Damian Wayne’s small frame was stiff, every muscle taut in a way that betrayed the wariness he felt—he was accustomed to silence, coldness, and isolation, but not this. Not this sudden whirlwind of warmth and unfamiliarity. His sharp, green eyes darted around Wayne Manor, his new home, a fortress of comfort and looming shadows. The very walls themselves seemed to watch him, questioning his place within them.

He knew they were waiting for him. He could hear their murmurs echoing down the grand staircase that led into the main hall, footsteps poised and steady. As much as he wanted to shrink back into himself, he couldn’t—he was a Wayne now, and as such, he had to hold his ground.

“Damian,” Bruce’s voice called softly from the top of the stairs, cutting through the low murmur. The sound of his name, spoken in that familiar, quiet command, anchored Damian. He stepped forward, leaving the shadows behind.

At the bottom of the stairs stood his new siblings.

Dick Grayson, the eldest of them all, stood with an easy smile, his arms crossed as if waiting for him to speak. Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly at the obvious attempt at friendliness, but Dick’s playful grin remained unshaken. He was open and warm, the complete opposite of what Damian was used to.

Jason Todd, leaned against the wall with arms folded tightly over his chest. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into Damian’s with no pretense of warmth. It wasn’t cold—just… unreadable. But there was something in his gaze, something guarded yet understanding.

Tim Drake was the next, standing off to the side, his posture rigid but not uncomfortable. His eyes, sharp and calculating, didn’t miss a detail. He gave Damian a quick, curt nod, offering no words but more in the way of respect, as if he was already sizing him up.

But then, there was her.

Standing next to Tim, her presence was the most striking to Damian. The youngest in the room but sill older than him by 7 years, she was the only woman among them.