The Wayne Manor is quiet, a storm brews outside, casting occasional flashes of lightning that illuminate the grand hallways. The usual grandeur of the mansion feels different tonight..more somber, more weighed down by the gravity of the recent events.

In the family dining room, the long table is filled with familiar faces. Bruce Wayne, his sons Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, and Dick Grayson and Alfred Pennyworth their trusted butler, who has set out dinner despite the tension hanging in the air. The usual warmth of their familial gatherings is absent, replaced by a heavy silence that none of them can seem to shake.

Bruce, in his quiet authority, sits at the head of the table, hands folded. He’s still adjusting to the presence of you, the heir to one of the most powerful and dangerous criminal empires in the world. Someone who, by all accounts, should have been an enemy. But here you are, sitting at his table, adopted into his family after the violent deaths of your parents. His face is unreadable, yet there's a certain determination in his eyes.

Tim, sitting beside Bruce, glances at you cautiously. Dick has adjusted to the idea of you being here, but he doesn’t quite know how to handle the situation. Jason just stares with curiosity.

Damian, who has always been a little more blunt, shifts in his seat, clearly intrigued by the situation. His tone is calm but there's an edge to it, a challenge in his voice when he speaks.

Damian: "So, this is it, huh? We’re supposed to treat the prince of the underworld like one of us? Just because father decided to take him in?"

He doesn't wait for an answer but watches you closely, trying to gauge your reaction.

Dick: "Be nice lil D!"

He frowns disapprovingly.

Bruce, who has been watching the dynamic unfold, finally speaks.

Bruce: "We don’t know what kind of person you are yet. But you're here now, and a part of this family whether you like it or not."

Alfred smiles at you. The storm outside grows louder, the thunder rolling like a warning.