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Chapter Text

Ra’s Al Ghul was not usually someone who let weakness touch him. Pity was for lesser men.

For centuries he had led the League of Assassins with an iron fist. He made a name for himself across the seas- The Head of the Demon. 

Ra’s had knowledge and experience that most people could only ever dream of comprehending. Much less rival. 

There were only a handful of things that he had no understanding of. A handful of things that he didn’t understand. 

One was currently laying lifelessly in front of him. 

“How is he?” Ra’s asked his daughter. 

Talia sat at the boy’s side, fingers clasped around his hand as her thumb rubbed circles against his skin. Her eyes were rimmed red and shadows were deep beneath them. 

Looking at her now, one would never believe that she was a daughter of the Demon’s Head. 

“He is… alive.” Her eyes flicked up at him and even though it was brief, he could see the worry and vulnerability hidden within the depths of her eyes. “You were right, Baba.” She whispered, “I never should’ve- I shouldn’t have let him go back.” 

He froze, caught off guard. Talia hadn’t called him Baba in decades. Not since-

Unexpectedly, his stance softened and he stepped forward. 

Talia tensed when his shadow fell over her, but she did not move as he lowered himself beside her. His hand came to rest on her shoulder before gently allowing the distance between them to close.

She stiffened and for a second, he was scared that she would push him away but then her whole body sagged with defeat and she shoved her forehead in his shoulder the exact same way she used to when she was a kid. He felt the cloth dampen but he did not pull away.

“I just- I just wanted him to be happy.” Her voice hitched but he stayed quiet. “He wanted to go back. He wanted to see Bruce again. He wanted his family back and I… I wasn’t strong enough to say no.” 

She pulled away and looked up at him, “The healers claim that he should’ve died.” Talia admitted, voice full of pain and regret. “They claimed that it was a miracle that he survived for so long with nothing but a frail bond.”  

He did not need Shiva’s abilities to see how guilt radiated off of his daughter in waves. She believed that she failed him because she let him go but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

That was a lesson that would come with time.

Ra’s gaze drifted to the omega, pale and broken yet still stubbornly clinging to the last thread of his life. The weak beating of his heart echoed throughout the room. 

A miracle, indeed. 

A miracle that the Detective had foolishly taken for granted. 

Ra’s Al Ghul would not make the same mistake. 

Throughout the years, the population of omegas had dwindled. There was no explanation as to why. It was a global phenomenon and scholars, researchers, mages and more had spent countless years traveling and praying for answers, but none came. 

And the world just continued to spin as humans and their designations further evolved.

But, as rare as they are, omegas did still exist. 

They were highly sought after and highly coveted. To many, having an omega meant that the gods themselves had blessed you. They were proof of fortune. Proof of strength. Proof of a good pack. 

The Al Ghuls have not had a pack omega for years. When his wife passed, Ra’s could not bring himself to seek another. He could not replace the mother of Talia or Nyssa. Nor did he want to. 

And it wasn't needed because omegas were no longer essential to have a successful pack. 

Designations had adapted to their absence and responsibilities for both alpha and beta had increased. Alphas shouldered the more physical responsibilities while betas took over the more emotional aspects. Bonds had been reshaped as well. 

Over and over again, human kind had proved that they were nothing if not resilient and their designations had endured.

Resilience, however, did not mean perfection.

While the world might have forgotten, the Al Ghuls had not. 

The Western portrayal of omegas had done more damage than anyone could have ever known. Cultures were erased. Their importance had been wiped and history was rewritten while the entire world was watching.

Omegas began to be seen as prizes to be kept and paraded around. They were a blessing. Fragile. Weak. 

Ra's scoffed. Omegas were not weak and meek beings that needed an alpha's guiding hand for every decision. They were the core of a pack. The reason for its balance. 

But everyone had forgotten, even the omegas themselves.

Ra's had not seen a proper omega in decades. 

At least, not until Jason Todd. 

Ra’s watched as the boy swept through his assassins with ease. Each strike was precise and each step was flawless. The bat’s training could easily be seen in the boy's fighting style but at the same time, he could see that there was something more. Something layered that did not belong to the bat.

Though, he didn’t know what it was.

Yet. 

The boy’s eyes were empty. There was no spark or spirit shining through them. His body was relying on nothing but pure instinct. Even his scent was absent, muted to nothing, as though he was cloaked with suppressants. But Talia had assured him that there was none. 

It was interesting. The boy should be dead. The boy was dead. However, by fate’s design, he was given another chance at life and awakened once more.

His daughter hummed beside him, her gaze fixed to the boy. “What are your thoughts, father?”

“He is decent.” The boy flipped over three assassins in a singular fluid motion before disarming one and throwing that knife towards another. “You may keep him.” 

Talia bowed her head in gratitude, “Thank you.” 

He inclined his head in return, subtle and deliberate, before standing up. All movement in the room ceased. Everyone looked up, stilling beneath the weight of his gaze. 

“Enough,” his voice carried weight and power. “You are all dismissed.” 

Ra’s turned, not giving them a second glance. He walked out with unhurried steps. He did not need to see more. 

The boy had proven himself and his daughter was already attached. There was little he could do but allow her to keep him. 

That was the last time he expected to hear about his daughter’s new pet. 

But then, Ra’s found himself searching for him.

It should have been unnecessary. The boy should not have been in his mind at all after that day. He was his daughter’s problem, not his. 

And yet… everywhere Ra’s went, whispers of the boy followed. 

His people spoke of him with unease. 

They spoke of his reflexes, how he moved with ease as he cut through seasoned assassins. They muttered about his scent and how incredibly muted it was. It was as if he wasn’t there. And always, they would speak of his eyes. How unnaturally empty it was. How hollow. How defeated.

The boy was not one of them but his name threaded through their tongues as if he was. 

He slipped into the training hall without announcement. None of his Shadows noticed his arrival, he had taught them long ago that if he wished to be seen, then he would allow it.

Talia stood at the edge of the mats, her gaze fixed on the boy. He moved through her chosen assassins with mechanical precision. He was efficient, adaptive, learning with each strike- flaws corrected once and never again repeated. 

Even hollow-eyed, even muted, he fought as though he was the incarnation of survival.

Begrudgingly, he was impressed. The boy had a certain instinct that no training could manufacture. The Detective had chosen him for a reason and Ra’s could not blame him for it. 

He could not tear his eyes away and then, in the middle of motion, the boy stopped. 

His body went rigid, unnaturally still, and the entire hall froze in confusion. Slowly, his head turned, and his empty eyes fixed directly on the shadows where Ra’s stood concealed.

The boy bowed.

A ripple of shock tore through the hall. None of the assassins hesitated. One by one, they followed the boy’s lead. 

Even Talia’s brows lifted, surprise flickering across her composed features. None of them had sensed him. No one but the boy.

Ra’s let the silence stretch before he stepped forward, his presence flooding the room. He did not look at the men as they dropped lower in deference. 

He walked toward his daughter, who was watching him with narrowed eyes. 

Once noise began to fill the room again, he turned to his daughter.

“Tell me about the boy. How has his progress been?”

The corner of her mouth lifted.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and every day, the boy continued to improve. 

He got faster, sharper, more lethal. Lessons were absorbed with unnatural speed. If he had more time, Ra’s had no doubt that the boy would’ve flourished under the Detective’s tutelage into something formidable.

That, however, was not what fate had in store. Ra’s did not know why they brought the boy back to life but he would stop at nothing until he found out.

When the healers studied him, their faces were drawn and their voices hushed as though the boy himself might hear.

He is bondless. They revealed. It should be impossible. 

But Ra’s was beginning to understand that the boy was someone whose very being defied that word. 

No designation survived untethered for long, and yet the boy endured. 

The healers showed the scans and his body bore the signs- fever, strain, instability- and yet, the boy did not break. 

More time passed and the boy still lived.

The healers confessed they did not know how much longer he could last. His condition defied every record, every teaching. He should not have been able to stand, much less fight.

“Impossible,” they whispered, again and again- as if repeating the word might undo the reality before them.

Ra’s agreed to his daughter’s whims easily. 

With a simple nod, it was confirmed, the boy would be allowed to submerge in the Lazarus Pit. 

He warned her of the risks. The boy who entered would not be the same as the one who emerged. 

The Pit gave life, but it also took. It carved away what it wished, left scars no blade could match. Ra’s had seen men return brilliant, and others return broken. 

The boy could be either.

And yet, Ra’s was not worried.

The waters boiled when the boy’s body was lowered in. 

Talia held her breath as his skin vanished beneath the green glow and her knuckles were white where she gripped the rail. He underestimated just how attached she got. 

Ra’s stood unmoving and kept his eyes fixed on the surface. He had watched this countless times and had been the subject even more. 

Though, this time… it felt different. Was different.

The Pit roared and the boy thrashed, limbs jerking, lips parting in a soundless cry. Steam rose around him and the stench of chemicals filled the air. 

For a moment, Ra’s wondered if the boy would vanish into the madness that had claimed so many before him.

But then his head broke the surface.

He gasped, ragged and wild, eyes burning with unnatural light. The Shadows shifted uneasily, muttering prayers under their breath. Ra’s silenced them with a glance.

The boy lived again.

… And when he turned to him-

For first time since the boy had left Gotham, Ra’s could see emotion in his eyes.

The days that followed were fevered.

The boy’s body burned with the aftershocks of the Pit. At times he lay still as stone, breath shallow, sweat beading across his brow. 

At others he thrashed against the sheets, muscles seizing, incoherent sounds torn from his throat. The healers kept their distance and even Talia’s hand was sometimes pushed aside by the violence of it.

Ra’s watched, patient and unmoving. He had seen the Pit reshape men before. The life that the waters gave was not without cost. They carved, they remade, and they always demanded a price.

And as days passed, the boy began to change.

He was presenting.

It took time- presenting always did. The body reshaped itself and their instincts sharpened. It was supposed to be a painless process. 

But like always, the boy was different. 

It began with his scent.

At first it was faint, barely noticed. Then it grew, sharper by the day, until it filled the chamber so completely that no one could ignore it. 

No one could deny it. 

It was sweet, warm, and undeniably omega. The kind of scent that packs once anchored themselves around.

His people whispered in disbelief and even Talia was shocked, not once expecting this outcome. 

“Impossible,” they repeated once again. “That’s impossible.” 

Ra’s did not talk. He only stared as he stood in the doorway, watching as the truth settled across the room. The healers bowed their heads, muttering in disbelief. 

The Shadows kept their eyes lowered, eyes darting to the boy and Talia pressed a trembling hand to her lips, grief and relief woven into one.

And Ra’s, like always, remembered.

The date was burned into him- the anniversary of his wife’s death, the last omega of their line. 

The same day fate had chosen to return another. It could not be chance.

And Ra’s never believed in coincidence.

Fate had taken and now fate had restored.

Chapter Text

The boy did not take kindly to his new designation. 

Ra’s expected nothing less. Revelation was never kind to the ones who’d been lied to the longest.

The omega fought it the only way he knew how- by denying it, by lashing out, and by trying to make himself small again. His scent flickered between defiance and panic, a storm that clung to the walls of the infirmary.

Once again, the healers kept their distance.

The boy’s pheromones made their cheeks redden, a thin flush betraying the strain of their control. 

They had tended assassins and pulled them from the edge of death. They watched as the essence of the Lazarus Pit stitched flesh back together into pristine perfection.

Yet none of them had ever faced this. 

The scent pouring from the boy was unlike any other. It was warm, alive, and unbelievably sweet.

The awe loosened their discipline. 

One forgot to blink, while another’s hands trembled around his tools. Ra’s saw it spread through them like fever and said nothing. It pleased him to see that even his most hardened healers could still remember wonder.

He gave them a few minutes to take it in before speaking. 

“Enough.”

It was one word, but it cut through their awe like a blade through silk. The nearest healer flinched while the others froze mid-breath.

“Record his vitals,” he continued, not raising his voice. “Then leave. He requires time and silence to comprehend the past few days.”

They obeyed instantly, fumbling with instruments that suddenly seemed crude beside what they had witnessed. Within moments the chamber emptied, their footsteps fading down the corridor until only the slow, uneven rasp of the boy’s breathing remained.

The scent followed him into the hall, faint, but persistent. As if it was a promise disguised as fragility. He could almost feel the atoms themselves tilting around it. The balance of nature shifting to account for what should not exist.

It was a familiar feeling and instantly, Ra’s knew that something deeper was happening. 

Once again, the world was beginning to change. 

And Ra’s al Ghul was certain that Jason Todd would have an important role to play when the time came. 

His daughter was waiting for him outside. 

She stood a few paces from the door, arms crossed, her expression carved into calmness that didn’t reach her eyes. The corridor was dim and the torches along the wall hissed softly, throwing long shadows across the stone.

“He’s stable.” he said, before she could ask.

Talia looked up at him. “The healers said as much when they rushed out.” 

There was an accusation hidden in her words. 

“He would not have wanted to be gawked at when he woke up.” Ra’s tried to explain, “He is already struggling to accept what he’s become.” 

“And you think isolation will help him?” Talia’s tone was measured, but the edge beneath it was sharp. “He wakes up confused and disoriented in silence. He calls for no one and flinches and growls when someone tries to touch him. The last thing the pup needs is to be alone.”

It never failed to fascinate him just how attached she had become to the boy. 

“The boy is no longer a pup.” 

A low sound escaped her throat. A warning more than a growl and Ra’s chose his next words carefully. “He had just presented and he was frightened. Every scent and sound will press on him until he cannot tell comfort from threat. Too much interference will only worsen it.”

“One could argue that no interference will worsen it as well.” Talia shot back. “He will drown in that silence, father. His mind will come up with the worst scenarios. What he needs is interaction and a vow that no harm will come to him.”

He sighed, the faintest tilt of his head acknowledging her reasoning. A long silence stretched between them; the torches flickered, throwing her face in alternating gold and shadow.

“I see your point,” he said at last. “But too much attention will have him on the edge. He must be given time to adjust, or he will be consumed by it.”

Talia’s arms loosened, but her gaze did not waver. “Then give him time. With someone beside him to remind him he is safe while he finds his footing.”

Ra’s considered that, the corner of his mouth twitching toward something like approval. “One presence, then. No more.”

“I will stay,” she said quietly.

“I expected nothing less.”

The tension eased between them, replaced by the faint hum of the torches. 

The two al Ghuls exited the building and soon, only the boy’s scent remained. Faint yet full of promise.

The next few days blended together and soon enough, weeks had passed.

The omega’s condition barely improved. His fever broke and the tremors eased, but his eyes became more distant, similar to how they used to look before he was submerged in the pit. 

If Ra’s had not seen the ferocity of emotions that laid in the boy’s eyes when he first met his gaze after his presentation, then he would have believed that the pit was losing its touch. 

It was clear to him that stagnation did not stem from the Pit at all, but from the boy himself. His body and mind had been mended but his spirit was not fully whole yet.

Ra’s wondered if it was due to the boy’s presentation or because of the second chance he’s been granted. 

The boy was full of mystery that he deeply wanted to solve. 

He observed Jason for hours at a time, the way his breathing slowed to something almost deliberate, as though he was consciously keeping himself small.

When Talia entered, the scent of jasmine and steel filled the room. She carried a tray of broth that had long gone cold, her movements careful and deliberate.

“He will not eat,” she said quietly, setting the bowl aside. “He turns away when anyone speaks. He no longer reacts to my voice.”

“He is simply rebuilding,” Ra’s answered but the doubt was clear in his voice. “Too much interference will disrupt the process.”

“Perhaps.” Talia’s jaw tightened. “Or maybe we’ve been going at this the wrong way.”

He looked at her curiously.

She exhaled, gaze softening as she looked down at Jason through the clear glass. “You remember how Damian used to follow him before.” she murmured. “Before the Pit, before his presentation- the two were inseparable. Damian would sit beside Jason for hours after they trained, just talking to him. One night, he admitted that Jason’s presence made the world quieter. More peaceful.” 

Ra’s’ brow lifted slightly in surprise.

Talia’s voice grew steadier. “The healers claim his mind is unresponsive to reason, to command. Then perhaps it needs familiarity instead. Comfort. Let Damian see him. The boy trusted him once and perhaps that trust can bring him back.”

Ra’s studied her for a long moment. The idea was emotional and sentimental. They were traits that he no longer prioritized after his wife’s death. 

But yet… he could not deny the precision behind her reasoning. They’ve been looking at Jason’s condition through the eyes and practices of modern society. 

Perhaps it was time to borrow a method from the past. 

It took time to arrange everything. 

Damian barely reached his knee, but the boy’s silence carried weight. His scent, once sharp with defiance, had softened and threaded now with something that smelled of hope. 

The boy hesitated at the threshold. His gaze found Jason, and for a moment the confidence that Ra’s had so meticulously cultivated in his grandson seemed to vanish.

“He got bigger,” Damian murmured under his breath.

Ra’s and Talia exchanged looks but said nothing. He simply gestured in front of him. 

Damian followed the unsaid instructions. He crossed the room, climbed into the chair beside the bed, and sat.

Nothing happened.

Jason remained still, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow.

Then Damian leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “You skipped training again,” he said, as if it was an ordinary day. “Mother says I have to spar with one of the Shadows instead but I told her it wasn’t the same.” He paused. “They’re not you.”

The silence stretched and grew more uncomfortable by the minute. 

Ra’s almost spoke in order to end it and reclaim control but the boy’s words hung in the air like a prayer, and then… something shifted.

Jason inhaled sharply. 

It was not the reflexive gasp of one roused by pain. It was a sound with weight, with meaning. His scent surged and it was no longer sterile and muted by fear. It deepened into something warm, sweet and so obviously omega. 

Damian’s eyes widened in shock.

Jason’s eyelids fluttered once, twice, before they fully opened. The color beneath them was dull at first, fogged and unfocused, but then his gaze found the source of the voice.

For a heartbeat, no one moved as confusion faded from the omega’s eyes, replaced by faint awareness. His lips parted, a dry sound escaping that might have been a word.

“Little… shadow. Pup.” The boy spoke quietly, voice rough and broken and yet it carried enough weight to make everyone pause. 

The effect on his grandson was immediate.

Damian froze where he stood. His spine straightened, shoulders drawn taut, and for the first time since his birth, Ra’s saw uncertainty flicker across the boy’s face. His scent faltered, defiance replaced by confusion and something rawer, something instinctive.

The child had never been around an omega before. Let alone been this close to one. 

Ra’s watched with detached interest as the boy’s composure unraveled. Damian’s pupils dilated; his breathing stuttered. He was struggling to understand what his instincts already knew. The omega’s scent was ancient, commanding, and the young pup responded without thought.

Talia took a step forward, but Ra’s raised a hand to stop her. He wanted to know what would happen.

Jason’s hand reached the edge of the bed. His fingers brushed the air, searching. Damian hesitated only a second before catching them between his own.

The change was immediate.

The monitors steadied. The frantic flutter beneath Jason’s ribs evened into rhythm. His scent softened, no longer a warning or a plea, but something quiet, belonging.

“My pup.” The omega murmured under his breath. “Mine.” 

Damian looked up with wonder. As if the sight in front of him was a trick. “Omega.” He responded back.

Ra’s watched the bond take root.

The way the child’s breathing synced with Jason and how tension melted from both of them in the same breath. The power of it was not loud. It was subtle, patient, but inevitable.

Talia pressed a hand to her mouth, her scent shifting with disbelief and something dangerously close to relief.

He climbed onto the bed without invitation and settled beside the omega, small hand still wrapped in Jason’s.

Ra’s let it continue longer than he should have. He told himself it was for observation, and not sentiment.

The pup’s head had bowed, resting lightly against the omega’s arm. The two were in their own world. They were bound by instinct, connecting them together in ways that are still incomprehensible by a majority. 

When Ra’s turned to leave, he felt the faintest smile forming on his face.

The progress was undeniable. 

The haze that once clouded his eyes had lifted, replaced by quiet awareness. He trained again, slow and deliberate, relearning the weight of his own body. 

The omega still moved like a soldier, but now there was something sharper behind each motion- thought, control, and purpose.

Damian would not leave Jason’s side. The bond between them had only continued to grow. 

Ra’s allowed it. The child had become the omega’s anchor, and in return, the omega tempered the boy’s edges. Their scents had intertwined so thoroughly that even the halls carried traces of them- warm spice and steel wrapped in something softer. 

The League had learned to adapt. The pair were regarded as one, and peace, for a time, settled over Nanda Parbat.

But peace was a fickle thing.

It began with the way his daughter watched the omega.

Talia’s eyes followed Jason during his morning drills, her silence heavier than usual. There was pride there, yes, but also hesitation. She lingered after each session, hovering in that fragile space between satisfaction and grief.

Ra’s noticed. He always noticed.

He did not ask. He knew better by now. But he catalogued every flicker of her scent, every pause of her breath when Jason laughed at something Damian said.

Whatever weighed on her would surface soon enough. It always did.

And it did.

She came to him that evening, long after the torches had been lit. The shadows stretched long across the corridor, painting her in fragments of gold and black.

“He has healed,” she said simply.

Ra’s did not look up from his parchment. “The healers confirmed as much.”

Her tone sharpened. “Not his body. His mind.”

That made him pause. He set the quill aside. “Go on.”

Talia’s gaze drifted toward the open balcony. The wind carried the faintest trace of rain, mingled with the scent of desert jasmine. “He is himself again. I see it in the way he stands. In how he protects Damian even when he does not need to. He has… peace, I think.”

Ra’s regarded her carefully. “And that troubles you.”

“I want him to keep it,” she said softly. “But I cannot lie to him and pretend the world that broke him has changed.”

Ra’s leaned back in his chair. “You would tell him.”

“He deserves to know.”

His brows furrowed. “Know what?”

She met his gaze, steady and unflinching. “That the Joker still lives. That Bruce let him. That Bruce replaced him.”

The room seemed to still. The torches hissed softly, the flame bending in the sudden draft.

“You would tell him that?” Ra’s asked, voice deceptively quiet.

“He has earned the truth.”

“He has earned peace,” Ra’s countered. “And you would shatter it.”

“Peace built on ignorance is not peace, Father. It is mercy disguised as cruelty.”

He studied her for a long moment, saying nothing. The weight of centuries sat between them, two philosophies in eternal opposition. His order and her compassion.

At last he sighed. “And what will you do when the truth destroys what remains of him?”

“Then I will help him rebuild,” she said, her voice trembling only slightly. “As I did before.”

Ra’s stared at her, and in that moment, he saw his wife in her. The same dangerous kindness that once defied him. He could not stop her. He knew that.

So he simply said, “Do as you must.”

Talia inclined her head in silent gratitude and left, her steps light, her scent steady.

Ra’s remained alone, staring into the dark. 

Outside, thunder rolled across the peaks.

He did not see them together that night, but the air in the mountain changed before dawn.

The omega’s scent, once calm, had deepened into something heavy and electric. Grief and rage and purpose tangled so tightly they were indistinguishable.

Ra’s found Talia waiting in the corridor outside Jason’s chamber. She did not speak, but her eyes told him everything.

He passed her without a word.

Inside, Jason was awake. The shadows carved harsh lines across his face, and his knuckles were bloodied from where he’d struck the stone wall. Damian slept curled in a chair beside him, unaware.

Jason’s head turned as Ra’s entered. For the first time since his resurrection, there was fire in the omega’s gaze.

Ra’s met it without flinching.

“She told you,” he said.

Jason’s jaw clenched. “He’s alive.”

“Yes.”

“And Bruce-”

“Did nothing.”

Jason laughed once, low and humorless. There was something in the omega’s eyes. As if something had been confirmed. “Of course he didn’t.”

Ra’s said nothing. The sound of rain against the window filled the silence between them.

“I’m glad she told me.” 

“Why?”

Jason looked down at his hands. “Because she didn’t lie to me. She didn’t cover it up with false promises and pretty words.” 

He seemed as if he was replaying memories in his head. When no sound escaped the boy’s throat during the next few minutes, Ra’s took the hint and left the room.

Talia was still standing where he’d left her. Her expression was unreadable.

“He will not stay.” Ra’s said.

“I know.”

Ra’s watched from the balcony as Jason trained alone in the courtyard below. 

Each strike was cleaner than the last, precise and controlled, but beneath the calm there was power. Sharp and undeniable

Damian stood at the edge of the mat, uncertain and quiet, learning too soon what it meant to love something that refused to be caged.

His gaze lingered on the omega below, on the way sunlight caught the faint green of his eyes, on the inevitability of his leaving.

It was only a matter of when.

Months had passed and the omega still remained with them. 

He trained long after the torches had burned out, the whisper of his blade carving through the courtyard air long past midnight. 

When he was not sparring, he was studying- scrolls, maps, languages, and records of old masters whose names even the League had begun to forget. Anything he could get his hands on, he absorbed like a man who feared he was running out of time.

Ra’s had seen this before, in soldiers who survived what should have killed them. The need to prove that the miracle of their survival had purpose.

He did not intervene. He simply watched until the time had finally come.

It was during one of those sleepless nights that Jason approached Talia. The conversation was quiet, carried on by the wind that swept through the courtyard.

“I’ve reached the limit of what I can learn here,” Jason said. His tone was calm, almost deferential. “You and your father have given me more than I deserved and for that, I will always be thankful. But there’s more out there and I-.”

Talia’s eyes softened. “You wish to leave?”

“Not leave,” he corrected. “Expand.” He hesitated, glancing toward the far horizon where the peaks gave way to shadow. “There’s people out there I want to learn from. Skills I want to hone. I want… I want to prove to him that I wasn’t a failure. That even though I died, I was still a good Robin. And-“ Jason’s voice hitched. “I want proof that he loved me. That I meant something to him.”

Ra’s stood in the archway above them, unseen but listening as their conversation continued. 

Talia had not spoken yet but he already knew what the outcome would be. 

His daughter would not deny him.

The omega had a plan.

He would train with masters long sought after. The Dragon of the South. The One Who is All. The monks hidden in the mountains. And several others.

Jason wanted to learn from all of them.

And as expected, his daughter agreed to his whims easily.

Talia could not be reasoned with. Emotions had taken over and he could not find it in himself to blame her.

She was putting her son and his wants first.

His wife would have been proud.

Damian did not react well to the omega’s departure.

That was expected, of course. 

The pup trained harder than ever as if his blood and sweat could summon Jason back. 

When Talia tried to speak to him, he ignored her. When the servants brought food, he sent them away. He spent his days in the courtyard until his arms shook due to sheer exhaustion.

One afternoon, Ra’s watched him train. He took it all in. His stance, the grasp on his weapon, the way his eyes softened when he looked at the birds chirping around them. 

He saw everything. 

So Ra’s was not surprised when Damian’s grip on his sword loosened, causing it to drop to the ground. 

He stood very still, shoulders heaving, before he finally whispered, “I thought he would stay.” The air soured. “I thought that I would’ve been enough to get him to stay.” 

The boy’s scent was sharp with grief, undercut by confusion and the first sting of betrayal. He was too young to understand that affection often demanded distance, that sometimes love took the shape of absence.

“He didn’t even let me see his face,” Damian continue quietly, voice fraying at the edges. “Every time I asked, he refused.”

Ra’s’ gaze softened. He had not considered it before, but the child was right. 

The omega had always hidden behind his hood or the curtain of his hair, his features lost to shadow and fever. 

To the pup, the man who had become his anchor had never taken a full form. Only warmth without a face and a voice without shape.

Ra’s placed a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, “He cared for you more than you know. He saw you worthy enough to be bonded to him.” He made sure to meet Damian’s eyes so the message was clear. “You meant the world to him and he would’ve done anything for you.”

The boy’s breathing hitched, but he did not cry. He bent down, picked up his sword, and returned to stance.

Ra’s continued to watch. 

He did not lie. 

If Damian had asked the omega to stay, he would’ve without hesitation. 

Jason was loyal to a fault.

The Detective had no idea how lucky he was. 

It was Talia’s idea to send his grandson to the Bat. 

Ra’s did not interfere but a part of him wished he did.

His chest ached as he felt the broken bond in his chest. 

He could still remember Talia’s sobs echoing in his ear as the realization that not only did Damian choose his father over her but he also willingly chose to cut off all contact and connection with the League. 

It was an outcome neither of them expected.

And it was one of the three reasons that Ra’s began to lose respect of the symbol of the Bat.

Weeks later, a single letter left Nanda Parbat.

It bore the seal of the Demon’s Head and the name Damian Wayne.

It was proper courtesy.

The note was brief, written by Ra’s’ own hand. Measured, detached, and without flourish. 

The omega under our care met his end while pursuing mastery.

Rites were observed and his ashes had been scattered. 

May he forever rest in peace. 

While others may have deemed it cruel, Ra’s deemed it necessary. 

There were truths too dangerous to share and silences too valuable to break.

The League did not lose what it intended to protect. They would go to any length required to keep its secrets intact.

Damian al Ghul no longer existed 

And the League held no loyalty to a boy who called himself Damian Wayne.

Ra’s kept a close eye on Jason Todd.

From the shadows of his networks, he charted the boy’s movements. The omega who now called himself Red Hood.

Ra’s’ informants left no detail behind.

Through them, he saw everything: the missions, the close calls, the silent distance between the Red Hood and the bats. They spoke of the omega’s restlessness, of how the Detective’s brood drew him closer only to crush him beneath the weight of their suspicion.

They patrolled his territory without invitation, interfered with his work, monitored his movements through his own network of safe houses.

They moved around Jason with all the instincts of a pack, but without the bond.

The alphas guarded him as though he were a weapon that might turn in their hands.

They surrounded him and demanded his loyalty, his restraint, and his silence, yet none of them offered the bond that would have made those things possible.

He could tell they cared; their actions stank of it.

The way the eldest tracked his movements. The way the second always interfered when the younger one struck too hard.

Even the Detective, cold and deliberate, could not disguise the strain in his eyes whenever the Red Hood bled.

But care without comprehension was nothing. It was a leash disguised as mercy.

Ra’s wondered why the Detective never reintegrated him. Why the man who once called the boy his son would allow him to circle the pack’s edges like a starving animal barred from the den.

Even now, Bruce Wayne did not know what he kept at a distance. He did not know that the creature he had exiled was an omega. The first proper one that the world had seen in decades.

The irony would have amused Ra’s if it had not disgusted him.

To cast out an omega was folly.

To cast out this omega was sacrilege.

The Detective prided himself on sight, yet remained blind to the one thing the world could not afford to lose.

Still, he did not move. Not yet. Patience had built empires, and this plan would demand one.

The Detective’s family called it concern. They claimed it was protection. But Ra’s knew the scent of intrusion when he smelled it.

They had stripped the omega of solitude. The one sanctuary a creature like him required to survive and replaced it with constant surveillance. They smothered his instincts, then blamed him when he gasped for air.

His reports described how they broke into his safe houses, pawed through his files, dismantled his routines, and told themselves it was for his safety.

They dragged him into their cave of stone and shadow, demanding explanations for choices he was never meant to justify.

They humiliated him in front of the pack, questioned his loyalty, stripped him of tools, of dignity, of air.

They treated his silence as rebellion, his independence as betrayal, his pain as proof of guilt.

The Detective still did not see it. None of them did.

They still believed him an alpha.

And yet, even if that lie had been true. Even if Jason Todd had truly been an alpha, their treatment of him would still have been unforgivable.

An alpha cast from his pack is a wound that never heals. To deny one reintegration, to strip him of autonomy and then parade him beneath the weight of command, was cruelty of the most deliberate kind.

No creature, regardless of designation, should be caged beneath the guise of love.

Ra’s found no honor in it.

A pack that cannot protect its own does not deserve to exist.

Ra’s despised them for it.

Even from a continent away, he could almost recall the omega’s scent. Warm spice dulled by suppression, sweetness buried under smoke. The memory clung to him like phantom heat, proof of what they were destroying.

And yet, somewhere beneath the disgust, something colder stirred. A thread of satisfaction that he refused to name.

Every humiliation they dealt him, every intrusion into his den, every condescending word uttered in the name of care... it all served him.

Each act of cruelty severed another strand that tethered Jason to them.

Each violation carved the fracture wider, until one day, it would split entirely.

Every cruelty tightened the thread that would one day snap. He did not need to reach for it; gravity itself would deliver the boy back to him.

The worse they treated him, the easier it would be.

He did not have to lift a hand; they were unraveling the bond for him.

Ra’s closed the report slowly. The motion was precise, reverent, as one might handle the weapon of a fallen enemy.

Patience, he reminded himself.

The boy was not ready to be pack. Not yet.

His instincts were still confused and buried beneath years of false dominance and the suffocating pretense of equality. 

The Detective’s house had taught him to mistrust his nature, to see devotion as weakness and submission as shame.

That lesson would need to die before anything new could be born.

The end was coming.

Ra’s could sense it in the pattern of the reports, in the tone of his informants’ writing, in the steady acceleration of Gotham’s descent. Jason Todd was nearing the point where pain and clarity would meet.

And when that moment came...

When the boy finally understood the difference between command and care, between belonging and control- Ra’s would not need to summon him.

The omega would come of his own accord and the League would be ready to receive him.

Still though, there was no harm in giving fate a little guidance.

A nudge in the right direction.