Chapter Text
Timothy has always been stuck home. His rare occasion of socialisation being balls or when he invites his small “gild” of friends to come over and wander in the wood. The fragile boy has now grown up into a smart young man even though still a bit too pale, a bit too thin, a bit too tired… The third Wayne son spends most of his time studying in the mansion’s library. He is currently holding a pile of books about medicine, strange diseases and war tactics and struggles to get to his usual table. When he finally manages to place the books on the fine wood he can’t help but feel a shiver down his spine.
“-I figured you were here, Indeed Tim had seen the stains, heard the pot of water, scented the fresh paint.
-Yet you were surprised”, answers Damian while wetting his paintbrush. The fourth son, a young boy yes, but a boy who was born of the union between the owner of this estate and the daughter of one of the most powerful lords on this continent. He is undeniably skilled. Too skilled for a boy his age. Who knows what he could become…
“-You need to sharpen your senses, Drake.
-It’s not that serious Dami.
-It is a matter of survival.
-My arm is still healing after this autumn’s incident and we are safe in this place. Avoiding murder isn’t my priority right now.
-It should be and you know it.
-Your brother is right Timothy; a deep voice interjects. We just received a missive from the Lord Luthor. He is organizing a ball to which are invited the oldest children of the nobility.
-May I ask in what way does it correlate with my surviving skills?
-Don’t pull the aristocratic language on me son. Dick is already married and Jason is… Jasoning. This makes you my oldest son and the one I will send to this event and you know that these are often filled with people whose ascension matters more to them than any moral.”
Timothy feels like he is missing something. This is only a ball, right? Being well behaved is an understandable requirement for such occasion but why must he be single? Dick is free lately. He carefully lifts his head looking in the eyes of his adoptive father.
“-Bruce. In what occasion does the Lord Luthor organize this ball?...
-The Lord Luthor decided that it is time for his son to find a partner. You must understand that the Lord worries for his legacy. He tries to hide it but it is known that he poisoned himself while running experiences.
-But Lord Luthor doesn’t have a son!
-That’s what I thought but after consulting some intels…” Bruce’s face wrinkles with embarrassment and guilt. His fleeing gaze is a silent statement. His intels are the gossiping women who always circle around him. A group he’d rather not talk about since Lady Selina’s outburst.
“…It seems like the Lord has a son visibly around your age. Nobody has seen him arrive. Nobody has ever seen Alexander intimate with a woman before. All we know is that the rumour runs that the boy has quickly developed rebellious tendencies and has a resemblance with a peasant named… Clark. Strange if you ask me. But we’ll never know the truth if we don’t even try.”
Bruce shoots an insistent look at Timothy. This is more than a ball. Timothy understands it. He also understands that his father keeps some information. He tensed while talking about the peasant and Timothy is probably not ready for the disaster about to be unleashed.
Damian straightens. “-Ahem… Father why don’t you tell the Lord; Timothy is too weak and send me instead?
-You are far too young for that Damian. And your older brother is perfectly capable of attending a few balls. He has participated to dozens of these.
-Balls…, mutters Tim. I thought there was only one ball.
-The balls will keep going until the Luthor heir finds a partner who suits him.
-Like in Once Upon a Broken Heart!” Shouts someone from the other side of the library.
Bruce shouts back;
“This is the middle-ages, Jason. Stephanie Garber isn’t born yet. He looks back at Timothy. You should start to fill your luggage. You’re leaving tomorrow.”