Perfection is not Perfect
Sweat beaded around her forehead from the effort, occasionally dripping down to fall into her eyes. But Talia welcomed the stinging sensation the salt afforded, it meant she had enough water to shed for her body to continue.
With a smirk she released the bolas in her hand with a sharp flick, allowing it to wrap around her target quickly. Pulling back on the weapon it fell limp, causing her to growl out in frustration at yet another failed lasso attempt.
The bolas was a unique weapon, not often used because of its lack of lethality. An ineffective choice for those who only carried a single weapon and called themselves assassins. Which meant it had not been covered in instruction within the League of Assassins, so Talia would have to perfect the use of the weapon alone, just as her daughter had as a child.
Needless to say, the process was slow going. Having been raised with swords, the movements were foreign, but she had to get it right, it had to be perfect. Her children’s lives depended upon it.
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she tried to lasso her bolas around the dummy again. A sharp pull and the dummy slid back a few feet in her direction. Luckily, Miraculous magic made the process much easier, ensuring for the most part her throw always caught if her aim was at least true and the enhanced strength ensured what she caught could be pulled, if desired, a good distance back from even her, something she could not accomplish without the suit. But she wanted the action to be from muscle memory and not magic.
While her feelings towards her father were no longer described as complicated, in short she despised him, she still had it engrained that one must be reliant on themselves, not others and definitely not magic. Even if it was quite the hypocrisy to be drilled into her by him.
Picking up the 200-pound dummy and positioning it to do once more, she turned to find Alfred standing in the doorway of the gym. In his hand a tray holding a single bottle of water.
Over the period of time she’d been in the manor, she’d watched both Bruce and the children often try to ignore such obvious ploys, only to waste time before he was successful in whatever mission he’d set. Therefore, she saw no reason to fight him and preferred to get to the point so she could continue with her training.
Walking over she took the offered water, thanking him before she began to drink. Of course, when she’d taken it she’d not intended to down the contents, but as the cool liquid slid down her throat she’d suddenly realized how parched she’d allowed herself to become. Finishing the contents too quickly, she returned the vessel to the tray, expecting him to leave directly after. Instead, he stayed, not looking at her expectantly, but the feeling was there, nevertheless.
Finally, she understood.
Growing up she’d never had someone to guide her, not in the sense of becoming a better person like most parents did. The only guidance she ever received was to become a better weapon, pawn. In her early years, Ra’s only saw her as a nuisance, a child allowed in his presence only during ceremonies to show the order’s strength and promises for the future. Only allowing her to finally stand as his right hand when he felt she could be used by him and her loyalty was unquestionable. Even then Ra’s never talked to her, never asked for an honest opinion to train her to think on her own, only ever asking how well she carried out his latest use for her,
Yu Yan came far too late in her life to guide her, but at least she became a sounding board when she realized the loyalty the nanny had for her daughter. The affection wasn’t quite there, in truth it was respect, but it was the closest Talia felt to having a mother as she would ever get.
To the Wayne family one might assume a similar relation, but it wasn’t the case, Alfred was everything. Guider, sounding board, and long stick to the back of the head when stupidity seemed to reign over common sense. A father, grandfather in every sense, even if he tried to have a sense of propriety by simply referring to himself as the butler.
Apparently for Talia, today he was going to be the stick.
Moving to grab a towel, she blotted at her forehead to not give offense, though her words would not appear to hold such reservations. “Alfred, I am not my father. You will not be killed if you say something I do not like… And I am not Bruce. I will listen if I am wrong. I’ve been told the same far too many times in my life to take offense and if I failed to listen my father would have been given a reason to have me killed. So, if you have something to say, please just say it.”
“Wanting to protect your children is never wrong Madame Talia...”
Finding the statement vague, Talia stepped away from Alfred to take a seat on one of the nearby chairs. Knowing his words were but an introduction to the lecture he wanted to give she tapped the seat next to her for Alfred to sit, watching as he hesitated at the gesture.
“If we are to have an honest conversation, we must be as relaxed as one can be, and hold ourselves as equals to say the truth without the barriers of rank politics.”
“Perhaps then we should retire to the kitchen. As you say we must be relaxed, and to accomplish that I believe tea and an inability to be interrupted is required. With Miss Marinette out with Master Jon and Master Adrien we have no reason to fear anyone else coming into the kitchens. They are banned after all.”
Talia could not help but smile at the true patriarch of the Wayne family, regarding how he so easily ruled with an iron fist, though never having to truly use it. Bruce didn’t realize how lucky he was, his life had many downs, but he had amazing influences to guide him through the darkness. If only Yu Yan or even Alfred had been present earlier in hers perhaps she would have broken free of her father’s binds much sooner, before her children were exposed to the same.
Using her head she beckoned Alfred to lead the way, taking a moment to straighten herself before following.
So far Talia had yet to find a cause to bring her to the kitchen. It was impressive, clearly large enough to cook for the social events the manor was required to hold a few times a year, but there was a sectioned off part which was personalized to Alfred’s taste for daily cooking. At the center of his domain was an old fireplace where two chairs and a table could be found.
With his head start, or more likely predicting their eventual arrival, Alfred managed to whip up two teas and a few cookies Marinette had made earlier. On the hearth of the fireplace sat a small plate of raw meat, which Roarr immediately knew to be hers and abandoned Talia without a word to devour. The two seats had pillows which were embroidered, making it very apparent as to why there were two chairs instead of one, the more faded fabric of one proving the addition being recent.
Talia sat on the new chair as she waited for Alfred to pour the tea and take his own seat. Mentally she prepared herself for the possible topics he would want to discuss.
Placing the tea pot down, he put a lump of sugar into his tea before he began. “For years that gym has been where the family loves to go and slay their dragons. Honing their crafts, believing that is the only way to prevent their dragons from slaying them.”
“But...” Talia pressed.
“The results do not meet the efforts.”
Struck by the words Talia’s teacup stopped halfway to her lips before she returned it to its saucer. Feeling as if she’d been improving her shortcomings with her bolas it was a strike against her pride to hear an outside observer had not drawn the same conclusion.
Alfred’s smile took an edge which spoke of a man knowing much, too much. “You must know Talia, your form with the bolas has grown beyond reproach, any short coming you may have will not be found in the gym but in use during your nightly activities. But like the rest, your problem lies in your working towards slaying the wrong dragon.”
Taking a sip of her tea she tried to understand. The words made sense, but his meaning wasn’t as clear. “I want to say I grasp what you are trying to say, perhaps I should. But I will not lie, despite doing so acknowledges a fault.”
Taking a sip from his tea, Alfred delayed giving an immediate response. Leaning back in his chair, his eyes displayed a tenderness she could not believe he was sharing with her.
“Why did you have Marinette? It was not to subject her to a life within the League of Assassins. I may not know you as well as the others in the manor, but I know enough to see that does not match with who you are.”
Leaning back in her own chair, Talia paused. Not because she didn’t know, but because she’d never been allowed so much time and words to explain.
“Damian was born to be the heir, never my son. That title was only given to explain how he was the heir, for appearances, few know he was actually created in a lab from our DNA and not from my body. When Bruce left, I believe my father came to believe he had to groom—for lack of a better term—an heir, for him to be what Ra’s truly desired. I was only allowed to have a part in his life as my father would not care for the day to day, only ensuring he was trained to be used as he saw fit later.”
Alfred took a sip of his tea, never breaking eye contact, giving her the attention to know her words were important, had meaning to him.
“But I wanted a child, always have. I felt this love I wanted to give that I’d never received. When we were together, Bruce and I pictured them, it is scary how close they are to the images in our heads, but then Bruce was no longer there. Still, I never wanted anyone but him to be the father of my children. So, when my father told me to sire an heir that was Bruce’s, even if artificially, I defied him to create Marinette too.
I would never have been able to acknowledge she was mine. But I knew, and loved and protected her. Bringing her as close as I could without garnering suspicions. Trying to have as close to a mother-daughter relationship as one can have in such an environment. It was not perfect, but it was close considering the odds. I had two children, who I love, and I believe love me. Giving me purpose beyond maintaining my father’s status quo.”
“Yet at some point the illusion of it being enough shattered.” Alfred sagely stated.
“The day I realized my father was going to use Marinette just as much as Damian. The day he announced their engagement funny enough, the day he died. We were all pawns of his, for better or worse I had cursed them to that life. I had always known that to some conscious level, but that was the day I knew even she would eventually be torn from my side.”
Alfred took a sip of his tea. “So, what now?”
“Now? Now, I do everything in my power to make sure he never has a chance to use them as pawns in his games again.”
Alfred slowly took another sip of his tea, his eyes never losing sight of her, not even when he took a bite of his cookie and brushed the crumbs from his fingertips.
“As I said before, chasing the wrong dragon.” Talia’s eyes narrowed but she said nothing, “What you are doing in that gym does not fulfil the reasons behind why you defied your father, why you wanted them.”
“What?”
“Talia,” he placed his hand on hers as she realized she gripped the table at some point. The initial reaction she had was to withdraw it, but other than a small twitch she left it. “You may tell yourself you knew Damian was created to be the heir your father desired, but I have been privy to some details of his childhood to know within the confines of your room you did everything in your power to contradict it, to ensure he was more than that. In your room you made him know you loved him separately of the title Ra’s gave him, raised him to be strong enough to survive and never truly be a pawn to your father’s games, and spent time with them both as a family just without calling it such. You said yourself, your father never had time for you outside of your usefulness, yet Damian spoke of your room being a sanctuary and a constant where there were no expectations. That does not sound like him only being Ra’s heir.”
Alfred’s second hand came to rest on his first and he lightly squeezed her hand as he smiled gently. “It is an unfortunate life they have led to a degree, being born within the League with so much expectation on them as children. Yet, there is not a single person in this household who can’t claim overcoming some level of trauma which formed them into being the great people they are. But, I hate to think what would have happened had you not defied your father and had both. Paris may not be standing, and Bruce would not have begun the real process of being healed from his own childhood. But again, this is not the reason you had the children.
You had them because you wanted to be their mother. A part of that is protecting them, but that is but only one part. Especially as they have Bruce, Dick, Jason and Tim protecting them too. For that matter at any given moment without asking they have both Adrien and Jon. But what they really need is for you to be their mother, stop isolating yourself in the name of their protection.
Both need to find sanctuary in your chambers, sort of speak. Where there are no expectations aside from just being your daughter and your son. They may never have or desire a typical teenage bonding experience with you, but at the very least they want to slay your dragons beside you.
With what I fear we are about to face; I think it will be important to know how to lean on each other and ensure your bonds are unbreakable. And with how it might end it is also important to have no regrets, waste no time and love my whole family; while Dick and Tim may be older I believe they would also appreciate having some of what only you can give.”
Talia took a moment to process never leaving her eye contact with Alfred before taking his hand which held hers and covering it with her own. “Fine, no regrets, let the same apply for you. You know you are like a father to Bruce and therefore grandfather to the kids. As I have put up a shield and will acknowledge the need for it to be lowered, I suggest the same, because I too could use the love of a father.”