Archive of Our Own

The Comoros were beautiful in a quiet, forgotten way.

Tiny islands scattered across the Indian Ocean like secrets the world no longer cared to remember. Warm rain. Salt air. Narrow roads lined with palms bending gently beneath coastal winds. The villa Talia rented sat far from the capital, hidden near dark volcanic cliffs where the sea stretched endlessly beneath a silver horizon.

Nobody knew her here.

That was exactly why she chose it.

Far from Gotham.

Far from Nanda Parbat.

Far from Bruce Wayne.

Damian slept against her chest as evening rain drifted softly through the open balcony doors. The room smelled faintly of milk, sea salt, and clean linen. Talia sat barefoot in a wooden chair beside the window, wrapped in a loose robe while her son breathed quietly in her arms.

He was barely three weeks old.

Tiny.

Warm.

Perfect.

Talia lowered her gaze to him with helpless devotion.

Damian had Bruce's hair.

Not merely dark, but truly black. Thick straight strands already visible against the soft blanket wrapped around him. His brows were expressive even in sleep, occasionally furrowing with faint irritation exactly like his father's. The shape of his mouth belonged to Bruce too, stubborn and proud even as an infant.

But his eyes were hers.

Green.

Bright green that would someday become sharp and intelligent and dangerous if she failed him.

Talia brushed gentle fingers over his cheek, her heart aching so badly it almost felt unbearable.

"My beautiful boy," she whispered softly in Arabic.

Damian shifted slightly at the sound of her voice, tiny fingers curling against her robe.

Talia smiled faintly.

Then the smile disappeared just as quickly.

Because for one terrible moment, she imagined Bruce sitting across from her right now.

She imagined his large hands awkwardly holding Damian despite all his confidence. Imagined the rare softness that only appeared on Bruce's face when he loved something too much. Imagined him staring silently at their son with that overwhelming intensity that made Talia feel seen in ways both comforting and frightening.

Bruce would have loved Damian completely.

That was precisely why she could never tell him the truth.

Talia closed her eyes briefly.

The memory still haunted her.

Bruce standing motionless after she told him she lost the baby.

The silence.

The grief he tried so desperately to hide from her because even then he still wanted to protect her from more pain.

He had touched her face gently before leaving. His hand warm against her skin.

"I'm sorry," he told her quietly.

Not anger.

Not blame.

Only sorrow.

Talia thought the guilt might kill her.

But guilt was survivable.

Bruce dying was not.

That was the truth she carried alone.

If Bruce knew Damian existed, he would never abandon them.

Never.

Bruce Wayne loved with terrifying sincerity beneath all his walls and coldness. Once his heart attached itself to someone, he would destroy himself protecting them. Talia knew this better than anyone.

And Ra's al Ghul would notice.

Her father noticed everything eventually.

Bruce would fight the League for them. He would sacrifice his life if it meant keeping Talia and Damian safe. There was no limit to the damage Bruce would willingly endure for the people he loved.

That devotion frightened Talia more than hatred ever could.

Because Ra's would exploit it.

Bruce would die trying to protect their son.

Talia knew it with absolute certainty.

Perhaps not immediately. Perhaps years later. But eventually Bruce Wayne would stand between Damian and the League of Assassins, and Bruce would bleed for it until there was nothing left.

Talia would rather lose his love than witness his death.

So she lied.

She let Bruce believe their child was gone.

She let him return to Gotham grieving something that had never truly died.

And then she disappeared before she could lose the courage to do it.

Damian made a soft sound in his sleep, pulling Talia back to the present. She looked down immediately, instinctively protective.

"There you are," she murmured.

His tiny face relaxed once she adjusted him closer against her chest.

So small.

Ra's would already call him heir.

Successor.

Future.

Talia looked at her son and saw none of those things.

Only a baby.

A little boy who deserved bedtime stories instead of combat training. Warm sunlight instead of bloodstained stone halls. Laughter instead of destiny.

Perhaps she was foolish for wanting ordinary happiness for a child born from Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul.

But she wanted it anyway.

Desperately.

The ocean roared below the cliffs as rain continued falling outside. Comoros felt untouched by the rest of the world tonight. Hidden safely beneath clouds and darkness.

Talia prayed it would stay that way.

She bent her head and kissed Damian's forehead gently.

"I will protect you," she whispered fiercely.

From Ra's.

From the League.

From the legacy waiting hungrily for him.

And perhaps most cruelly of all, from Bruce Wayne himself.

Not because Bruce would ever hurt him.

Never that.

But because Bruce would love Damian so completely he would burn the entire world down to keep him safe.

And one day, that love would get him killed.

Talia could not survive watching that happen.

So instead she sat alone on a distant island in the middle of the Indian Ocean, holding the child Bruce believed dead while rain sang softly through the night.

And despite the unbearable ache in her chest, despite missing Bruce so badly it sometimes left her breathless, Talia held Damian tighter and chose silence once again.