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Damian peeked curiously around the corner, his nose upturned and eyes frantic. There was no one around and that was his cue to wriggle onwards. He fumbled a little as he tried to coordinate his back legs that still refused to follow his commands before giving up and pulling his weight forward with his front legs.
His Father had been trying to help Damian figure out how exactly to be quadrupedal, but after so long being forced to only navigate on two feet, Damian’s hind legs simply lacked the strength or development to hold his weight. Father seemed displeased at the matter at hand, Damian caught the anger on his face every time Damian’s back legs simply wobbled and then collapsed below his body, having him let lose these pathetic little sounds his Mother would beat out of him should she hear them.
Damian didn’t like angering Father with his incompetence and whining but it simply hurt too much, was too difficult for Damian to get his hind legs to work in the way he wanted.
The League were Wym’s, his Mother and Grandfather were Lindwurm’s. They didn’t have hind legs, only two forelegs, and as soon as Damian had been born, a quadrupedal Dragon, well… He’d spent his life with his wings bound and his back legs restrained because he was the heir of the League, a Wym Cult, he was already a disgrace, he didn't need to shame them further by being so different.
When his Mother had left him here in Gotham though... He’d discovered he wasn’t abnormal. It turned out that he’d simply taken after his father a lot more. His Father, his Sire, a fierce, gigantic dragon. Damian was his exact replica, minus of course the fact his back legs refused to function and his wings were bony, fragile things that refused to hold his weight regardless of how much he flapped, but they had the same pitch black scales, the same stormy dark blue eyes, the same sharp fangs and curved white claws.
And Damian was tiny. He wasn’t as small as Timothy, but his form was comparable to that of a dog. He was around the size of a fully grown beagle and Father had informed him that at Damian’s age he should be more around the size of a cow or a horse. It was disheartening to know Damian wasn’t fulfilling his Fathers wishes.
Damian was silent as he snuck into the room, still slithering awkwardly with his back legs dragged behind him. The nest in the centre of the room was big. It had to be big, of course, to fit Richard’s ridiculously long form. Richard was everything Damian’s Mother would have loved. He was a fierce Quetzalcoatl, a dying species, valued highly in today's society. He was long, extremely long, with two feathery wings that could carry his body with ease.
Damian found him comforting in some weird way, because the distant Wym species reminded him of home...
His nest, to accommodate his impressive length, subsequently was massive. It was predominantly made of vegetation and Damian had seen the Quetzalcoatl change the contents every week or so once the plants and weeds started to emit a rotting smell. Damian thought it to be a lot of effort. But it was admirable.
The nest was deep too, so Richard could curl up into it without his snake-like body spilling over the edges. Damian wriggled closer and peered upwards. He couldn’t see over the top with his small size.
So nests could be made from plants… It seemed comfy enough, plenty of leaves and other relatively soft bits of plants. Damian might like that, especially if he added some nicer smelling plants, maybe mint or-
But then the matter of replacing most of it so often made Damian sneeze. He didn’t want to have to do that so often, to never really be able to get comfy, to constantly endure changes, never keeping any original part of the nest for long… It sounded scary to constantly face different scents, differences to his nest, the place he was meant to feel safest.
No. Damian didn’t want a nest like this.
While it suited Richard perfectly it wasn't for Damian. He huffed a little smoky exhale at the fruitless investigation and dragged himself out of the giant room, ignoring the little human bed in the corner as he went. That was another thing that baffled Damian about this new horde he'd been added to. They weren't afraid of their human forms, in fact most of the time at least one of them would be human.
Damian could hardly remember the last time he was human. In fact, he only did remember because when Talia had caught him, merely six years old, curiously gazing at himself in a mirror, all pink and fleshy and weak with legs too skinny to hold him up, she'd snapped. Damian had never seen her that mad before or since.
His scales ached in phantom pain at the memory. His Mother had forced him to shift back instantly and proceeded to painfully dislodge so many of his scales from his body with her blade. He was left raw and pink, bleeding in places as she pocketed his pitch black scales.
"If you want to be fleshy and defenceless that can be arranged." She'd told him as she left him so vulnerable and in pain.
The only positive was that like humans milk teeth or a snake's skin, Damian regrew his 'shed' scales. He would shed them again when he hit his growth spurt and after that he’d have his adult scales that should he ever lose, wouldn’t regrow…
Plus adult scales were substantially tougher, they wouldn’t be removed by a mere blade and that made him feel a little safer. Damian sniffed a little. He didn’t want to remember the burning pain of his scales being ripped away. Instead he hurried his quest while the coast was clear, dragging himself feebly into the next room opposite.
This one clearly belonged to Timothy. It was a rather... Effeminate room, Damian mused, though that did fit his image. The Nest in the centre of the room was tiny, barely even the size of a a typical dog bed. It was different from Richard's, vastly so. The entire thing was made of mushrooms, a variety of sizes and colours, so pretty and- Damian edged forwards, little whines escaping his jaw when he tried to get his back legs beneath him only to send sparking pains up his spine. He gave in and flopped them back down, his strong front legs holding him upwards.
The Nest was small, compact and neatly cared for though there was no order to the types of mushroom or the colours. It matches the rest of the room that had string after string of fairy lights hung up, beautiful wallpaper that looked like a forest and even the furniture, the lampshades, everything radiated a mushroom, enchanted theme that suited a Fae-Dragon so perfectly. Timothy clearly took a lot of pride in his nest space. Again, like Richard's room, there was a small humanoid-sized section though unlike Richard's room where his section looked tiny in comparison to the massive nest, Timothy’s human space dwarfed his tiny nest.
Damian frowned. He couldn't have a nest that small and if it was made of mushrooms he'd just end up eating it… and he couldn't have one like Richards because it would rot quickly. Was there no type of nest for Damian?
With a sad noise he turned away and stumbled out of the room. He huffed and laid down in the hallway with a tired grumble. His legs hurt so much, he wasn't meant to move around this much unattended. He let out a pitiful wail for someone. His Mother hated when he made noise but the Wayne Horde seemed to almost encourage it. They were all so expressive and noisy. Damian chirped for his Siblings, his Sire.
"Damian! Are you okay?" Timothy was at his side instantly, human hands cradling him in strong arms. Damian buried his head into Timothy's chest. He let out another low whine and hid himself against fleshy bits. Timothy held him so softly and carried him, whispering reassurances. Damian liked being carried. Mother never did that either, nothing weak or dependent on others was allowed. Damian liked it though, he liked that his new pack liked to hold him and care for him, it made him feel warm inside.
Maybe it was a weakness but it was nice…
Timothy carried him down to the cave, the large spanning mass below the Manor where Jason and Bruce’s Nests were. Jason’s was a pile of rocks beside the underground lake and the entrance to the cave. The rocks were rounded and piled in a way he wanted, patches of growing soft moss covered most of them. Damian gave it a look and frowned against Timothy’s chest. Rocks couldn’t be comfy could they? Or did the moss make it nice?
Timothy ignored Jason’s curious, questioning glance as the giant Wyvern stared at them from the darkened safety of his nest. Jason was too big, normal Wyverns weren’t on par with Dragons but Jason was and Damian always got the chills when he saw him. It was scary.
Finally they reached Bruce’s large part of the cave, a vast open space, trickling waterfall in one corner where there water seeped through the rocks and formed the lake that flowed through the caves. In the centre was Bruce’s massive Dragon form, curled up on piled upon piles of golden coins. Among the coins appeared to be other things, a flash of red and green, a glare of silver, some blue and a hint more red-
Damian couldn’t make out what the objects were, some appeared to be clothing perhaps while other was technology he wasn’t sure on the purpose of. Odd.
Bruce chuffed out a curious noise as Timothy carried Damian closer, head bowed in respect and hesitant. Bruce gave a nod, allowing Tim into his nest. Timothy smiled a little and brought Damian closer even as the curious Hatchling failed to hide another mewling cry. His legs hurt so much. He didn’t want to walk anymore today.
Bruce’s face frowned and his giant head dipped down to Damian. Another noise flowed from him, soft and pained.
“I found him lying in the hall outside mine and Dick’s Nests, I just got home. He was crying, so I brought him to you, Br- S-Sire.” Timothy fumbled and looked down, embarrassed.
Bruce rumbled because Timothy wouldn’t understand his words while he was human so talking was pointless. Timothy nodded though, he knew what Bruce meant and gently let go of Damian, carefully placing him at the edge of Bruce’s nest. Damian gave another pitiful cry.
“I.. did good, S-Sire?” Timothy asked hesitantly as Bruce’s white clawed paw shuffled Damian to between his large powerful forelegs. Bruce dipped his head and gave a higher rumble. Timothy beamed.
“Thank you.” Tim sniffled, gave another curt bow and turned to flee. Bruce gave a soft exhale because Timothy was still nervous around him even after a couple of years living with their pack, still so formal when entering Bruce’s nest, and still so painfully desperate to know he did right, he did good, he didn’t disappoint. Bruce's attention turned down to Damian once Timothy had fled, in the direction of Jason’s nest.
“Damian, my Little Starlight, whatever is the matter?” Bruce asked the form between his legs that sniffled and buried his face between his front paws.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry Sire. I- I’m pathetic. I can’t function properly. I’m sorry I can’t walk like you- I’m sorry I can’t fly and- and I- I can’t make a nest. I don’t- I don't want one like Richard’s, there’s so many plants and I- It would take so long to replace- and Timothy has- there’s so many pretty mushrooms- I’d just- I’d eat them and- and Jason’s looks so hard.” Damian spilled all the words so quickly, against his will. Mother would starve him for such complaints.
“And yours is so big- and- and- I want a nest- I want a place- I’m sorry Sire. I jus-just want a place to belong. I was- I was going to make my own but I don’t know how. Mother never showed me how to make one- I wasn’t allowed one at- at the League. I… I want one. Please Sire… I- I just- I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to demand things.” Damian sniffled further when Bruce remained silent. His pleas were cut short when Bruce snorted out a puff of fire at the closest wall, leaving scorch marks and the smell of smoke. He growled lowly and Damian flinched.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I- Please don’t- I’ll be good.” Damian cowered against one of Bruce’s clawed paws. Bruce dipped lowly.
“Little Star. I promise, I will never, ever hurt you. You’re mine, my Horde, my Hatchling. I will protect you as long as I live, as will your brothers.” Bruce rumbled reassuringly, knocking his snout ever so carefully against Damian, making sure not to knock his fragile wings nor be too strong against his weak lower body. “I love you, Starlight. You may have whatever you desire, you need not beg, only ask. If you want a nest, tomorrow me and your siblings will help you decide what you want to build it of, and where you'd like it. You don’t need to copy anyone else, simply pick what suits you best. All my children did so, they chose what they desired as should you. And, should you find yourself unable to choose straight away, you are always welcome in my nest, Damian. Always.” Bruce continued, letting out little purrs of reassurance that Damian melted at. His Father wanted him. He wasn't angry. He loved him?
“I- I can stay here?” Damian questioned, stumbling over his words as little hiccupping sobs wracked his tiny frame.
“Always, Little Star. You, your brothers and sister, you’re all welcome here anytime, should you feel sad or lonely or simply want to be close to me. I will never turn any of you away. You’re all my Horde. Mine.” Bruce growled possessively. Damian shivered and leaned more against Bruce who lowered himself onto his belly, large paws trapping Damian against his snout, dark eyes peering down at him.
“I’m here for you, Starlight. I promise. I’ll help you with anything.” Bruce gave a flash of fangs in mimic of a smile and Damian believed him. His Father would help him learn to walk properly, to fly, to build a nest- Damian didn’t feel scared about the future, surrounded by his Fathers enormous frame.
He was safe. He was home.
