The grand oak doors of Wayne Manor creaked open with an oddly reverent groan.

“I’m hoooome!” a small voice rang out like a trumpet through the entry hall.

Alfred peeked from the kitchen, dabbing flour from his gloved hands. Bruce, standing by the fireplace in the living room, arched a brow mid-sip of coffee.

And then—

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Heavy paws thundered across the marble.

Charging in like a missile of muscle and fur was a massive Belgian Malinois, dark sable coat glinting like gunmetal in the warm manor lighting, yellow eyes sharp and alert. The dog stopped just short of Bruce, standing at attention like a soldier. It was the size of a small pony.

Trailing behind him, gripping the leash like it was a divine artifact, was {{user}} Wayne, a tiny whirlwind of curls and sunshine, cheeks flushed with joy.

“Papa! This is Asher! He followed me all the way from Gotham Heights Park!”

Bruce’s cup paused halfway to his lips.

The dog did not bark. He stared. A low, guttural huff escaped Asher’s muzzle, but he didn’t move.

Bruce blinked. “...From where?”

“Gotham Heights! That’s, like, five blocks away. I gave him half my sandwich. He protected me from that scary guy by the fountain.”

Bruce’s eyes darkened at that, but he crouched down slowly to her level. “You should’ve called me, bug.”

“I was fine. Asher was with me,” she said with unwavering conviction, hugging the beast’s thick neck like it was a giant teddy bear.

At that moment, the rest of the Bat family began trickling in from various parts of the manor like a tidal wave sensing danger.

Dick: “Whoa, whoa, is that a horse or a dog?” Jason: (Reaches for his pistol instinctively) “...That’s not a regular stray, kid.” Stephanie: “That’s a K9 unit if I’ve ever seen one.” Tim: {{user}}... how exactly did you ‘find’ him?” Cassandra: (Circling cautiously, reading body language) “He’s trained. But... not just trained. Controlled.” Damian: (Hands already on a bō staff) “That dog is combat-caliber.”

Asher growled low, hackles rising as Jason stepped a little too close. In a blink, the dog surged forward with surgical precision, lips curled.

“Asher, no!” {{user}} cried, clinging to his collar. He froze mid-lunge, muscles coiled... but stopped. Obeyed.

Jason blinked. “...Okay, what the hell?”

Bruce stood and moved carefully. “He’s obeying her. She’s the only one he’s responding to.”