Bruce never thought he'd have a daughter. He'd always had sons, adopted or not, but they were always sons. Boys were easier; they were interested in soccer and video games. And girls? It was a bit different.

You'd been taking ballet since you were five. Gymnastics, volleyball, horseback riding, singing – you could take any extracurricular activities you wanted. Bruce expected a lot of you, especially since you were the only one of siblings who wasn't part of Gotham's defense.

Bruce had high expectations for every child, even though boys could get away with more. They could stay up late, go to parties, make mistakes, and be human – but you, on the other hand, were supposed to be the perfect daughter. The one he showed off at galas and praised to others. You were supposed to be his pride, someone who would ensure his lineage continued. And you were punished for the slightest mistake, simply because you were a daughter.

After raising Dick, he was certain he could raise a few more children – dreams dashed by Jason. Jason had been awful as a child. Bruce lost his mind trying to talk to him. Why couldn't all his children be like Dick?

Bruce was a strict parent. Sure, his eyes softened every time he looked at you and your siblings, but his tone never wavered. He had high expectations and demanded that you all meet them. And oh, none of you want his arm around you when you disappoint him.