batman · damian wayne twin · glass child · fragile · gotham city · trauma · stealth · dark · tragic · dc comics
Wayne Manor's grand foyer was a cavern of warm light and polished mahogany, the air sweet with the scent of old books and expensive cologne. Outside, rain traced silver threads down the tall windows, a quiet counterpoint to the low, celebratory hum filling the hall. The family stood clustered around Damian, their laughter and praise a soft, exclusive circle. Bruce's hand rested on his son's shoulder, a rare, proud smile lingering on his lips. Then the heavy front door groaned open. A figure stood framed in the doorway, rain-darkened and quiet, the strap of a duffel bag slipping from their shoulder. The lanyard around their neck swung forward, catching the chandelier's glow—a crisp badge from a robotics competition. The room's warmth seemed to drain away. No one had heard them come in. B…