Princess of Themyscira: Part 5
AN: I’m just going to put this right here. . . .try not to hate me too much . . .
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
Often, your days on Themyscira were filled with training; both mental and physical. You could often be found running with your sisters, or practicing with your bow. When you were resting, reading, you could be found up in a tree; letting the breeze dance across your skin.
In the three years since you’d come to Themyscira, you’d grown out of your awkwardness and into an Amazon Princess. You were strong, and you could fight. More often than not you were praised for your grace. Which is why, when you fall out of a tree while reading, and pop your arm out of its’ socket you’re more than a little embarrassed.
Artemis teases you about it for days. Even worse, you’re forbidden from any physical combat. Instead you spend time playing strategy games with Io. Still, the sound of swords clashing calls your name. Io reads you like a book. With a smile, she begins packing up the game, before you walk to the stadium together.
The rest of your friends are already there, you sit in the center of the group and listen to the conversation as you watch the fight. They only gain your full attention when they start talking about you, “She’s only been down for a few days and she’s already itching to get back in the ring.”
You smirk at Artemis, “Enjoy your break while you can, I’ll be kicking your butt again soon enough.”
Your sister smirks back, “The little princess has gotten cocky.”
“I learned from the best.”
There’s laughter, before a voice cuts through, “I would agree.”
Your sister's bow their heads as your grandmother approaches. Io makes room for her to sit next to you, and she takes your hand in hers, “You are your mother's daughter, my little moon and stars.”
You smile, “And my grandmother’s granddaughter.”
She laughs, “Also very true.” She pauses, “I see the longing in your eyes, your desire to be on that field, so I am proud of you for listening to the physician’s orders of rest.”
You smile, “I doubt I could take anyone with a bum shoulder any way.”
Calyce smiles, “She’s too modest our queen. She has very quickly become one of the best.”
Your group sits in silence for several minutes before the sound of a horn hits your ears. As a group, your heads turn towards the beach. You see anger in your grandmother’s eyes as she orders you, “Return to the palace.”
Before you can ask what’s going on, they’re running. You watch as they grab their weapons and race towards the shores of the island, your grandmother leading the charge. You watch them go without a word, knowing better than to question her when she uses that tone.
You slowly make your way back to the palace, hoping for some news or some idea of what’s going on. Instead, the palace guards find you and escort you to your room. You scowl as you close the door, and race to the window.
You do your best to see something over the trees, when you feel someone’s breath hit the back of your neck. Spinning you throw a punch with your bad arm and immediately regret it. You wince as you meet sparkling eyes.
Your own go wide, and your mouth opens and closes several times, before his name comes out of your mouth, “Bart?”
He smiles and says, “Hey there Pretty Bird.”
You smile as you throw your arms around him in a hug. His arms wrap around you, before he picks you up off the ground and swings you around. You can’t help but smile.
Pulling back, you ask, “What are you doing here? My family, are they here too? What happened with the war?”
He pulls you in for another hug, “Let me enjoy the moment for a second Pretty Bird. It’s been three years.”
You smile and hug him again, before pulling him over to the bed. You watch as Bart’s eyes dart around the room, “It’s a lot different from your room at Wayne Manor. Remember that time your mom caught us making out on your bed?”
You grin at the memory. Bart had been your first boyfriend, but before that he had been your best friend. For some reason the two of you had always clicked.
“This is a different place, and I doubt my sisters will be any happier to see you than my mother was.”
He grins, “You sound like your mom.”
You shrug and sit on the bed, “It’s a way of life around here.”
The two of you sit in silence for several minutes before you ask again, “What happened to my family, Bart?”
He’s silent, but he continues to hold your hand, “It’s funny, I keep thinking that if I let go of you, you’re going to disappear. Like you’re not really here. I missed you Pretty Bird.”
You squeeze his hand, “I missed you too Bart, but I need to know.”
He sighs, “Let me start by saying that the war is over, and we won . . . at a price. We’ve lost most of the league, and half of the team . . . including your mother.” You don’t realize that tears are streaming from your eyes until Bart reaches up and wipes them away. “The first major attack took out most of the League. Your mom led the charge, and it was a long and dirty fight. Lots of blood, and just horrible. I still have nightmares about it. We lost your mom, my grandpa, several lanterns, Green Arrow, and a lot more. But it provided the turning point we needed.”
Bart’s grip on your hand tightens and he says, “The next major strike bought our victory, but it cost us even more. We lost Artemis, Conner, and L’agann.”
You swallow before asking, “What about my brothers.”
He smiles, “They’re alive, but at a cost.” You nod and he continues, “Dick is alive, but he’s not himself. He’s serious all the time and he rarely leaves the cave. Tim is paralyzed from the waist down thanks to a shrapnel attack. Jason is okay, blind in one eye, but he’s still Jason. No one’s seen Damian since the whole thing ended though.”
Your voice is husky, “When was that?”
“A year and a half ago. We’ve been swamped with cleanup and rebuilding. No one knew how to find you, until your parent’s lawyer contacted Alfred. You mom left behind instructions, and a will among other things.”
You nod several times, trying to absorb the information, Bart places a hand on your shoulder, gaining your attention, “She left some stuff to you. Important stuff.”
Slowly you ask, “What important stuff?”
He shrugs, “Not sure, Alfred has it.”
“On the beach with what remains of the team and league.”
You groan, before pulling him to his feet, “Let’s go.” He knows better than to argue, as he picks you up and carries you to the beach. It feels like old times as you watch your surrounding zoom by. It really reminds you of old times when Bart trips on the sand and sends you flying.
You land with a crash, hitting your bad arm as you go. You grind your teeth to keep from screaming, as you push yourself to your feet. You’re very aware of just how quiet things are, as you stand and turn to face the two major factions of your life.
Your eyes scan both crowds, before they land on someone you never thought you’d see again. He’s standing near the shoreline, his dress shoes scuffed with sand, and looking far too out of place in his suit.
Still you can’t help but smile as you race for him. You can feel your sisters’ eyes on you as you throw your arms around the man you think of as a grandfather. His arms return the hug immediately. “Oh Ms Y/N it is so good to see you.”
You take in his scent of mint and cigars and smile, “I missed you so much Alfred.”
The clearing of a throat has you turning to stare at Jason. He’s dressed in his red hood gear, minus the helmet. He looks older, and the white of his blind eye is a clear indicator to what the war had done. Then he smiles and years seem to melt away as you throw yourself into his arms.
He squeezes you tight before lifting you up and swinging you around, “I missed you something fierce squirt.”
“I missed you too Jaybird.”
He smiles, and let’s go before turning you to face someone new, and says, “He missed you too.”
You stand in shock for several minutes. You’d never seen anyone other than your father in the suit, and Dick . . .well Dick looks so much like him in that moment that it hurts. He doesn’t open his arms to you, and that’s your first sign that something is wrong.
Slowly, you make your way to him, before stopping right in front of him. You raise your hands to either side of the cowl, and he grips your wrists to stop you. Softly you say, “You were never meant to be him Dick. You don’t belong in the dark, you belong in a spotlight. You don’t have to be him.”
Slowly, his fingers loosen, and you peel back the cowl. His face is the same, but his hair is a bit shaggy. You brush it out of his face and stare into his eyes. You see it there. He’s so tired of losing people, and in so much pain that it nearly overwhelms you. You pull him in for a hug, and slowly he reciprocates. His forehead leans against your shoulder and you feel the tears drip onto your skin.
When he starts crying, you do too, because both your lives are different. You’ve both lost some of the people dearest to you. Your world has changed, and as much as you may wish, there’s no way to change things back.
