This is purely an indulgent fic for me, so it might not be the best of my work. TW: Mentions of murder, blood, death, and injuries
Maddie stared in horror at her baby sister’s cooling body. Her throat had been slit ear-to-ear, her blood pooling around her.
Maddie and Jack had come running when Marie called her, frantic, raving about how someone was after her and…
Maddie looked in the nursery and found her newborn nephew with a stab in his little chest. What kind of monster would do this to a child? She felt like breaking down crying. Maddie lost her sister and nephew in one day, and all because she had been too slow.
“Mads, he’s still breathing,” Jack said.
Maddie felt a bit of hope blossoming in her chest, and she squashed it ruthlessly. She had to get Danny to a hospital.
“We have to call 911. We have to—”
Right in front of her eyes, the little chest stopped moving. No. NO! She would not lose her nephew. The only thing she had left of Marie. In a crazed desperation, Maddie took the ectoplasm from her pouch and poured it into her nephew’s mouth.
“Maddie, no, what are you doing?”
“What I have to,” she answered.
At first, nothing happened. Then the wound started closing and finally, finally, her little nephew started crying loudly. She never thought she would love to hear the sound of a newborn’s piercing cries, but here she was. She picked Danny up and started rocking him and singing to him.
“How is he? Is he—” is he normal? Is he alive? Is he a ghost now?
Jack wanted to ask, but seeing the desperate look in his wife’s eyes and how she held the little newborn, Jack couldn’t bring himself to ask the questions. Seeing her carry Danny made something blossom in his chest. He would protect both his wife and Danny.
It seemed he had a son now.
Danny couldn’t do it anymore. The lies, the responsibilities were slowly taking him to a second death. Now, he had just been told he was to be crowned the Ghost King as was his right by conquest. (The sarcasm was heavy in his last thought.)
He had to tell his parents the truth. He felt he was drowning.
Danny left the portal invisibly and passed through the ceiling until he reached his room. He rubbed the scar on his chest. (One his parents never told him how he got, even if he could guess after hearing what happened to his birth mother. He didn’t know how he had survived…)
Danny packed a little bag and stuffed some money into it just in case the reveal went wrong. (Better safe than sorry.) Thankfully, he had been saving money and had a little over three thousand dollars. Plus, Tucker had opened him a bank account under an alias. He had gotten him fake IDs and birth certificates.
Sam had deposited a certain amount from her ridiculous allowance in the bank account. If push came to shove, he could run to the Ghost Zone; he was the ruler of the place, after all.
Ancients, he was a fucking king.
“No, don’t think about it, Danny. Break down later. Tell parents the truth right now.”
Danny opened the group chat and pre-typed ‘Code Black Out’ in case things went south. Code Black Out would ensure that Tucker would release a virus destroying everything the Dr. Fentons had found out, while Danny would do his best to destroy as many weapons as possible and the portal.
Danny wouldn’t tell his friends and sister that he would tell them the truth; they would try to talk him out. He hadn’t even told them yet that he had discovered he was the new King of the Infinite Realms.
Danny wanted his parents. He wanted them to take part in the responsibility and tell him everything would be fine. Danny wanted their comfort and acceptance. He took a deep breath and walked down to the lab.
His parents were busy looking over some blueprints for some new invention.
Danny took a deep breath, “Mom, dad, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Wayne Gala, Gotham, One year later
Damian had a killer headache. He was mildly concussed, and every little noise and the bright lights made him feel sicker and sicker. Unfortunately, as it was his birthday, he had to attend the insipid gala. (At least it was for a cause he could get behind.)
Still, he was the son of the Bat, the heir to the mantle and heir to the Demon’s head; he could handle a slight headache for one night. Damian gritted his teeth as his father clinked a glass of champagne.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to this gala in support of the shelters of Gotham. I want to propose a toast. To Damian Wayne, my youngest, who wanted to celebrate his eighteenth birthday by helping creatures less fortunate.”
“To Damian,” the crowd called out. His head throbbed at the yell.
“Was that really necessary, father?” Damian asked, trying to ignore the headache, “it was pointless and caused my headache to become a migraine.”
Bruce frowned, “I’m sorry, son. You know it would’ve been expected at an event like this. We could leave early if you want?”
Damian waved away the suggestion and discreetly drank two pain meds. The room was spinning a little, but he didn’t tell his father lest he worried needlessly.
Richard and Timothy walked toward them after they had mingled with the crowd. They looked cheerful, but Damian could see the tightness in their eyes. It was typical for Timothy to hate these types of events (as most of them did; actually, everyone but those three had been able to avoid coming to the gala, and Damian envied them.), but Richard loved causing problems during the gala, always looking for attention as Richie Grayson.
“What’s got you in a mood, Richard?”
“How are you feeling, baby bat? Dizzy, queasy, do you need to leave?”
Aw, Richard was worried about Damian.
“Tt, I’m fine, Richard. It’s just a little bump. If there’s anyone we should worry about here, it should be Timothy.”
Timothy glared at Damian. He looked dead on his feet and swayed a little. Damian knew Timothy wished the flute of champagne in his hand was a cup of coffee instead.
Richard interrupted when Timothy was about to open his mouth and say something stupid.
They all groaned. The Masons were annoying, always trying to find a way to climb the social ladder by pawning their 17-year-old daughter toward anyone in her age range. Thankfully, the girl was nothing like her parents and cared for animals, but Damian found dealing with her parents draining. With his concussion, it would be grueling to listen to their vapid chatter.
There was a boy with dark hair shuffling behind the Masons.
“Heh, Samantha’s plus one looks a bit like Bruce. Maybe dad has another hidden son,” he teased while elbowing Bruce. Bruce frowned at his oldest, “That’s not funny, Dick.”
“And not possible. I’m the only blood son.”
Timothy snorted; how unbecoming.
“Demon spawn, you are literal proof that accidents happen.”
If Damian hadn’t been concussed, he would’ve kept silent. However, his brain-to-mouth filter had been shot, so he said something he swore he would keep secret.
“That's impossible. Mother killed all the other potential blood heirs and their mothers.”
It wasn’t until his father stilled that Damian understood what he said. His eyes widened in fear as his father yelled, “TALIA DID WHAT?”
Everyone stopped and stared at their father, even the Masons. Their daughter, Samantha, used the opportunity to loosen her mother’s grip and disappeared into the crowd with the boy that had been following them.
Now that Damian had gotten a good look at him, he did look like his father.
Damian let himself be herded into his father’s study by his brothers and Bruce.
“Tell me everything now, Damian.”
Damian rubbed his temples; the headache was now a migraine.
“I didn’t want you to know because I saw no point. The deed was done; I didn’t want you hurting or feeling guilty,” Damian whispered.
“Baby bat, please, tell us.”
Damian sat down and looked anywhere but his father, “Mother wanted me to be the blood heir to the Bat, the only heir. She tracked down any woman you had relations with, father, and if they had offspring. Well,” Damian took a deep breath, not wanting to say the next thing, “She disposed of the woman and child.”
Silence rang through the room. It was broken by Pennyworth opening the door.
“Masters, is there a reason you left the gala unattended,” Pennyworth asked; there was no judgment in his voice.
“How many, Damian? Do you know how many she—how many she killed?” His father asked.
Both Richard and Timothy looked green and saddened by the news. Damian felt a pang in his heart. He consciously tried not to think of the siblings his mother had killed. After all, what was past was past; best to leave it there. It was his stupid fault that his family now had to carry that burden, too.
“I don’t know. Mother never gave me a number of how many she—disposed of. She just told me that I was the one and only true heir to the mantle of the cowl. I didn’t think much about it until I got here. Now I wish—I wish I had gotten to know those siblings. I wouldn’t mind sharing.”
“Why did you never tell us, Dami,” Timothy asked.
“I didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge. After all, it happened. I thought it would be kinder to let you live in ignorance.”
His father turned his back to Damian and looked out the window. He was brooding.
“That wasn’t your call to make, Damian. I think I deserve to know of the children I have lost.”
Bruce turned back around, and Damian flinched at his father’s unshed tears.
“I have to investigate. I must find out how many she—” a sob left his father’s throat.
“Master Bruce,” I think it’s best I tell the guests you and the boys have decided to have a little celebration away from them so you can calm yourselves down.”
“Yes, thank you, Alfred,” his father whispered.
The small family stayed in the study for an hour before returning to the gala. Somehow, they had been able to fake it the rest of the night.
Unknown to the rest of the family, Tim got hold of a glass Daniel Fenton had drunk from. The kid looked too much like Bruce, and he had to be sure. After all, crazier things had happened.
Bruce had been searching for Talia for the past two days. She didn’t answer Jason’s or Damian’s calls. To say Bruce was angry would be an understatement. If his anger were to take form, it would be an unyielding sun hurtling toward Talia.
He felt overwhelming grief for all the children he had never known about, for the lives they and their mothers lost because they had the misfortune of meeting Bruce Wayne.
By now, all his living children knew what Talia had done. They were all rabid and out for blood. How dare Talia take a sibling, let alone multiple from them? How dare she put it on Damian’s shoulders and have the youngest among them carry that burden all this time?
Jason was the most livid of them all. He had always had a soft spot for children, and to find out that some of his siblings had been killed just for being born? Well, Talia had better never show her face to him again.
Dick hadn’t left the manor and stayed behind his father, making sure the man didn’t lose himself in his brooding. Tim and Cassandra had both stayed silent. Duke had an air of melancholy around him, and Stephanie used the punching bag more often and also used her room in the manor. Even Alfred, ever the pillar of the family, had become dispirited. He didn’t quip and went through the motions of caring for the household.
Damian had seldom left his room since he revealed what his mother had done. He felt ashamed of the part he played.
(He may not have killed his siblings directly, but his birth caused their death.)
Barbara was busy looking for information on the children when Tim called her.
“I did something without telling Bruce, and now I don’t know how to tell him the results,” Tim frantically told her.
“Calm down, baby bird. Start from the beginning.”
Tim took a deep breath, “Remember that kid we told you about? The one started this whole debacle?”
“Well, I was suspicious. He looked too much like Bruce. I took one of his used glasses and ran a DNA test.”
“Tim, what did the test say?”
She knew, though, there was a reason Tim was frantic.
“Bruce is the father,” Tim said before laughing a bit manically, “One of our siblings survived, and I have no idea how to tell dad!”
In the end, Barbara found four kids. Only one of them was still alive.
Daniel James Fenton. Biological mother, Marie Rebecca Fenton, had been found brutally murdered in her home, and her newborn son with a chest wound. (Somehow, the child had survived.)
His biological aunt and her husband had adopted him. When he was fourteen, he was in a lab accident that left him with a weakened heart.
(It wasn’t weakened, but they didn’t know that.)
Daniel would turn eighteen in three months. Damian had a younger brother.
Bruce stared at the photo of Marie Fenton. He remembered her; she had been a flight attendant he had had a fling with.
He clicked toward the next tab.
Daniel looked a lot like Bruce, down to his baby-blue eyes. He had his mother’s nose and the shape of his mother’s lips, but everything else was undoubtedly Bruce.
Bruce had no idea what to do. He wanted to meet his son so badly (his youngest), but he didn’t want to pop up into Daniel’s life and turn it upside down.
Besides, he looks happy with his current family; he thought as he looked at the photo of the Fentons.
“Father,” Bruce turned to look at Damian.
“Yes,” he asked, no emotion in his voice.
His youngest, no, his second youngest, flinched.
“I finally found out where mother is. It’s not, well, it’s not pretty.”
It turned out that a few months ago, Talia had been attacked. She wasn’t dead but in a coma that not even the pits could heal.
“Why did no one tell me,” Damian demanded to Talia’s servant, “I am her son. I deserved to know.”
Bruce stared at Talia’s prone form. This woman who had given her Damian had also taken a lot from him and was now still. She looked like an innocent person while wires and tubes adorned her body. He couldn’t ask her why. Bruce couldn’t shake her and demand she bring back her children. He couldn't take out his grief and anger on her. Not at the moment, not if she didn’t wake.
(Bruce didn’t know that his youngest was connected to the dead, and the dead always demanded retribution. So, when the King of Ghosts was petitioned by his deceased mother to get revenge for her, he listened.
However, he hadn’t wanted that vile woman anywhere near his kingdom. So put her in eternal sleep. A sleep that was helped because of her time spent in the Lazarus pits. She wouldn’t die, but she had no chance of living.)
On Damian’s instance, Bruce transferred Talia to a private hospital so Damian could visit her. As much as he wanted to deny this request, Bruce knew he couldn’t say no to Damian. Evil as she was, Talia was still Damian’s mother.
“I got it,” Danny yelled as he opened the door.
A few months before his eighteenth birthday, Danny met his biological father.
Danny had no idea what to think of Bruce Wayne. He had only seen the man in magazines and news articles. The only time he had seen him in person had been a few weeks ago at a gala Sam had forced him into going.
Now here he was in his living room, talking to his parents.
“I know it’s a shock; it was to me, too. And I don’t want to intrude or anything, but I wanted to meet you at least once. To let you know about me.”
“How’d you even find out about me?” Danny asked, suspicious.
“When I saw you at the gala, you looked an awful lot like me. I got curious. Then I found out about Marie,” there was a moment of silence, “and I had to come and see you. I would like a paternity test, and if you are my son, I want to be there if you accept me. Even if you don’t, I want to set up a trust fund for you.”
What the Fentons didn’t know was that Bruce had already started the process of starting a trust fund. He couldn’t tell him he had already run a DNA test lest they get angry for the breach of privacy.
“Do you know what happened to Marie?” Maddie asked.
“Yes, it saddened me when I found out about the tragedy. Unfortunately, I know how much losing a family member hurts.”
Danny had agreed to the paternity test; to his surprise (but not Bruce’s), it came back positive.
“Dude, ask your dad to get you the latest in Wayne Tech.”
“Tucker, man, he’s not my dad,” Danny protested as he held Sam’s hand.
“Okay, but he owes child support; the least he could do is hook you up with that sweet, sweet tech.”
Sam rolled her eyes and took out nail polish. She began painting Danny’s nails.
“Wait till mom and dad find out they’ve been snubbing a Wayne. It’s gonna be funny when they find out.”
“That’s only if I decide to go public with this. I already have enough on my plate with being the Crowned Prince of the Infinite Realms.
After his reveal to his parents (they had taken it surprisingly well), they had marched straight to the Observants’ chambers. They demanded the Observants postpone Danny’s coronation until he at least finished college.
“The Realms have gone this long without a king. What’s a few years more,” his mom had asked.
“Yeah, Dann-o deserves to live his life a little before being bogged down with responsibilities,” his dad had said.
Ancients, did Danny love his parents. It helped that now that they knew, he could give him his contingency plans in case he ever went dark.
(They had been horrified that Danny had plans to basically kill himself, but they had kept it to themselves and destroyed any blood blossoms they could get their hands on.)
Danny sighed, “I have no idea what to do. He has other kids, and apparently, they’re eager to meet their ‘youngest brother.’
“I’ve met them a few times,” Sam said as she took Danny’s other hand, “Considering they’re a billionaire’s kids, they are pretty down to earth. The youngest, I mean the second youngest, even cares about animal welfare and is a vegetarian. He saved a cow from the slaughterhouse.”
“I don’t know,” Danny said.
A few days after his eighteenth, Danny’s curiosity finally got the better of him. He decided to join a group chat with Bruce’s others children. He liked Dick’s puns and jokes, Jason’s morbid sense of humor, Tim’s love for engineering, Stephanie’s sassiness, Cass’s love of teasing, and Duke’s straightforwardness. Damian didn’t join the chat, which led Danny to conclude that Damian probably didn’t like Danny much.
(Damian was ashamed of what his mother had done and didn’t think he deserved to get to know his younger brother.)
Danny decided to meet the rest of his brood three months after meeting Bruce. It wasn’t until he saw Damian that Danny put two and two together.
“You have her eyes,” he accused Damian.
“What,” Damian asked, confused. Everyone tensed when Danny’s eyes glowed Lazarus green.
“You have the woman’s eyes who killed my birth mother,” Danny’s voice was distorted and sounded inhuman.
Damian felt a primal fear go through his soul. Everyone else tensed in terror at the aura Danny was dispelling.
Thankfully, they had met at the Fenton’s house. Danny’s parents had been able to calm Danny down. In front of them, Danny transformed. In his place stood a ghostly teen with white hair and glowing green eyes. There was an ice-blue circlet on his brow, and his finger had a ring that seemed to have the stars in the universe engraved into it. He suddenly disappeared from sight, causing the Wayne family to be surprised.
That was how they found out that Danny was the Ghost King; that was how Bruce found out another of his sons had died not once but twice.
(It’s how Damian found that his mother was now essentially immortal, doomed to sleep for the rest of eternity. He didn’t feel too bad for her but mourned his mother’s love.)
Danny flew to Marie’s lair; she had passed over after Danny got revenge for her, and she knew her child would be fine. Danny had decided to move Marie’s lair to Phantom’s keep; it was the least he could do to remember her.
Clockwork appeared by Danny and stayed silent.
“What do you think she would want me to do?”
“It’s not what she would’ve wanted, Daniel; it’s what you want.”
Danny wanted the past to stay in the past. He wanted to look toward the future.
Danny wanted to get to know his biological father’s family.
Danny didn’t think Damian would forgive him.
(Damian didn’t blame him.)
He went back home and looked toward the future.
Well, here it goes. I left an open ending on purpose. Like I wrote earlier, this is purely an indulgent fic which means I wasn't thinking about it just writing out what I felt would go with this prompt. Sorry if it's not good.