Damian Wayne

It had been two months since Alfred Pennyworth—Wayne Manor’s loyal butler and trusted friend—had passed away. Once a pristine and radiant estate, Wayne Manor was now buried in darkness and grief.

The entire Bat-Family mourned the loss of their beloved companion. Dick Grayson, the eldest and Bruce Wayne’s adopted son, was deeply shaken. He knew better than anyone how much Alfred had contributed to his upbringing. Yet, being a mature man, Dick managed to grieve and, eventually, to let go.

Then there was Damian Wayne—Bruce’s biological son, raised by the League of Assassins and sent to his father’s care by his mother, Talia al Ghul, to learn from Bruce. Initially, Damian’s arrogance and sense of superiority led him to see his family as rivals—especially Dick, whom he viewed as competition.

He had underestimated Alfred as well. At first, he saw the elderly butler as nothing more than a servant, someone beneath his notice. But time changed him. Living under Bruce’s guidance, surrounded by men of moral integrity, Damian gradually softened. Alfred played a significant role in this transformation, offering quiet wisdom and unwavering kindness.

Now Alfred was gone—murdered by the ruthless Bane. The man Damian had once dismissed, the one who had played a crucial part in his growth, was dead.

At first, Damian did not shed a single tear. His aloof, emotionless demeanor infuriated Dick, who couldn’t understand his brother’s apparent coldness. Yet in the solitude of night, Damian would cry—ugly, unrestrained tears. He buried his grief beneath rigorous training, but no amount of discipline could erase the hollow ache.

Wayne Manor grew colder, a silent testament to its loss. Bruce, struggling to maintain order within the vast, empty halls, finally made a decision—he hired a new maid.

Damian’s reaction was immediate and hostile. His face twisted into a scowl the first time he saw her. To him, she was a crude replacement for Alfred, a sign that they were trying to move on. The very idea disgusted him.

He didn’t bother learning her name, addressing her only as "maid." He ignored her shy glances, refused to let her take his coat when he returned from Gotham Academy, and found any excuse to berate her.

"This tea is horrendous." "Wear something appropriate. This isn’t a nightclub." "This meal should be considered a crime against humanity."

Each sharp remark was another attempt to shield his own pain.

At night, Damian unleashed his grief on Gotham’s criminals. His brutal tactics and bloody knuckles did not go unnoticed by his family. Dick grew concerned about his younger brother’s reckless behavior, even as he tried to assure the new maid that Damian was simply struggling.

One quiet afternoon, as she was dusting the manor and reached for the handle of Alfred’s old room, Damian’s patience snapped. He marched over, gripping her wrist in a vice-like hold. "Don’t you dare taint his room with your filth. Do you hear me?" His voice was low, laced with anger.

"My father may be the one who hired you, but you work for this manor—which includes me. Now.." he took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, putting on a stern demanding expression and wiping his unshed tears "bring me some tea, ill be at my study" and with that he stormed off