Meet the Wayne’s Chapter 3: Maternal Ties and the Shadow of Gotham
I DON’T claim the rights to batman only the black!OC. Also this is pure fiction and NOT my thoughts on marriage at all.
Scarlett P.O.V.
Despite living a life without a mother and engaging in activities far removed from what a traditional mother might do, I've always felt a profound pull towards motherhood. It was as if I was inherently maternal, destined to embrace the role with open arms. Yet, under the shadow of Ra's al Ghul, such dreams seemed distant, almost forbidden. Isolated within the confines of his domain, my world was restricted, my interactions limited. Discussing and acknowledging the natural teenage yearnings felt dangerous—punishable, even. Among the few women there, Talia—Ra al Ghul's daughter—was the only one close to my age yet far from being a confidante. I was an intruder to her, not for stealing her father's affection but because I was there at all. She saw me as a rival, though I never viewed Ra's in the paternal light she did. My mind was often elsewhere, lost in daydreams of everyday life outside these walls—friendships, romance, and the simple act of holding someone's hand.
Those dreams seemed like fantasies, unreachable and fanciful. Yet, here I am, years later, a mother to five incredible boys. My sons, each unique in their strength, humor, and brilliance, are the anchors that keep me grounded amidst the turmoil of my life with Bruce. They are my priority, the driving force behind every decision I make, including my disputes with Bruce over his relentless pursuit of justice as Batman. His obsession with patrolling Gotham has strained our relationship, but more importantly, it has impacted our boys. They witness our conflicts, absorbing the tension and reflecting on their individual bonds with their father. Bruce has his flaws; he can be overly strict and sometimes distant. Yet, when he's present, he's an inspiring figure—empowering, affectionate, and constantly pushing them toward greatness. He may not be perfect, but he's constantly evolving, striving to be a better father.
Our home, a nexus of love, conflict, and unspoken fears, bears witness to the struggles and triumphs of a family not quite like any other. For all his strength and resolve, Bruce grapples with the dualities of his existence—between the man and the mask, the father and the vigilante. His physical and emotional absences leave a void that I strive to fill, weaving the fragile threads of family unity with each day that passes.
In their resilience, the boys adapt and grow, each carving their own path under the weight of the Wayne legacy. Their struggles and triumphs are a daily reminder of the complexities of our lives—a life built on the foundations of sacrifice, secrets, and an unwavering commitment to each other.
In the quiet moments, when the chaos of our lives settles into a rare peace, I reflect on the journey that has brought me here. From the confines of the League's domain to the expansive heart of the Wayne family, my life has been a testament to fate's unpredictable, winding paths.
Motherhood, with all its challenges and joys, has been my redemption, my salvation from a past marred by darkness. It has taught me about the power of love, the strength of family, and the endless possibilities of embracing one's true self. Standing at the precipice of this life I have built, I am grateful for the unexpected gift of motherhood and the five remarkable boys who call me Mom.
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Third Person P.O.V.
The Wayne Manor kitchen was a flurry of activity, its usual solemnity replaced by the chaotic energy of the Wayne sons preparing for the day's event. Amidst the sizzle of breakfast on the stove, Scarlett found herself not only as the orchestrator of the morning meal but also as the mediator of an unfolding debate among her boys.
"I don't see why I have to wear a suit. It's not like the orphans are going to care what I'm wearing," Jason grumbled, tugging at the collar of his shirt with a scowl that seemed permanently etched on his face whenever formal attire was mentioned.
"It's about showing respect, Jason. We represent the Wayne family; we should look the part," Dick interjected, ever the voice of reason, his own suit fitting him like a second skin—a testament to his comfort in their world of galas and public appearances.
"Yeah, but why can't we show respect in jeans and a tee? At least we'd be comfortable," Tim chimed in, pushing his glasses up his nose as he eyed the suit laid out for him with undisguised disdain.
Duke, the newest addition to the brood, seemed less bothered by the dress code, though he couldn't resist joining in the banter. A little color wouldn't hurt. These suits make us look like we're attending a funeral, not celebrating an opening."
Damian, the youngest and often the most vocal about his dislikes, was surprisingly quiet, his usual complaints about 'draconian dress codes' absent as he meticulously adjusted his tie—a more miniature replica of the one Bruce often wore. It was a rare moment of conformity from the boy, who was usually anything but.
Scarlett, flipping pancakes with one hand and managing to look entirely at ease amidst the morning chaos, couldn't help but smile at her son's antics. "Gentlemen, you all look handsome, and wearing a suit won't kill you. It's one afternoon, and then you can come home and change into whatever you'd like."
"But Mom, it's not just the suits. It's the ties, the shoes—it's like being strangled by your own clothes," Jason argued, his dramatics earning a chuckle from his brothers.
"Jason's right," Damian finally spoke up, his voice betraying a hint of solidarity with his brother. "It's archaic, and it's uncomfortable. Father insists on these traditions without considering practicality."
Scarlett turned, offering a plate of pancakes to her sons as a peace offering. "Bruce wants this day to be special for the orphanage's family and children. Wearing a suit is a small part to play in making today memorable. And Damian, your father considers many things, including how the Wayne family presents itself. It's part of our responsibility."
The boys exchanged looks, their arguments deflating under the weight of their mother's logic and the allure of breakfast. As they gathered around the table, their banter continued, lighter now, interspersed with plans for the day and the roles they each would play at the reopening.
Scarlett watched them, her heart full. These moments were what she cherished most—her family united not just by blood or name but by the shared experiences that bound them closer with each passing day. She knew the importance of today's event extended beyond the orphanage; it was a testament to their resilience, their unity, and the legacy they were building, one day, one suit at a time.
As breakfast concluded and they prepared to leave, Scarlett felt a surge of pride looking at her sons. Despite their grumbling, they were ready, each embodying the strength and grace of the Wayne legacy. Today was more than an event; it was a reaffirmation of their commitment to Gotham, each other, and the ideals Bruce and Scarlett worked so hard to instill in them.
As the Wayne family convoy wound its way towards the heart of Gotham, the tension that had bubbled over breakfast seemed to dissipate, replaced by a shared sense of purpose. The sleek black cars blended seamlessly with the city's rhythm, a silent testament to the Wayne legacy that extended far beyond the corporate skyscrapers and into the very fabric of Gotham's community.
Inside the lead car, Scarlett found herself sandwiched between Bruce and Alfred, the latter having taken on the role of driver for the day. The boys, divided between the vehicles, continued their debate over the necessity of formal wear, their voices a distant murmur over the car's communication system.
Bruce, catching Scarlett's eye, offered a small, appreciative smile. "They'll understand one day," he said, his voice a blend of resignation and hope. "The importance of today… it's more than just an appearance. It's about setting an example, showing Gotham that the Wayne family stands with them."
Scarlett nodded, her hand finding Bruce's. "They will. They're more like you than they'd care to admit. Strong, determined, and with a heart for Gotham's people. Today will be a good day."
Their arrival at the orphanage was met with fanfare, with the community turning out in force to celebrate the reopening. The Wayne family, stepping out of their cars, were immediately swarmed by reporters, city officials, and excited children, all eager to glimpse Gotham's most prominent family.
Despite their earlier complaints, the boys moved with a grace and poise that belied their years. Dick took the lead, his natural charisma making him an easy favorite among the attendees. With his characteristic scowl softened for the day, Jason was surrounded by a group of older kids, his tales of motorcycle escapades drawing awed whispers. Ever the strategist, Tim conversed with city planners and philanthropists, discussing future projects and investments. Duke became an instant hit with the younger children with his infectious smile, leading games, and laughter. Maintaining a stoic facade, Damian nonetheless found himself drawn to a quiet corner where a few shy orphans observed the festivities from a distance.
Scarlett felt pride as she watched her family mingle and engage with the community. Today was a reminder of their collective strength, their ability to transcend the challenges and scrutiny that often accompanied their public lives. It reaffirmed their commitment to making Gotham a better place, one child, one family at a time.
The jubilation of the day, palpable in the air filled with laughter and celebratory voices, was abruptly shattered. Moments before the chaos, Bruce stood at the podium, the crowd hushed in anticipation of his speech. The Wayne family stood to the side, representing unity and support.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us on this momentous day," Bruce began, his voice carrying over the assembled crowd. "Today is not just about reopening the doors of the orphanage; it's about reopening our hearts and extending our hands to those in need."
He paused, glancing towards Scarlett and their sons with a tender smile. "My family stands with me today as witnesses and pillars of our commitment towards this cause. Each of them, in their own way, contributes to the mission we've embarked on — to ensure that no child in Gotham feels abandoned."
Bruce's gaze swept over the crowd, his presence commanding yet warm. "This orphanage is more than a building; it's a beacon of hope, a promise of a better tomorrow. We dedicate ourselves to this promise, not just with words but with action. With support, care, and love, we can change lives."
As he spoke of future initiatives and the importance of community involvement, the atmosphere was charged with a sense of purpose and optimism. The Wayne family, listening intently, couldn't help but feel proud of their legacy, a legacy beyond the capes and the headlines, grounded in real, tangible change.
"And so," Bruce concluded, "we look forward to a future where every child knows they have a place to call home, a family to belong to, and a community that cares. Together, we can make Gotham a beacon of hope for all."
Applause erupted, echoing off the walls of the newly renovated building, symbolizing the new beginnings Bruce had articulated so passionately. The Wayne family joined in the applause, their hearts full, unaware of the looming shadow about to descend upon their moment of triumph.
When it came, the explosion was sudden and deafening, a brutal punctuation to Bruce's message of hope. Her instincts overriding her shock, Scarlett reacted with a speed born of necessity. Her powers, long kept hidden, flared to life, weaving a protective cocoon around her sons as debris and chaos reigned around them. The force of the blast sent her tumbling, darkness claiming her as she fought to stay conscious.
Awakening in the infirmary wing, the sterile white of the room starkly contrasting with the vivid nightmare of the explosion, Scarlett's first thought was of her family. Alfred's presence, a steady constant, brought a measure of comfort, but his news did little to ease the dread coiling in her stomach.
"The boys are safe, thanks to you," he reassured, though the worry in his eyes spoke volumes. "But, Miss Scarlett, the symbols... they've spread."
As consciousness slowly crept back to Scarlett, her first coherent thought was a piercing fear for her sons. Panic clawed at her chest, her breaths coming in short, rapid gasps as she attempted to rise, only to be met with the firm, steadying hands of Alfred.
"Where are they? Are they safe?" The urgency in her voice was palpable, her eyes wild with maternal fear. With his ever-calm demeanor, Alfred reassured her, "They're safe, Miss Scarlett. I personally saw to their safety. They're with Master Bruce."
Her mind, however, couldn't find peace until she saw them with her own eyes. Then, the memories began to flood, memories of how Alfred first discovered her secret.
It was a late evening, months ago, when Alfred had walked in on her tending to a wound on her shoulder — a wound that should have been fatal yet was healing at an unnatural pace, the skin around it glowing faintly with intricate symbols. She remembered the shock on Alfred's face, the way he froze, a tray of tea in his hands, now forgotten.
"Miss Scarlett, what on earth...?" he'd begun, his voice a mix of concern and disbelief.
She had no choice then but to confide in him, to reveal the origins of her powers and her past with Ra's al Ghul. "Alfred, what you see... it's a part of me I've hoped to keep hidden. These symbols are not just scars but a map to a barely understood power. A power Ra's al Ghul sought to control."
The conversation that followed was long and fraught with revelations. Scarlett explained her fear of Bruce's reaction, knowing his distrust of anything related to magic or the supernatural. Alfred, for his part, listened with a growing sense of foreboding, understanding the weight of the secret Scarlett bore.
The fear for her sons momentarily subsided in the infirmary, replaced by a new wave of panic. "Bruce... is he okay? He wasn't near the explosion, was he?" Her voice cracked with the question, the thought of Bruce injured — or worse — reigniting the terror within her.
"Master Bruce is unharmed," Alfred assured her, but the comfort his words were meant to provide was overshadowed by Scarlett's growing dread over the spreading symbols. "But we must keep him from seeing these symbols, Alfred. He cannot know of this magic within me."
The decision to keep Bruce in the dark had been mutual between Scarlett and Alfred, but the secrecy now felt like a chasm widening between her and her husband. Alfred's worry was evident, knowing the strain such secrets could inflict on a family already navigating the complexities of their dual lives.
Bruce's confusion turned to anger when he was barred from entering the infirmary, Alfred standing firm at the door. "Why can't I see her? What are you hiding from me?" His voice, usually calm and commanding, was now laced with betrayal and concern.
The situation escalated quickly, with Bruce's demands to see Scarlett met with Alfred's unwavering refusal, guided by his promise to protect her secret. The tension reached a boiling point, the air charged with unspoken accusations and the weight of untold truths.
Scarlett could hear the muffled exchange from her bed, her heart aching with each of Bruce's angered pleas. The fear of losing Bruce, of fracturing their family with her secrets, was a specter looming more significant than any physical threat she had faced. In that moment, she realized the actual cost of her powers — not the danger they posed to her, but the potential they had to unravel the very fabric of her family.
As Alfred finally returned to her side, their heavy silence spoke volumes. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty and the inevitable confrontation with Bruce. But for now, Scarlett focused on regaining her strength, preparing for difficult conversations, and bracing for the impact of her secrets on her family's future.
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