had prevented his death. But, after that is also when he started acting strangely.

And things only got weirder when she said goodbye to Elias in the morning, watched him leave the house, went to the storage closet for some cleaner when she spilled jam on the carpet, and found Elias’ dead body in there.

So. That afternoon she greets ‘Elias’ with a knife to the throat as soon as he walks in the door. “Who are you? Because I know you aren’t Elias Foss.”

“My niece, Naia, asked me to pass on her hello.” ‘Elias’ says.

“Untitled.” Medea growls. She should have known.

Medea stabs the knife into his throat and quickly summons the All Blades.

“How feisty. You’ll be entertaining to kill.” The Untitled member says.

“You won’t get the chance,” Medea moves to strike with her All Blades, “since I’ll be killing you first.”

The Untitled member drops his disguise as being Elias.

If—no, when she beats him, if there are no more hidden members like Naia once was, then there should only be eight Untitled left. Naia, and the rest of the original Untitled.

As it had been explained to her, the Untitled were an ancient clan of nine brothers and sisters. Ducra broke off from them, taking her daughter with her, and that left eight of them to form the Untitled. Their leader is Drakar, the eldest of the siblings, and Naia’s father. Then, there are Naia's three uncles and four aunts—not including Ducra.

So yes, with this guy gone, and Naia included in the count, then there will be eight Untitled left for her and Essence to track down. Unless of course more of the original Untitled siblings had children, as Drakar had Naia. But then, if there were more, Medea likely would have seen them with the rest of the Untitled in the Chamber of All after the massacre, and it was only Naia, her father, and her aunts and uncles there.

That aside, she has an Untitled to kill now, and she’ll be damned if he leaves here alive.

This Untitled’s skin bubbles, melting away. His limbs grow longer, and bulkier as they are coating in a slimy, bubbling, thick, and nasty substance that is such a dark, muddy brown it looks nearly black. Medea isn’t quite sure what it is specifically, but she can tell it's clearly what the Untitled are made of rather than flesh and blood like she is. Horns twist up from his head, and more eyes form on his face. His fingers become claws and his teeth become as sharp as blades.

He blocks her swinging blade with his claws, and falls back into a fighting stance. Medea can’t wait to drive her All Blades into him and burn away at his life force.

As she settles into a fighting stance of her own, their battle begins, and it feels like a dance with the way their attacks meet, the way they twist out of the way of an incoming blade or claw.

This Untitled is skilled, she’ll give him that. His age let him learn a lot, clearly, but because of that he’s arrogant. Thinks that Medea is a child who’s batting out of her league because of a bullshit Seer’s vision. He thinks that Medea is the one who got overconfident in this fight, and that he’s already won so he may as well have fun toying with her for a bit.

Of course, he’s wrong about that in the end.

The magickal, golden soulfire of her All Blades flares brighter, flames growing in size, as she all but pours some soul magick into it, strengthening the blades. She goes to stab him with one of the blades, and he shifts the nasty, goopy substance of his body to twist away, out of the blade’s reach. It’s exactly the opening she was looking for.

He doesn’t notice the second blade swinging into the path of where he’s moving to dodge the first blade until it’s too late.

The soulfire catches and Medea watches as it spreads, igniting every bit of the sludge-like substance that makes up the Untitled in front of her. His body is slowly burnt away at by the soulfire, a physical representation of the way it’s burning up his life force.

After a long moment, the soulfire burns out, and there is nothing left of that Untitled but some slimy little puddles of his body.

“Good riddance,” Medea mutters, exhausted from the fight.

She puts the All Blades away and sinks to the floor. She’s bleeding from a few deep gashes where she couldn’t avoid his claws, and will definitely have some bruises from the walls and furniture she had been slammed into a few times. But, she didn’t die, and that Untitled did. A smile spreads across her face at that thought.

After resting a bit, and tending to her wounds, Medea cleans the Untitled’s sludge off the floor, and goes about preparing things so Elias can be buried next to his husband. May they find each other in whatever afterlife they’ve ended up in and have an enjoyable eternity together.

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She makes it to Romania just as January starts. She meets up with her next teacher, Andrada Mitrea, in Brașov where she’ll be staying for the month. Andrada is a mechanic, and she’ll be teaching Medea all about how to do basic repairs, and also how to quickly sabotage an enemy’s mode of transportation.

Medea, thinking back to her days of tire thievery, is very, very excited to learn all the other ways she can make a vehicle unusable for a time until it can be fixed. Or, just unusable for good, depending on the sabotage. Plus, it won’t hurt to know how to fix up her own transportation in a pinch if she’s gotta do it herself and do it fast.

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She has enough free time outside of her training during her month in Romania that she’s able to practice her shadow traveling. At one point, she makes it all the way from Brașov to Belgrade in Serbia and back.

Medea is incredibly happy with the improvement in distance. She used to only be able to travel the equivalent of an hour by car, or wherever as long as it was within the city she was already in. But she just traveled the equivalent of about a seven hour car ride and back again. If that’s not a mark of immense improvement with her shadow travel, then she doesn’t know what is.

Honestly, Medea is mostly surprised by the amount of shadows along the way, she only had to use her umbrakinesis a couple times to form some new shadows to slip into without breaking her shadow travel.

But, since she can in fact travel through the shadows she creates with umbramagick, Medea wonders if she can somehow create shadows that will let her travel over oceans… could she one day get good enough at her umbramagick and shadow travel to go from one continent to another across the globe? She guesses that’s something for her to look into later.

For now, she needs a long fucking nap. Traveling to Belgrade and back through shadows took a lot out of her, and she is exhausted. Guess she’ll need to practice with that until it isn’t so exhausting…

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She goes to Greece next, as February is beginning, to a village in Naxos called Apeiranthos. There, she stays with her latest teacher, Heliodora Ariti. She’s a kind woman who runs a small shop that most people don’t notice due to the magick on it making it quite unassuming to anyone without magick of their own. Heliodora is a spell breaker and a magick ritualist, you see. She’s handy with protective magicks and helpful at breaking curses, but she’ll also strip you bare of your own protective magicks and curse you to hell and back if you do something she considers heinous… or even if you just annoy her enough without having any redeeming qualities.

The point is, she’s a master at what is essentially the magickal equivalent of lockpicking and security set up, and she’ll be teaching Medea the basics of everything she knows, in return for Medea helping her run her shop, selling magickal protection charms, breaking curses for a fee, and providing supplies for magickal rituals.

Medea is suddenly very excited that she planned to spend two months here in Apeiranthos. She has a lot to learn from Heliodora, and she can’t wait to learn it.

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For all the people who come to Heliodora’s shop from all over the world, Medea was not expecting it when towards the end of February she saw John fucking Constantine—skilled occult detective and expert magician with a penchant for pissing off the supernatural and making deals with devils and the like—walk into the shop. She only met him once or twice back when she was Robin, and she is so hoping he doesn’t recognize her. What’s he even doing here anyway?

Subtly using her soul magick to scan his for any notable curses that might be staining his soul, Medea doesn’t find any. So then, either some other type of curse that wouldn’t leave a mark on his soul got placed on him and he needs Heliodora to break it, or he’s here for some rare ritual supplies. Because a magician like Constantine can damn well handle his own protective magick, and there’s places closer to him than Greece if he’s looking for just any common ritual supplies.

“Hi there! Welcome to Cures and Curses, can I help you with anything today?” Medea greets, because Heliodora would definitely curse her if she started acting like a subpar sales associate just because there’s a chance Constantine will realize she’s the dead Robin who is decidedly not so dead anymore.

Constantine looks over at her, and Medea suddenly worries he’s already recognized her by the way he’s glancing at her.

“Nice tattoos, kid,” he says, and Medea smiles in relief that no, he didn’t recognize her as the dead, second Robin yet.

“Thanks,” Medea replies. “So, looking for anything in particular here?”

“Yeah, see I ran into some trouble, and, well, I’m hoping you’ve got what I need to fix it. Every other shop I’ve been to hasn’t had it in store. So, have you got any wight—that’s the w-i-g-h-t wight by the way—crypt mold?”

Crypt mold is a magickal mold found in graveyards with a heavy concentration of fresh graves, it grows off of decay, the fresher the decay the more likely it is to grow. It’s poisonous as all hell, so something to handle carefully. It has surprisingly few magickal uses for as potent an ingredient as it can be.

Wight crypt mold in particular has even fewer uses. Wight crypt mold isn’t natural, it’s crypt mold turned into wight crypt mold by a user of necromagick who infused rotting flesh into the mold and then raised that flesh from its rotting state into being the flesh of a wight. Medea is very familiar with the process, considering Heliodora utilized having a necromagick user under her care to get Medea to make some wight crypt mold for her to sell.

She’s also familiar with the few uses it has outside of an easy poison, and so she can take a guess at the reason Constantine would need some to ‘fix some trouble’.

Medea sighs, “Don’t tell me that your ‘trouble’ is a corpse eater.” Corpse eaters are nasty pieces of work, rare undead creatures that dig up graves and consume the corpses within them, shape shifting into the form of whoever they just ate to then venture out and eat living people as well. They smell strongly of rotting flesh, and unshifted they look like some grey amalgamation of stitched together flesh and empty eye sockets, crawling on all fours with jagged bones sticking out of their back, and they’ve got many rows of teeth that are as pointy as nails.

Thankfully, they’re incredibly rare. It takes a great many aspects to align for a corpse eater to form, and those aspects hardly ever align. However, due to their rareness, the ritual to get rid of them and keep them from ever coming back is also incredibly specific with strange and sometimes rare ingredients. Like wight corpse mold.

“Alright then, I won’t tell you,” Constantine says.

Medea sighs again, “Yeah, we’ve got wight crypt mold in the back, I made some just last week, I’ll go get it for you.”

When she gets back to the front of the shop with a jar of wight crypt mold in hand, she asks, “So, the corpse eater is contained right now, right? It’d be pretty stupid if you’ve left it running around to eat more corpses and people.”

“‘Course it’s contained, I’m not that bloody stupid,” Constantine confirms. “You a necromagick user then? Making the wight crypt mold and all.”

“Yeah,” Medea nods, “I am.”

“Neat. Well, cheers,” he says, “how much do I owe you for it?”

She tells him the price, and gets him checked out quickly. She wants him gone before he starts realizing that—

“You know… you look a bit familiar. What’s your name?”

—she looks like someone he’s met before. Fucking damnit.

“Probably just got one of those faces. You can call me Peyton,” she gives him her middle name instead of her first.

“That your real name?” Constantine raises an eyebrow at her.

“Part of it!” She cheers.

“Eh, good enough for me,” he shrugs. “Cheers, Peyton. Maybe I’ll see you around. Thanks again for the crypt mold,” he turns and leaves the shop.

“Ugh,” Medea says, “that was close. Really hoping he didn’t put together why I seem familiar.”

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Thankfully the most interesting thing outside of her training to happen in March is the curse she had to break on some local teenage boys who tried to place a charm on themselves to make them more attractive to girls, but failed so miserably they ended up cursing themselves into attracting aggressive gulls. Watching them run into the shop being chased by a bunch of birds was fucking hilarious and Medea is so glad she’ll be able to go back and watch it again thanks to the security cameras the shop has.

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In April, Medea goes to Aswan, Egypt, where she meets with Darius Rashid, her next teacher—though, teacher isn’t quite accurate. He’s a librarian and magickal archivist, and he’ll give her unrestricted access to his archives in exchange for her help in running the library and keeping the archives organized for the month she’s here.

To Medea, it’s like a dream come true, because Darius’ magick library archive? Comparable to the Library of Alexandria, though far less popular. You need to, shall we say, run in the right circles to even learn of its existence. And Medea, well, she runs in all the right circles to know about it.

She’s only got April, but she imagines she’ll be back several times in the future to explore the magick library archives further.

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She leaves Egypt at the end of April, sadly and reluctantly saying goodbye to Darius and his extensive library, and heads to the Philippines next. She’ll be learning in Basco from Dakila Torres. What specifically will she be learning? Cooking and baking. Dakila knows recipes from all over the world, and Medea specifically asked Talia to arrange a teacher for her to learn more than she already knows about cooking and baking.

Since she was a little girl, for as long as was possible, she’d be in the kitchen with her mama and her dad, Catherine teaching her to cook the few recipes they could afford the ingredients for, and Willis telling her about how to bake the most extravagant pastries he knew of, even if they could only make the occasional cake from some shitty box mix.

And then the cancer got worse, and the money tighter, and there wasn’t really any time for them to be in the kitchen, as a family, with the radio on, dancing to music as they wait for the food in the oven to be finished.

So, she’s always loved cooking and baking, and is happy—eager, really—to learn more about them both.

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May had gone by peacefully, and the start of June finds Medea in Sucre, Bolivia, staying with Mariano Donato, an expert hacker teaching her as much as he can about technology and hacking in the month that she’s here.

If you ask Medea, this June cannot end quick enough. Mariano is fucking asshole. But he’s such a good teacher that leaving early isn’t worth it. She still hates his guts though, and she gets the feeling that the hatred is entirely mutual.

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While in Sucre, Medea uses her free time to look into colleges. A little late, but not late enough that she won’t be able to start in the fall of this year.

After comparing a couple of lists she found online about what universities are considered the top universities globally, and based on what she could find about the English majors at each, she decides on Oxford University.

That night, she calls Talia to let her know her decision, and she sends in an application. A few days later, she receives an email of acceptance, and Talia calls letting her know an acceptance letter showed up at home for her.

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Medea makes her way to Costa Rica in July. When she gets there, she heads to Tronadora to meet with Valentina Castro, magick craft shop owner, spell weaver, and enchanter extraordinaire. Valentina will be teaching her all about the basics of weaving magick into various materials, and Medea will get to stay with her in exchange for—you guessed it! Helping her out with her shop.

She’s actually quite enjoying the shops she’s helped out at during her travels, so really, it’s no trouble at all.

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Nothing especially notable outside of her training happens until early August, a bit before she plans to pack up and head home in time to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. That morning, not long after the shop opens, in walks someone she hasn’t met before, but definitely knows of from seeing her in the photos Dick had shown her of him and the Teen Titans: Donna Troy, Wonder Woman’s sister, one of Dick’s best friends, and an excellent hero who is currently part of the Justice League. Medea can’t help but take note of how beautiful she looks.

It occurs to her that even though they never met when she was Robin, there’s a pretty good chance that Dick had shown his team photos of her, just like how she was shown photos of his team, and that maybe she should be worried about being recognized, like she was all those months ago over Constantine possibly recognizing her. Time to introduce herself by her middle name again, just to be on the safe side, she supposes.

“Hi! How can I help you today?” She greets.

“Hello,” Donna smiles, “I heard you sell enchanted crafts here. Do you have any crocheted stuffed toys with protection magick woven in? I’m looking for a gift for a friend’s daughter.”

“Yes of course, they’re over in the back of the shop. Here, follow me, I’ll show you where they’re at,” Medea leads her over to where they keep the toys. “They’re sorted by what magicks are woven into them,” she gestures to one section of the shelf, “these are the ones with protection magick. Just a general kind, a small enchantment to reduce any harm that may be done to whoever has the toy in their possession, and a sort of warning system to nearby danger. Are these what you’re looking for? Or I can assist you in finding something else.”

“No, one of these will be perfect,” Donna says, grabbing one of the crocheted toys off of the shelf, “Thank you… I didn’t catch your name,”

“You can call me Peyton,” Medea replies, “Here, I can get you all checked out up front now, unless there’s anything else you’d like to buy today?”

“Just this. It’s nice to meet you, Peyton.” Donna smiles at her.

“Nice to meet you as well…” Medea trails off as if she doesn’t already know Donna’s name, since Donna never actually told her.

“Donna,” she provides her name.

“Nice to meet you, Donna,” Medea rings her up at the register, “Have a nice day!”

“You too!” Donna waves goodbye as she leaves the store.

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A few days after meeting Donna in the shop, Medea is packing up and heading to the airport. It’s time for her to go home. She’s looking forward to it, though it will be a relatively short stop at home before she’s off to college.

Chapter Text

The night before her birthday, Medea goes to sleep nice and early, wanting to get in as much rest as possible on account of all her plans for tomorrow. People to see, things to do, places to be. Nothing fancy—aside from the fancy dinner she knows Talia has planned for her—but just a lot of little things that she thinks it’d be best to rest up for.

When the clock strikes midnight the first of her plans for her birthday occurs, an alarm goes off to wake her so she can check the time, and the poison Medea drank before bed kicks in, just a bit after midnight, exactly as she had planned it to—she’s glad she timed it right. She falls back, head hitting her pillow, lifeless and with a smile on her face. It’s time to visit Death to start off her birthday.

“Happy eighteenth birthday, sweetling,” Death greets when Medea opens her eyes in Death’s home.

“Thank you,” Medea smiles.

“I could have come to visit you, as you are well aware,” Death raises an eyebrow.

“I missed it here, it’s been too long since I was able to visit your home,” Medea says.

“If you say so,” Death shakes her head fondly, “Come now, I have a gift for you,”

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“Death… this is…” Medea is speechless and in awe of the gift she had carefully unwrapped, “It’s gorgeous,”

“And it’s blessed to be as strong as armor,” Death explains, “This shawl here is made from my own shroud, and the rest of it was strengthened with magick and charmed to be easy to clean. If it gets destroyed, hang it in your closet and the magick woven into it will ensure it’s as good as new by morning,”

“That sounds a little like this outfit would be good for hero-ing,” Medea raises an eyebrow, “You know I’m no hero anymore,” she says it firmly but… sadly.

“Being a hero, hunting the Untitled… I merely wanted to give you something that would look good on you all while protecting you,” Death says.

“Thank you,” Medea smiles, “I love it, it’s really wonderful. Thank you.”

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Medea tries on the outfit from Death before she heads back to the world of the living. It fits her perfectly, and like Death said it would, it looks damn good on her. The black high waisted cargo pants aren’t truly anything special, at least, not in looks anyways—the magick on them certainly makes them special—but they do look good either way. She was given a sturdy pair of black combat boots with minor gold accents on them, and they are probably the most comfortable shoes she’s ever worn. As for her top, it’s a dark lazarus green that looks like it’s made of silk and has golden embroidery on it in some places. It looks stunning, and the magick on it is a breathtaking work of art. And then to finish the outfit off is a black hooded shawl lined in gold and made from Death’s own shroud.

Medea stares at herself in the mirror, wearing the whole outfit together, and thinks it really does look like something that she could go out as a hero or vigilante in. But she doesn’t do that anymore, she’ll help out people when she sees they need defending but she’s definitely no longer a hero and definitely has no desire to be…

If she keeps telling herself that, maybe it will be true.

Still though, it will definitely be good to fight against the Untitled in. Free movement of regular clothing but as strong as armor would be? Yeah, this outfit is going to see a lot of use.

It’s shaping up to be a very wonderful birthday if these are the gifts she’ll be getting. Useful and stylish. Medea is very grateful.

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Back in the land of the living, the time on her clock now reading 6:23 am, Medea is immediately pestered by Lazarus in her mind asking for her to use her soul magick and give him a physical form.

She does, and greets him with a “Hi, ‘Rus. What’s up?”

“Happy birthday, Lazzie,” he says, pulling her in for a hug, “I wanted to be the first person—in this domain, yes I know you already saw Death today, hush—to give you a gift.”

“Thank you ‘Rus,” Medea smiles, returning the hug, “but uh… how exactly did you get me a gift if you’ve been in my head most of the time?”

“Well, I still have a connection with others who use the pits, even if I don’t ever use them cause they’re all a bunch of losers unlike you, so I just quickly went to speak with Ra’s until he agreed to procure the gift I had in mind for you on my behalf.” Lazarus explains. “Now, let’s go!” He drags her off to where his gift for her is being stored.

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Lazarus pulls a package out from underneath the floorboards of the weapons storage—which, how he managed to convince anyone to hide them there in the first place, Medea isn’t sure, but alright then.

He hands her the package and she unwraps it swiftly, pulling out some of the most masterfully crafted weapons she has ever seen in her life. In her hands now rest two scimitars, with golden hilts and guards, and blades made of some sort of metal that looks to be a shining, bright lazarus green color. They are gorgeous, and they feel at home in her hands.

“Lazarus… you got these for me? They’re incredible, thank you so much!” Medea says, then tilts her head a little, examining the blades, “What’re these even made of, anyway?”

“Damascus steel, with a color enchantment on it,” Lazarus tells her, “Strong and durable, with excellent edge retention. You’ll need to take very good care of them so they don’t rust or corrode, though, of course.”

“Wow…” Medea breathes out, examining her scimitars with heavy appreciation, “Of course I’ll take care of them. Thank you so much, ‘Rus,”

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Most of her morning after that is consumed by calling her friends and former teachers from all over the world—and opening gifts from them if they’ve sent any that have already arrived.

She meets up with Essence for lunch, using her shadow travel to meet her at a cafe overseas—because yeah, Medea finally figured that out. She was incredibly happy about that when she first pulled it off.

“Hey,” Medea greets, sliding into the seat across from Essence at the table.

“Hello, Medea,” Essence greets in return, “and happy birthday,”

“Thanks,” Medea grins.

“I have something for you that I think you’ll like,” Essence says, sliding over a folder, “Consider it part of your birthday gift from me,”

“Only part?” Medea asks, reaching for the folder.

“Yes,” Essence grabs a bag from under the table and brings it up, placing it in the middle of the table, “only part. There’s this too.”

“Looking forward to finding out what that is,” Medea smiles, and then opens the folder.

Inside are some photos, gruesome ones of a half decayed, goopy mess of a body. A dead Untitled.

“I found her in one of the towns I stopped in. Took her out as soon as I had the chance.” Essence says.

“Good.” Medea nods once, firmly. “That’s, what, two down, seven to go, then?”

“Yes, should be just seven left.” Essence confirms. “Now,” she pushes the gift bag towards Medea, “something a little less serious for you.”

Medea smiles a bit at that, and opens the bag. From it, she pulls out a luna moth hair drape pin with golden crescent moons and stars dangling off the chains. It’s a gorgeous work of headpiece jewelry and Medea quickly pulls out her phone camera to use as a mirror and adjusts her hair before putting on the headpiece, draping over the back of her head.

“Thank you, Essence,” Medea smiles wider, “this is beautiful! I love it,”

“I’m glad,” Essence smiles a little.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Dinner for the Al Ghuls that night is a fancier affair than usual, but overall a quiet affair—which is… not always the case for the four of them, to put it simply.

They have a pleasant conversation while eating dinner that night, discussing Medea heading off to college soon, and Damian’s progress on his current painting, and Talia’s latest project, and the next mission Ra’s is sending his assassins on.

And then Damian decides he doesn’t want to wait any longer to see Medea open her gift from him, and he runs off to go get it—ah well, dessert can wait until after presents are opened.

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Medea walks to her room with a smile on her face. It really had been a great birthday. Damian had gifted her a gorgeous quill and inkwell set, with supplies for wax seals, insisting that no matter how easily she can physically visit home, she must send letters while she’s away at college. Talia and Ra’s had given her a gift from both of them—everything she could need for going away to college and living on her own near campus for the duration.

Opening the door to her room, Medea’s eye is immediately caught by something on her bed. It’s a giftbox, wrapped in vintage floral paper with a green ribbon tied around it. Exactly like the present from Naia for her birthday the previous year.

There’s a note with it, written in Naia’s handwriting. Medea picks it up, and it’s addressed the same way as last year’s gift, ‘For my darling Medea. Happy birthday. Love always, Naia’.

She should ignore it. She should toss the entire gift away without ever opening it. Naia doesn’t deserve her attention, not even in the form of opening a gift from her. Naia may still love her, but Medea does not love her.

But some part of her needs to know. Naia clearly got into her room, into her home. And the only thing she did… was leave a birthday gift for her. It’s violating, knowing her ex was here, that Naia could’ve harmed her family at any moment. But she didn’t.

Medea unwraps the gift. Inside of the giftbox is a vintage decorative fake book stack that opens up into being a storage box. Feeling like there’s more to it, Medea opens the false book stack. Inside of that lies a single flower—a blue hyacinth—and a note from Naia.

‘I hope you like the flower, darling,’ the note starts, ‘Remember? It’s the same kind as the first flower I ever gave you. I apologize that I had to sneak into your room to leave you this, but I had a feeling you aren’t ready to see me again. The box looked like something you’d enjoy, so I simply had to get it for you. Now, I hear you’ve killed my uncle. You know I’d do anything for my family, so you’ll need to pay for that. Unless of course you join me… then you’d be my family too. I could forgive you then. Can you forgive me, my darling Medea?’

Medea crumples the note, grabs a lighter from her bedside table, and sets the note on fire. Like hell she’ll be forgiving Naia. …but if the hyacinth ends up in a vase and the fake book stack box is put to use, then that’s just because they’re very nice when she ignores who they’re from.

That night, she puts as much protective magick as she knows how to use around her room, and then further more around her family’s rooms. Naia may have only dropped off a birthday gift, but if she snuck in once, she could do it again, and Medea’s not taking any chances.

She doesn’t get much sleep that night.

Chapter Text

After some long goodbyes and promises to visit often since she can do so with her shadow travel, Medea sets off for her first year at Oxford University with a grin on her face and excitement for what she’ll learn and the friends she may be able to make while there.

She has a feeling it’s going to be a good year of college overall, and she can’t wait to see what happens.

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“That is such bullshit!” Medea laughs.

“No! I really don’t like him!” Ryan, a new friend who she met during her first week at Oxford, insists.

“Sure, sure, and I’m Wonder Woman,” she rolls her eyes with a smile.

“I mean, you pretty much have her build and you’re certainly about the right height,” Ryan teases.

“Well, I’m definitely not Wonder Woman—though she’s awesome as fuck—and you definitely like Liam!”

Liam is another student who she and Ryan share a few classes with, and who Ryan is not so secretly interested in—even if he insists otherwise.

“Ack! Fine! Yes, I like Liam,” Ryan admits, “But there’s no way he likes me back so what’s the point?”

“How do you know that?” Medea asks, “You can’t know how he feels for you unless he’s told you,”

“Well—” Ryan stammers, “he’s just— he’s so cool and I’m just me,”

“I think ‘just you’ is pretty damn cool,” Medea says, “And I’ll bet Liam does too,”

“But what if he doesn’t?” Ryan groans.

“Then that’s his loss and he’s not as cool as you think he is,” Medea shrugs, “Only an idiot wouldn’t realize how cool you are,”

“Thanks, M,” Ryan smiles, “You might not be Wonder Woman but you’re definitely as awesome as her,”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

By the end of her third month at Oxford, Medea has made a few close friends, and they really do make for a wonderful group when all of them hang out together. Her friend group now includes Ryan, of course, but also Liam (who Ryan finally asked out! They’re such a cute couple, and Medea has totally gotten in several ‘I told you so’s), along with Parker and Vivienne.

She met Parker when they ran into her, literally, on their way to class. Accidentally, of course, and they apologized profusely for it, but Medea really hasn’t been that bothered. Accidents like that happen. Then, she kept running into them, stopping to talk with them longer and longer each time, until eventually they exchanged numbers and started making actual plans to hang out, becoming fast friends.

Vivienne was introduced to the group by Parker, as Parker’s closest friend in several of their own classes, and she and Medea immediately got on like a house fire once they met.

She’s told them a lot about her, but not everything. They know she’s from Gotham city, but that she hasn’t been there in years. They know she had a bad accident that kept her from being in person at high school, but not that her ‘bad accident’ was being murdered. They know she’s been adopted by a wonderful family consisting of her younger brother, her ‘awesome, kickass’ mom, and her ‘weird and crazy but still caring… in his own way’ grandfather, but not that her wonderful family is a bunch of assassins. They know she was adopted once before, and she misses that family, but she can’t go back to them, though they don’t know any more than that about her first adoptive family. They know she has a crazy ex girlfriend who things ended incredibly messily with, but they don’t know the messy ending was her ex massacring her people. They know she has odd looking books on odder seeming subjects, but they aren’t aware that those odd subjects are all about magick, or that the books are enchanted. They know she can do things no normal human being should be able to, but they haven’t pried about why that is.

They know she knows about their running bets on what crazy scenarios might explain the things they don’t know about Medea. She really appreciates them, and that they don’t seem to mind knowing there’s obviously something strange about her. She doesn’t want to drag them into her crazy world of assassins and Untitled and superheroes and supervillains and magick and… well. All the non-normal college student type stuff about her. Not if she can help it. She knows there’s a chance they’ll get dragged into it all anyways, though, and she’ll be there to help them through it all if that time comes.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“…do I even want to know?” Liam sighs.

“Probably not,” Medea and Vivienne answer simultaneously. In Medea’s arms is a raccoon, and in Vivienne’s arms is a small, folded up playpen for the raccoon to soon be put in. In the bag dangling from Medea’s arm are several cans of spray paint and silly string, and in the backpack Vivienne is carrying sits a whole lot of legos and a screwdriver.

They have a prank planned, and Liam knows how those usually end up going. Whoever pissed them off this time is in for a real shock.

“Alright then,” Liam says, “Carry on.”

(No raccoons were harmed in the process of this prank, but the asshole who was sexually harassing Vivienne and Medea when they were out to lunch sure did wind up with a lot of damaged property and no way to prove who did it. Medea later made sure the raccoon safely got to Damian’s animal sanctuary. He named the raccoon Darcy.)

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She talks with some professors, and some deans, and sorts out all the right arrangements for an advanced track so that she can get a doctorate in only five years at the school. Two doctorates, actually. She plans to attain a DPhil in English and a DPhil in Classical Languages and Literature.

It will be incredibly challenging she’s sure, but she’s always loved a challenge, and quite honestly with the education Talia has provided her at home, she’s already got enough knowledge to practically have an undergraduate degree already and a basis for both of the doctorates she wants. Five years is enough time for her to get both without the challenge of doing so being too challenging. If she really wanted a challenge, she’d be attempting to get dual doctorates in only four years.

(A/N: Is it obvious yet that I know nothing about how Oxford works? Because I know nothing about how Oxford works, I’m bullshitting the college stuff in this fic so hard right now. Also yes I’m aware this is not realistic/common, but it’s definitely possible at least. So. Two doctorates in five years it is. Also this fic has magick and superheroes and whatnot, if you expected realistic or common then idk what to tell you lol)

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One day Parker catches her as she melts back into place from out of her shadows, returning from a quick visit home.

“Uh, Parker, hey! So this is…” Medea… isn’t really sure how she’s gonna brush this one off.

“One of those strange ‘Medea being Medea’ things where we all know you aren’t normal but aren’t going to pry about the specifics?” Parker offers, “Don’t worry M, it’s all chill. Just another thing to add to the betting list, and this time I can guarantee a win for at least one thing on it! No one has ‘melting in and out of shadows’ on the list yet,” they grin.

Medea sighs in relief, giving them a grateful smile, “Thanks, Parker. I will tell you guys all about it one day, just…”

“It’s a lot and now is not the time for us to learn about it,” Parker, “We all get it. And when we do learn about it all, we’ll all stand by you. M, you could tell us you’ve killed people and we’ll still trust you. We might not know everything about you, but we know you’re a good person, and a great friend. And I do speak for the others when I say that. Ryan, Liam, Vivienne, and I, we all think that.”

“You guys are all incredible,” Medea pulls them in for a hug, “I am so lucky to have you four in my life.”

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Medea is out to lunch by herself today, study materials pulled out in front of her on the park bench where she’s chosen to eat lunch for the day. She’s not expecting it when a familiar face sits down next to her.

“Last I heard,” Donna starts, “you were a dead fourteen year old. But clearly, that’s not true anymore. So what’s changed, Medea?”

Right to the point then. Damnit, Medea thinks, she must’ve recognized me back in Costa Rica. But then… why wait till now to do something about it?

“Well you certainly seem sure I am who you think I am. Why’s that?” Medea deflects, not looking Donna’s way as she continues to look over her study materials.

“You might be taller and have some fancy new white in your hair, and I may not have met you when you were around as Robin, but Dick showed off a lot of photos of you, Medea. Any of us Teen Titans from back then would’ve been able to recognize you. Sure you look a bit different, but not that much. So, I know it’s you. What I’m not sure of is how it’s you. You definitely died, so how’re you back and why doesn’t your family know about it?” Donna asks in a way that Medea can tell means she won’t be letting this go.

Medea sighs, knowing a losing battle when she sees one, and gives in to explaining the very basics, “Death likes me, lets me come back from the dead as I please. Clawed my way out of my own coffin. I wasn’t all that there for a while after that, but I got better. Decided I’d rather not go back to where my murderer was, and then when he was gone I had… other things to do that weren’t back in Gotham. It’s easier for everyone if the bats don’t know I’m alive again.”

“Easier? Your death devastated them! They’d be glad to know you’re alive again. They deserve to know,” Donna insists.

“Devastated huh?” Medea snorts, “I’m sure they were upset, but the new Robin three months after I died sure doesn’t scream ‘devastated’ to me.”

Donna doesn’t know what to say to that, so for a moment the two young women just sit in silence.

“…you really don’t want them to know you’re alive again, huh? Don’t you miss them? Miss being a hero?”

“Sure I miss them,” Medea admits, “all the time. And being a hero… I’m always going to help people, save people, but I’m no hero anymore, Donna.”

“If you miss them, why not tell them you’re alive? Why not go see them?” Donna questions.

“Too much has happened,” Medea shakes her head, “I’m not who I was when I died. I’m not sure if…”

“If?” Donna prompts.

“Nothing,” Medea says, “It’s… nothing.” …if they’ll accept me as I am now, with all I’ve done and who I’ve become. She thinks Dick might. Her brother was good like that. But Bruce? Yeah, she’s not sure at all.

“…I’ll give you two years.” Donna tells her.

“What?” Medea says, confused, “Two years for what?”

“Two years to tell them on your own terms,” Donna elaborates, “I realize you want this kept secret, but Dick’s a good friend of mine. So. I’ll keep your secret for now, but if Dick doesn’t know you’re alive again within two years, I’m telling him.”

“That’s…” how long would she keep it secret, if their roles were reversed? “…that’s fair, yeah. Thank you for keeping it a secret for any time at all, Donna.”

“Yeah.” Donna replies. “Good luck with college, Medea. I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

“Maybe,” Medea smiles.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“Soooo…” Ryan trails, “I was not aware you could kick ass that easily,”

Medea snorts out a laugh, “That’s what you’re focused on?”

“Hey, I knew you could kick ass, but that was like… hero level shit, M,” Ryan grins, “All the more reason to be confident my bets are right, though. Now uh… what do we do about those guys, exactly?”

‘Those guys’ being the three men who tried to mug them just moments earlier before Medea proved to them why that was a huge mistake.

“Tie them up, call the cops, and then go get coffee?” Medea suggests.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

A few weeks before the school year comes to an end for the summer, Medea encounters another of the Untitled. It seems she tracked her down before Medea could track her down, wanting revenge for her brother, if the words she’s speaking as they fight are any indication.

“My niece may be willing to wait and forgive you,” she hisses, “but I will not. You took my brother away, and now you'll pay for that with your life.”

“Yeah, well, your brother was a nasty piece of work and I’m not sorry he’s dead. You’ll be joining him soon enough, if you miss him so much,” Medea replies, tone harsh and biting.

With no blood to manipulate and no bones to bend to her will with her magick, Medea sticks to umbramagick and soul magick, though since she’s pouring a lot of soul magick into strengthening her All Blades, she really only uses her umbramagick to either directly attack the Untitled or to avoid an attack from the Untitled.

Melting down into a shadow on the ground in the nick of time to avoid the Untitled’s claws coming right at her neck, Medea rematerializes right behind her, slashing an All Blade deep into her back.

She’s stronger than her brother was.

Their fight carries on for a while, claws meeting blades, soulfire burning but not spreading yet, both of them dodging blows and landing hits of their own on the other.

“Alright you fucking bitch,” Medea growls, “Let’s end this,” she leaps forward, pouring more soul magick into the All Blades, and slashes one across the Untitled’s throat, the soulfire finally catching. She drives the other blade deep into her chest, and slowly the soulfire catches there too, spreading along her body from two places now as it burns away at her sludgy body and her life force.

Medea didn’t see the claws coming her way just before the soulfire ate away at the last of the Untitled, and they dig deeply into her stomach, leaving a large, heavily bleeding gash in her side, “Oh, that’s not gonna be good.”

Just then, she hears the door open, and turns to see as Ryan, Liam, Parker, and Vivienne all get a front row seat to the Untitled’s last moments.

“Well, fuck.” Medea mutters. “Uh, hey guys,” she raises a bloody hand from where she was putting pressure on her new gash to wave to them in greeting.

Looks like she owes them that explanation of everything they don’t know about her just yet.

Chapter Text

“Okay, so to get this straight—” Parker starts, and Medea snorts.

“There’s nothing straight about any of us, but go on,” she says.

Parker rolls their eyes, “—To sum up what you just told us, you had a few years of childhood consisting of being a hero in Gotham, then you were literally murdered and so dead that you were buried, had a funeral and everything, and then you spoke with Death—who is a person and not just a concept, apparently—and she let you come back from the dead. Am I understanding this properly so far?”

“Yeah, that’s accurate.” Medea confirms.

They’re all sitting in Liam’s apartment right now, Medea having been practically dragged there after they saw her kill that Untitled in a scene she can only assume looked entirely wild to them, watching a monster made of sludge be burned by magickal golden fire, the same fire that could clearly be seen on her All Blades, which soon disappeared. So. Yeah, she’s sure it looked like something out of a fever dream to her friends.

But they hadn’t dwelled on it in the moment, once they realized she was hurt. They had instead insisted she directed them to where she keeps her first aid stuff, and tried to talk her into going to a hospital but she refused, saying she knew enough to treat her wound, and eventually they let it be, assisting her in getting the gash cleaned and stitched up.

Once her wound was no longer left unattended, though, that’s when the questions had started up, questions that included ‘What the fuck was that?’ ‘Did you just kill someone?’ ‘Where the hell did those swords go?’ and ‘Will you please explain what in the world your life is? Because holy shit Medea, this is insane. I think it’s time you let us get to know the full truths about you.’ Which… yeah. More than fair.

So, they went to Liam’s apartment where there wasn’t a bunch of the Untitled’s sludgy remains to clean up, and none of her blood spattered around either, and Medea started from the beginning, from losing her mama and dad, and ending up on the streets until she stole the right pair of tires. She told them about being Robin, and about how Joker had murdered her. She let them know about Death, about waking up in her coffin. Medea told them about her time being catatonic, about being found by Talia. She told them about gaining her new family, regaled them with tales of the adventures she went on with her little brother, the games she played with her grandfather, the gift of being able to live her life as herself she was given by her mother. She let them know she’s killed people, explained her reasons why. She told them about teaching herself magick, and then going somewhere to learn even more of it. She told them about Naia. About her betrayal.

She told them everything she had been keeping from them in order to not drag them into her crazy, way beyond normal life. She never wanted them in harms way. But they just saw her kill and Untitled, and they didn’t run. They didn’t call her crazy, or hurl out accusations of her being a murderer. They didn’t leave her, didn’t abandon her, didn’t call the cops. Instead they stuck by her side, they made sure her wounds were tended to, and then they—with more calmness than she thinks she deserved—asked entirely reasonable questions.

“Okay, so then you got adopted into an assassin family,” Ryan picks up where Parker left off, “learned magick, joined a secretive group of warriors who fight against a great evil, and got a girlfriend who later turned out to be part of that great evil and who betrayed you and your secret warrior group, leading them to their deaths.”

“Uh-huh, that about sums it all up properly.” Medea confirms.

“And after all of that…” Vivienne says, “…you still came to college, still trusted us all to be a part of your life, even if you couldn’t tell us everything then. How on earth have you stayed so kind, after everything you’ve been through?” she asks rhetorically. “Thank you, M, for trusting us with this.”

“You… you guys don’t… mind?” Medea asks. “I’ve killed people, I’m a dangerous person, and being friends with me could put you all in danger, especially now that you know. You— you should leave me, before you get hurt by all the crazy I deal with.” It pains her to say it, she doesn’t want to lose her friends, but she’d take having them alive and safe over having them hurt because they’re civilians who got too close to her, too involved in her decidedly non civilian dealings.

“It sounds like you’ve really only killed to protect others, and you being dangerous means you’ve got the skills to protect us from any danger that us knowing all this might put us in. Medea, you’re a wonderful friend, we all love you. Why the fuck would we abandon you just because you aren’t some average civilian?” Liam raises an eyebrow.

Medea lets out a relieved laugh, “You guys might just be crazier than I am, taking this all in stride so easily. Thank you,” she says sincerely, “I love you guys.”

Her four friends respond in kind, a chorus of ‘I love you’s sounding out. She pulls them each in for a hug, expertly avoiding irritating her brand new stitches in the process.

“Now that we know all this though,” Vivienne says with a grin, “you need to help us figure out who’s won what bets,”

“I think I can do that,” Medea smiles at her. She is truly so grateful for her friends and their easy acceptance of her, the entire her.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

When summer break rolls around, and Medea is getting ready to go home, she invites Ryan, Liam, Parker, and Vivienne to come spend a week or two at her house, now that they know just what her home and family consists of.

They accept happily, all excited to spend more time together, and also to meet her family that she talks about so adoringly all the time.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

“Habibti, welcome home,” Talia greets warmly, “And these must be the friends you’ve mentioned.”

“Yes. Ummi, this is Ryan,” she gestures to Ryan, who waves, “Liam,” he nods in greeting, “Parker,” they smile and wave, “and Vivienne.” she waves as well as Medea finishes introduces them. “Guys, this is—obviously—my mom, Talia,”

“Hi ma’am,” “Hello Ms. Al Ghul,” “Nice to meet you, M’s mom,” “Thank you for having us” her friends all say.

“It’s a pleasure to meet my daughter’s friends, she’s had many things to say about you all,”

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“So like,” Vivienne says as she unpacks her stuff in the guest room she’ll be staying in, “your mom is single, right? Are you looking for a stepmom? Because I’ll go and propose right now. She’s beautiful, and badass, and—”

“Okay so as of right now you are officially banned from being left alone around my mom thank you very much,” Medea interrupts.

“Boo, ruin all my fun. C’mon M, I promise I would treat her so well, I’d be the best wife ever for her,”

“Nope, nuh uh, conversation over, I am not looking for a stepmom currently,”

“‘Currently’ eh? So I’ve got a shot later?”

Medea just sighs and walks out of the room.

“That wasn’t a no!” Vivienne calls after her.

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“Ukhti, I want another jaguar for Yvette and Nahla.” Damian tells her.

“Wait, you guys have jaguars?” Ryan asks.

“We have a lot more than just jaguars,” Medea answers before turning to Damian, “Ummi said no more jaguars, and I know you know that.”

“That was a while ago, who is to say that ummi has not changed her mind,” Damian says.

“And has she?” Medea raises an eyebrow.

“…no. But Yvette and Nahla still should have another friend.” he insists.

“Go ask ummi then, Dames. I’ll back you up on it,”

“Very well, I find that acceptable,” he nods, and leaves to go find Talia.

“Your brother is very formal,” Ryan observes.

“Yeah, he grew up reading classics,” Medea says.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

Despite the fact that Talia had once insisted on no more jaguars, Damian and Medea manage to convince her, and by the end of that week Yvette and Nahla have a new friend who Damian has named Wybie.

(Yeah, Medea had introduced the eleven year old to the Coraline movie a few days ago. She’s debating if it will get her stabbed or not to leave a doll that looks just like him next to his bed in a week or two.)

════ஓ๑ Warning! This scene contains violence and death! ๑ஓ════

Medea and her friends decide to take a weekend trip together, and they’re on their way back to their hotel from getting lunch at a nearby restaurant. That’s when Medea starts to get the feeling they’re being watched.

“Guys, it’s such a nice day out, let’s take the scenic route back, yeah?” Medea suggests, and starts walking in a way that’ll take longer without waiting for a response.

They make their way down a road that’s practically deserted at this time of day, and that’s when whoever was watching them makes themself known. Themselves, actually, as multiple people drop from the nearby rooftops.

Medea recognizes them as part of the fairly small group—only ten of them—of assassins who thought that they could run the League better than the Al Ghuls. It was only a few weeks ago that she and Talia had… sent them packing, so to say. One of them had ended up dead, and the rest had fled soon after. Medea had assumed they had learned their lesson, but it seems they’re back for another shot at killing her. There’s three of them in front of her now, and two more closing in behind her and her friends.

Shit. Right. Her friends. Okay, priority number one is keeping them safe. Priority number two… make sure these fucking assholes get the message that they’re no match for her or her family and it’s in their best interest to leave them alone.

“Alright assholes,” Medea pulls a dagger from beneath her sleeve, and another from her boot, “let’s fucking dance.”

Without giving them the chance to make the first move, she throws one of her daggers with great accuracy, the blade embedding itself into one of the eyes of the assassin closest to her.

Keeping hold of her other dagger, she uses her free hand to reach for her ankle holster, and pulls out a pistol. 9mm, 7 rounds, semi-automatic (A/N: don’t ask me for more details. I know as much about guns as I do Oxford, which is to say, pretty much nothing at all. And if I butcher anything about guns in this fight scene or any future ones? Shhh, no I didn’t).

She doesn’t normally carry a gun when she’s going out to lunch like this. With her All Blades, she’s always armed, and usually just keeps a small blade or two on her for emergencies. Of course, if she’s anticipating a fight, she’ll be far more armed.

She wasn’t anticipating this fight, but she had a bad feeling today. Similar to before she left the All Caste that time before they were massacred, and similar to before Elias was murdered by that Untitled. She guessed it was probably a bit of her death sense kicking in, and since she’ll be damned if her friends end up dead, she decided on taking a gun with her today. And now, she’s definitely glad she did.

Medea takes aim and shoots the one she had thrown her dagger at. The assassin goes down with a new hole in his head, and then Medea is dodging out of the way of a knife tossed right at her neck by ducking down, and then sinking into the shadows beneath her.

She wastes no time in reappearing in the shadow of one of the other assassins, and she stabs her dagger up through her chin, pulls it out harshly, and then slashes her throat. Seeing another assassin rushing towards her with a sword drawn, Medea fires off two bullets at him, aiming for his knees. When his knees hit the ground with a thud, she fires a third bullet at him, this one ripping through his skull, and he drops down like the other two assassins she’s already… taken care of.

That’s when four more assassins drop from the rooftop to assist the two left standing.

“Looks like the gang’s all here now,” Medea snarks, turning and firing off another bullet, another fatal headshot, at one of the assassins who was getting too close to her friends—who were doing their best to keep themselves out of the way, ducked to the side and shuffled behind the corner of a small alleyway. She appreciates the thought of trying to make themselves less of a target.

Five assassins and only two rounds left in her pistol, and still four friends to keep from being harmed. Medea narrows her eyes slightly in concentration. Yeah, she can do this. As long as she ends up with all the assassins taken care of and all her friends still safe by the end of this, Medea doesn’t care what she has to do to get to that point.

Two of the assassins rush at her from opposite sides, and Medea makes no move to dodge as they raise their blades for an attack. When they’re close enough that they won’t be able to stop their momentum, Medea dives headfirst into a roll, dodging at the last second, and letting the assassins injure each other, blades cutting deep. One assassin has her hand all but sliced off, while the other ends up with a blade slashing deep into his acromioclavicular joint—ah, where his shoulder blade meets his collarbone, that is. It’s a joint crucial to shoulder movement, and Medea is more than happy to see that the blade struck his dominant arm.

Springing to her feet once more, Medea notices an assassin moving towards her friends, and she puts as much force as possible into throwing her dagger at the assassin’s neck. Satisfied that that assassin won’t be a danger to her friends anymore, Medea turns her head just in time to go flipping backwards to avoid the dagger that had been thrown at her in return from one of the other assassins.

Unfortunately, doing that put her in a position where the nearly handless one would be able to kick her in the back, sending Medea sprawling on the ground for a moment. And that’s exactly what she did.

Medea hits the ground with a grunt, air rushing out of her lungs at the impact, but rather than letting it slow her, she sweeps her foot and kicks the assassin’s legs out from under her, raising her pistol and firing off a round into her head.

Four assassins left, and one round left too. And, with a quick glance in their direction to confirm, all four of her friends still safe… err, as safe as they can be in this situation.

Deciding to say fuck it, Medea gets off the ground, spins on her heel, and fires off her last round into the head of the slashed-joint assassin, watching him drop dead to the ground. Then, she spins on her heel again, and chucks her pistol as hard as she can at one of the three remaining assassins, dazing her long enough that when Medea rushes at her with the sword she pulled off the closest dead assassin, she doesn’t see it coming, and Medea is able to slice deep into her neck with it, leaving the assassin choking on her blood. Medea kicks her boot hard against the assassin’s head, knocking her unconscious while she slowly bleeds to death.

Two assassins left now, and when Medea turns to face them again, she only has eyes on one of them. She wastes no time in drawing upon her osteokinesis, raising her hand and focusing hard on the assassin’s ribcage, and then when she squeezes her hand shut tight, she hears the sickening crack of the assassin’s ribs breaking inwards and piercing his heart.

Turning wildly towards where her friends are doing their best to hide in the alleyway, Medea spots the last assassin, blade raised for a killing blow against Ryan. Medea can see that her friends had tried to run when they had noticed the assassin getting close, but Ryan’s cane must have gotten caught in some of the trash lying about on the ground, and he had fallen down. And her friends are nothing if not loyal to each other, so the others had refused to leave him behind. And now if she’s not fast enough, they’ll have to watch Ryan die.

It’s that thought that forces her into the split second decision of melting into the shadows and rematerializing right in between Ryan and the assassin’s blade, her own stolen sword already in motion against the last assassin, and to ensure that this assassin doesn’t make it out alive, Medea uses the shadows she appeared from, forcing them to twist into something physical and wrapping them tightly around the assassin’s neck.

As the assassin’s killing blow hits her instead of Ryan, Medea smiles a vicious sort of smile, one with blood on her teeth and a satisfied look in her eyes knowing that kept her friends safe, and though she might be dying now, so is the assassin who did this to her—who almost did this to Ryan.

She can hear her friends worriedly screaming her name as her eyes flutter shut.

…did she tell them that Death letting her come back from being dead wasn’t a one time thing in her earlier explanation of everything? Medea… can’t actually remember if she did or not…

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She comes back from visiting Death as soon as she can, and she comes back to the sounds of her friends panicking.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit,” Parker rushes out, and Medea can hear it in their voice that they’ve been crying.

“What… what do we do?” Liam’s voice sounds raw.

“We need to... to call someone, call her mom or something…” Vivienne chokes out.

She can hear Ryan muttering quietly, voice shaky and tearful, “She’s… she’s dead, oh gods she’s dead, she can’t be… she can’t— she died to save me, fuck, please, no, no no no, don’t let this be real, please,”

And fuck doesn’t she just feel awful for causing them this pain and panic.

She lets out a groan, sitting up slowly and pressing a hand to where her still healing wound is sluggishly healing, using a bit of her hemokinesis to sort of… staunch the blood still flowing so that she won’t bleed out again. She’ll need to get that properly taken care of soon, though.

“Me…Medea?” Ryan breathes out in shock. “Medea! You’re alive! You’re… how are you alive?” He scrambles over to pull her into a hug, being mindful of her once fatal injury. “I’m so glad you’re alive,”

The others all give their own agreements to that statement, each pulling her in for hugs of their own, expressing how glad they are to see her alive again, their relief clear across their faces as most of them cry in joy rather than grief now.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you like that,” Medea says, “I had forgotten to let you know that Death letting me come back isn’t a one time thing. I’m sorry, so sorry, I’m here now, I’m back again. And I’m… I’m really sorry you had to see… all that.”

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Ryan comes to talk with her the next day, body language practically screaming determination, “That shadow magick of yours, can anyone learn it?”

“Pretty much,” Medea answers, “Some people would probably find it easier than others, some far more difficult, but yeah, it can be learned by anyone.”

“Teach me,” Ryan asks—demands, really.

“Excuse me?”

“Teach me,” Ryan repeats, “Please, M. I can’t— I can’t be in that position again, and I can’t watch you die for me again… if I had been able to slip into the shadows like you can, I wouldn’t have— Please. With my joints the way they are I can’t do all that fancy fighting you do. But I can learn magick. So. Teach me?”

“Yeah, alright,” Medea agrees softly, “But I won’t be able to teach you much, I can give you guidance but I’m fairly busy so me teaching you would go incredibly slow. You up for some self studying?”

“Always,” Ryan says. “Thank you, Medea. Really, thank you.”

“Of course, Ry,” Medea smiles.

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She’s not surprised in the slightest when Liam pulls her aside later that same day, “Hey M, would you uh, be willing to help me learn to use blades like you do? I’d… I want to be able to defend myself and the others the way you defended us today. Or, well, I doubt I’ll ever quite be your level with the variety of tricks you have up your sleeve, but if I can learn to use daggers and swords the way you do? That’d be real nice. So, teach me, please? Or, help me find a teacher?”

“Sure, Li,” Medea agrees, “I’ll find a teacher for you while you’re here, and then I’ll teach you some stuff myself when I have the time to. I’m… I’m sorry, that you feel like you need to learn now, because of the danger being my friend puts you and the others in. I never wanted you all to be in harm’s way.”

“Medea, it’s alright. It’s crazy and I never thought I’d be doing this, but it’s alright, I promise. Thank you, by the way,” Liam says.

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Parker drags her into a conversation the day after that, “So Medea, do you think you can—”

“Teach you one of the things I know so you can protect yourself and the others?” Medea takes a guess at what Parker might ask her about.

“Yeah, exactly.” They say. “I’d like to learn some magick… not sure what kind yet though.”

“We’ll find something that suits you,” Medea tells them.

“Thanks, M!”

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“Okay so how in the world do you have such good aim with a gun, and can you teach me to do the same? Also, I want to throw daggers like you do, your aim with those is also amazing. Please teach me?” Vivienne asks the same day Parker had.

“Sure, Vivs,” Medea nods, “I’ll work something out to be able to teach you. May have to find you another teacher though, I’ve only got so much time, and I’ve got a lot to do in that time,”

“Yeah, of course,” Vivienne says, “Thank you, though!”

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“I hear you did something pretty heroic recently,” Donna greets, dropping down from a rooftop as Medea is out for a walk in the evening. It’s been about a week since she killed those assassins, she taught her friends a few tricks and got them set up with their own teachers, and the four of them had all left for their own homes just the other day.

“This feels more and more like you must be stalking me each time we run into each other,” Medea snorts, “Hi, Donna. Where’d you hear that? …do the bats know?”

“Not stalking, just happened to be in the area. I was tracking those assassins for a case of mine. A solo one, so no, the bats don’t know.”

Medea breathes out in relief, “Good. A case huh? Hope I didn’t fuck it up for you,” she raises an eyebrow.

“You made it go much easier, actually. Thanks for that,” Donna nods.

“Well I didn’t do it for you,” Medea rolls her eyes.

“No, you didn’t. You did it to save people. So, why aren’t you back to being a hero?”

Medea’s steps falter before she keeps walking, this time a little faster forcing Donna to pick up her own pace, “That’s just… not who I am anymore.”

“It could be, though,” Donna pushes, “You’ve got the skills, you like to help people. What’s stopping you?”

Medea takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, then opens them with a sigh, “So much. I’m no hero nowadays. That part of me died in that warehouse.” …but she could be a hero again. She could bring that part of her back to life… no. It’s not a good idea. Too much has happened, she’s done too much to think that she’d be welcome as a hero by most people’s standards of what makes a hero. …maybe when she’s ready to go back to Gotham though, she can look out for her people, those in Crime Alley… she could be their hero… couldn’t she?

“I think technically all of you died in that warehouse,” Donna raises an eyebrow, “But you’re back now. You can go back to being a hero any time now, too.”

Medea rolls her eyes, “Yeah, sure, maybe I can.”

“Don’t act like that, I’m being serious. For what it’s worth, Medea, I think you’d be a great hero.” Donna smiles at her, and lays a hand on Medea’s shoulder.

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“…seeing as you are the elder of the two of us, I believe it is your job to inform grandfather of this… incident.”

The incident in question is a toppled over bookshelf in the library— not Ra’s’ personal one, thank the gods. That would’ve been a much worse place for the incident to occur, but nonetheless this is still not ideal.

“This is as much your fault as it is mine kiddo, we’re telling grandfather together.” Medea insists.

“…”

“…”

“We could… clean it up ourselves and never mention this again?” Damian tentatively suggests.

“I like the way you think, Dames. We have,” Medea glances at a clock nearby, “like half an hour before he’s meant to return.”

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“Happy birthday, abnati,” Talia says as Medea sits down for breakfast, “How’s it feel being nineteen?”

“Ask me again when I’ve been awake for more than an hour,” Medea grins, “Thanks, ummi,”

This year she’s busier than her last birthday, running around to see Death, Lazarus, Ryan, Liam, Parker, Vivienne, and Essence. She makes sure to leave some time to spend with her family, of course. She loves every gift she receives this year, and she loves the time with her friends and family even more so.

She doesn’t love the gift box sitting that she finds sitting just outside her house, at the boundary of the protective magick she added after last year’s birthday. She knows without checking the tag it’s addressed to her from Naia.

Medea doesn’t even bother arguing with herself about if it’s worth opening or not, she just groans and goes about unwrapping it. This time, there’s no note accompanying the gift, but inside sits a bouquet of blue hyacinths, and a bottle of perfume she once mentioned to Naia loving the scent of because it reminded her of her mama.

She grumbles about it, and burns the box it came in, but the flowers get set in a lovely vase on her desk and the perfume finds a spot on her vanity table. What? Just because she doesn’t like who it’s from doesn’t mean she’s going to let good flowers and a nice perfume go to waste…

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Medea starts her second year of college, deciding to room with Vivienne for the year now that she doesn’t have to hide her less than civilian habits from her friends.

Only two weeks into the school year, she has what she’s considering one of the oddest phone calls she’s ever had with Talia.

“You’re… sending Damian to Gotham?”

“He is twelve now. He has been asking about meeting his father, and I feel now is a good time for that to occur.” Talia says.

“Dames is undoubtedly going to become Robin,” Medea points out, perhaps a bit… unhappily.

“Yes, that is likely.” Talia agrees.

“That’s going to be dangerous.” Though Talia cannot see her, Medea narrows her eyes in worry at the thought of her little brother becoming Robin. “I don’t like that. Him in that costume… I died as Robin.”

“The Joker is dead now, habibti. That monster will never be able to harm your brother,” Talia reassures.

“Other monsters could, though. There are more ways that being Robin could put his life at risk.” Medea says.

“You and I both know he will not be dissuaded from becoming Robin. Perhaps having his ukhti there to protect him, however, will significantly lower the additional risk it puts him in.” And there it is.

“Ummi… the school year has only just started… I can’t leave school, and I’m nowhere near Gotham,” Medea protests, but it’s halfhearted at best.

“Don’t be foolish, habibti. Your shadow travel will eliminate any issue that distance causes.” Talia refutes. “And I know you, shabah saghir. You have been… restless. You will continue to be until you are able to go and protect your home, protect the Alley. What truly holds you back from returning to Gotham?”

“…I’m not ready to see Bruce again yet, I don’t think.” Medea admits.

“So simply don’t. Pick a name for yourself, hide your face, your identity. You may not be Robin now, but you have what it takes to be a hero still. You have always cared so deeply about looking out for those who have no one else looking out for them. Go, look out for your brother, and look out for Crime Alley while you are at it.” Talia tells her. “And besides, are you really going to try and tell me that you are going to be held back by your father in any way? You, my strong and willful daughter? In all my time of knowing you, I have never seen anyone keep you from what you truly desire to do for long.”

“You… yeah, you’re right, ummi…” Medea concedes. Mulling something over in her mind, she thinks back to what Lazarus had told her all those months ago about why he calls her ‘Lazzie‘, “Y’know… Lady Lazarus has a nice ring to it…”

Talia smiles, “It suits you. You will do wonderful things in Gotham, abnati. I am sure of it. Damian will be pleased as well.”

Chapter Text

It’s raining the day Bruce buries his first daughter, his second child. His smart, independent, reckless child. The one he was too late to save. He has her buried next to her mother, the woman who she ran away to find, who died with her in that warehouse.

Dick isn’t at the funeral, rather he’s off planet on a mission with the Teen Titans, same as he was when Medea ran away, and when she… when she died.

It becomes a point of contention between him and his son when Dick returns to Gotham. Dick yells at him something fierce, worse than any argument they’ve had before, furious that no one even tried to tell him that his sister was dead until he returned home.

Bruce doesn’t hear from Dick for a month straight after that.

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A young boy with a camera and a penchant for some light stalking shows up on his doorstep roughly two months after he buried his daughter.

Tim is stubborn, and as fiercely independent as any of Bruce’s children. It makes it impossible for Bruce to say no to making him Robin. At least this way, he can keep an eye on Tim. If Tim is Robin, then… he can keep the boy from doing anything too reckless and following in Medea’s footsteps.

Batman gets a new Robin three months after the second Robin died.

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Months later, they find the Joker dead in Arkham. Bruce questions Dick—Dick, who had done it once before, when Joker was taunting him about Medea’s death, and he beat the Joker to death with his bare hands—who denies it, and Bruce knows Dick wouldn’t be lying at a time like this.

Investigating the Joker’s death further only confounds Bruce more—because what business did the League of Assassins have in Gotham where they needed to murder the Joker?

He finds Talia, but questioning her reveals nothing. So focused on trying to find why killing the Joker was League business, it escaped his notice that not once in the conversation does she call him ‘beloved’.

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The one year anniversary of Medea’s death finds Bruce and Dick at her grave, mourning her and who she could have been. She never even made it through her freshman year of high school… and she always dreamed of going to college. She had so many plans. She was such a bright young girl.

Maybe that’s why, a bit down the line, Bruce will give Tim such a hard time over dropping out of high school—because his daughter never got to graduate, and that was something she had always wanted so badly to achieve, and yet Tim just gave up his chance at it.

But that won’t come for a couple more years. For now, the family mourns.

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A bit before what would have been Medea’s sixteenth birthday sees paperwork of hers going missing, only to reappear not long after. Bruce isn’t sure what to make of it, but assumes it was merely a matter of files being misplaced accidentally after a mix up with patrol reports, because he finds no proof that it could be anything else.

Due to the strings Talia pulled, Bruce has no way of knowing that his deceased daughter had just been declared legally alive… and is no longer legally just his daughter.

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Two months after Medea’s sixteenth birthday, a young woman—only seventeen years old—is brought to his doorstep by Barbara. Her name is Cassandra, she was trained to be a living weapon, and some of the things she does remind Bruce so much of Medea it leaves his heart aching.

Barbara takes Cassandra under her wing, and soon Oracle is directing the newest Batgirl out in the field. But Cass still needs a home, and that’s how Bruce takes in his second daughter.

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Tim makes friends with a vigilante around his age calling herself Spoiler, and not long after suddenly Stephanie is being invited over to the manor all the time. She makes quick friends with Cass and Barbara once she’s introduced to them, and Bruce fears he’ll never know peace again.

Stephanie does not become his daughter, but she joins them on patrols and has become such an integral part of their family that he feels responsible for her safety and wellbeing. And if some of what Cass did reminded him of Medea, then most of how Stephanie behaved was so reminiscent of Medea it hurt, and he gave Steph more than one lecture on how she needs to stop behaving so recklessly or she’ll find herself seriously injured—or worse.

When Dick finds out about those lectures, he pulls Bruce aside and yells at him so loudly that while they could not make out any words, Tim, Steph, and Cass could hear him shouting from two floors down. Dick doesn’t talk to Bruce for a week after that, coming around only for his siblings, still mad that he found Bruce all but blaming his little sister, his first younger sibling ever, for her own death.

He may not have gotten along with her right from the start, but he had fixed that when he realized how unfair he was being to his new sister, and before Medea had died they really had been the best of siblings to each other. Dick was so incredibly proud of his sister. He misses her every day, and it’s not fair of their father to speak about her like that, especially when it’s so obviously false to anyone who knew Medea—which, his new siblings did not know her, so how dare Bruce make them think those things about her.

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The years seem to go by quicker after that, and at some point they get another addition to the family in the form of a young man—a year younger than Tim—named Duke. He becomes Gotham’s first daytime hero, going by the name of Signal. Duke is as stubborn as the rest of Bruce’s kids, a trait that is as exasperating as it is endearing honestly.

And then, not too long after what would have been Medea’s nineteenth birthday, a young twelve year old boy who looks a lot like Talia, but also like Bruce, shows up at the manor. He introduces himself as Damian Al Ghul, blood son of Batman.

Damian becomes the newest Robin by the end of his second week at the manor. Bruce was hesitant to let him, but Damian would not be dissuaded, and it became clear to Bruce that it would be safer to have his son out on his terms rather than out on his own— because either way, Damian would be out there.

Now time to figure out who this ‘Lady Lazarus’ that only just showed up is…