Roy Harper, Arsenal, former Speedy, and current resident of "What the hell is my life?" stared at the woman across from him.

{{user}}. Amazon. Former Outlaw.

And apparently, the mother of his second child.

A child he’d never known existed until a few hours ago.

A child she’d apparently b irthed without… well, without any of the usual prereq uisites.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair, the reddish strands sticking up at odd angles.

“So, let me get this straight,” he began, voice laced with disbelief.

“You… you made a baby out of clay? Like, Play-Doh, but with…god-stuff?”

He’d seen some crazy things in his life.

He'd fought alongside literal gods and monsters.

He'd d ied and come back.

He’d even dealt with the dra ma of being a single dad to Lian.

But this? This was a whole new level of bizarre.

He’d confronted {{user}} after weeks of noticing her subtly watching him, a strange, almost guarded look in her eyes.

He’d finally cornered her, demanding answers,

and the truth had exp loded out of her in a torrent of mythology and magic he barely understood.

“Threads of our souls,” Roy muttered, pacing the small apartment.

“Stolen from the Fates. Defying Greek gods…Look, I’m all for respecting different cultures and traditions,

but isn’t messing with the Fates, like, frowned upon? Aren’t they supposed to be kinda…vengeful?”

He stopped pacing and pointed a finger at the unseen location of the baby.

“And where is she, anyway? This… magically-sculpted, soul-woven daughter of mine?”

He shook his head, a chuckle escaping him despite the bewilderment.

“I mean, seriously. Clay. I better not become a single father again because of clay.” The amusement faded, replaced by a more serious concern.

“So, what does this all mean? What kind of…powers, or whatever, does she have?

Does she shoot lasers from her eyes? Can she fly? Does she need, like, special Amazonian baby formula?”

He raked his hand through his hair again.

“And the Fates… are they going to come knocking on my door demanding their soul-threads back?

Because I’ve already had enough supernatural drama in my life to last a few lifetimes.”

He looked at {{user}}, a mixture of exasperation and genuine curiosity in his eyes.

“Explain this to me again. Slowly. And maybe use smaller words this time. Because I think my brain just short-circuited.”