WARNING: This fic contains a lot of dark stuff. Warnings are kind of spoilery, so if you want them, skip to the bottom.

There's a legend that says that if the ravens ever leave the Tower of London, the crown and the nation will fall. That seemed appropriate for this fic.

I've finally seen Justice League! I still have plans to do that League fic in this 'verse, but this demanded to be written first.

The passages and rooms hidden between the walls of the old fortress were suffused with a cold damp that no amount of flickering torches could cure. Jason had never paid much attention to it before.

Not until he kept catching Bruce trying to stifle coughs as they went over a map of the city together, trying to find a pattern to the most recent attacks.

"Still not over that winter chill, old man?" He kept his tone scornful to hide the seed of real worry that was slowly growing in his mind. They'd all assumed that the slow return of spring would herald the end of the last of Bruce's lingering illness.

"I'm fine."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Of course you are." He looked Bruce over critically. His eyes caught on things that he'd overlooked before. The deeper than usual shadows under his eyes. The tight lines of pain that were just visible around his mouth. The way the gray in his hair had morphed from a sprinkling of silver to a hoard of it.

He had to be pushing fifty by now. By the standards of the streets he once lived on, and, for that matter, the court he ruled now, Bruce was positively ancient.

"I heard Dick was bringing Mar'i into the fold as the new Robin," he said casually. "I'd imagine he'll want to stick pretty close to her, especially at first."

"Understandably."

"You ever think maybe it's time for you to step down? Let Dick be the Bat?"

Bruce finally looked up from the map. "My granddaughter is going out into the field," he said flatly. "I am not letting her go out without doing everything I can to protect her."

"See, I get that, but I feel like you're jumping over the key word of granddaughter. You're getting old, Bats."

Bruce's mouth was a grim line. He went back to studying the map.

Anger was starting to fizzle through him, but he pushed on. "Come on, B. If the city went to war tomorrow, nobody would blink an eye if you didn't go out on the field. What makes this so different?"

"I will not leave my children to finish the war I dragged them into until I have no other choice." Bruce's hand had a white knuckle group around the table. The words had come out in the Bat's growl.

"Nobody dragged me anywhere," Jason protested automatically. "I distinctly remember having a choice."

"You were children," Bruce repeated.

"Children die on the streets every day," Jason countered. "You gave us a chance." He shrugged. "And it's water under the bridge now. I'd bet anything the others agree with me. You can't tell me no one else has said anything."

The tightening of Bruce's shoulders was answer enough.

When he still didn't say anything, Jason sighed in an explosive huff. "Fine. Be that way." They still hadn't found a pattern, but at this point he didn't think they were going to. He turned to storm out.

He was almost to the passageway when Bruce called, "Jay?"

Bruce was the only one who called him that anymore, so he paused, just for a second.

"I'll be careful." It was a concession, coming from him.

"You'd better be, old man. Gotham needs the Bat."

They both knew that wasn't really what he meant.

"Then I'll be careful," Bruce repeated. "For Gotham."

The face carved into the sarcophagus was severe. Stern. The face of Prince Bruce of the House of Wayne, the one people were already calling 'the Great.'

Jason had always hated that expression.

He glared down at the grim face, fists clenched.

He'd had to watch the funeral procession as one of the masses crowding the street.

Some people would have brought flowers to the grave. Jason had been seriously considering bringing a severed head.

Wilting flowers were pointless. Vengeance meant something.

In the end, he'd compromised by showing up at the catacombs empty handed.

Which didn't mean that he hadn't still forcibly severed the head of more than one person that was responsible for this mess.

"The city's safe," he told the stone face harshly. "You got what you wanted. You know. For a night or two. Then the taint'll be right back and you'll - still - be - dead."

The shadows moved behind him.

"Dick," he acknowledged. He'd intended to be alone, and now that he wasn't he felt more on edge than ever, but maybe that was better. Dick and he had been rubbing each other wrong a lot lately, and a fight sounded like just what the healer ordered.

"Jason."

Jason sighed. That wasn't Dick's fighting voice. That was a tone he hadn't heard since Bruce had gone into the taint.

And this time Bruce wouldn't be coming back to fix it.

Dick stepped forward into the light of the torches that surrounded the grave. His face was twisted with grief.

Never let it be said that Jason kicked a man when he was down. Unless it was necessary.

He tried to focus on anything other than the seething rage and the emotion lurking behind it. "How's Tim holding up?"

Dick shrugged listlessly. "The coronation's tomorrow. He's . . . I don't think I've seen him look anything but blank since the night it happened. He's thrown himself into the work. He refuses to talk about anything else."

Jason groaned. "And the brat?"

"Damian's furious." Dick scrubbed a hand through his hair. "With you, mostly," he admitted after a moment.

And there was the fury raging up again. "I stayed on his back just like I was supposed to," he hissed. "I followed every order I was given this time. Don't you dare say this was on me. He told me he could handle it, and I had three of the taint-beasts on me at the same time. There was nothing I could have done, do you hear me?"

Dick actually looked startled. He made to put a hand on Jason's shoulder, but he jerked away from it.

"This wasn't my fault!"

But you know better than that, don't you? the taint whispered.

Shut up, he hissed back.

"Of course it's not your fault," Dick said. "No one thinks it is, Jason."

"Apparently Damian does."

Dick gave him a tired smile. "Not Damian either. He's just mad you didn't leave anyone for him to kill."

Oh.

The rage seeped out of him and just left that awful emptiness behind. He tried to sidetrack it by side-eying Dick. "As you're the official representative of law and order in this city, I feel like I should probably deny that."

Once Dick might have laughed at that. Now he just gave a weary huff. His eyes were sweeping the narrow catacomb. A long line of dead princes and their families stretched out before them.

"Not much room left," he said quietly.

Jason shrugged. "I'm sure they can dig another one."

"Yeah. Of course."

Jason didn't trust that tone. When Dick spoke next, he knew he'd been right not to.

"You ever wonder how long the city'll last without him?"

Yes. But that wasn't what Dick needed to hear right now. "As long as we're here to fight for it," he said firmly.

"That's not what you said the first time we lost him. I heard you talking to Stephanie. 'The city'd fall without him.'"

Yeah, well, first of all, the first time they'd lost Bruce, Dick hadn't been scaring him like this, and second of all, those words were a little out of context, and what did it matter what he thought anyway?

But. "The city needs the Bat," he conceded. "So get out there already."

It'd mean some identity shuffling, but Duke didn't have a firm identity yet anyway. They could make it work.

A bit more life entered Dick's eyes. "Right." He squeezed Jason's shoulders. "Thanks. I . . . needed that." He took one last look at the grave and stepped forward.

Or tried to. There was a distinct wobble.

Jason grabbed his arm. "Whoa. Maybe don't start the patrol tonight."

"I'm okay," Dick assured him. "The healers just have me drugged up a bit."

Because he was still injured. Right. Jason had forgotten that.

Drugs explained so much about their conversation tonight.

"Let's get you upstairs," Jason said, steering him toward one of the secret passageways. "You can be the big bad Bat tomorrow night."

"City needs someone tonight," Dick argued. The way his words had started to slur didn't really help his case.

"Great. You've already got the Bat's self-preservation skills down pat."

Jason was pretty sure Tim was still too young to be graying.

Of course, ruling a city was bound to take a toll on someone. Not to mention recent . . . events.

Jason couldn't quite bring himself to face it more head on than that. Not yet. Much easier to focus on the way his younger brother now looked decidedly older than him than to think about . . . that.

Of course, that was hard when he was watching Tim reach for the Bat's cowl.

"Your gloves are dripping." Tim's tone was politely unconcerned.

Jason looked down. So they were. He patted them off on his pants. "Not my blood," he clarified, in case there had been any doubt.

No, not his. Theirs, ripped from them just as he had torn out their twisted hearts in a green tinged rage, and they had still deserved far, far worse -

"I shared with Damian this time," he offered. He'd considered bringing Mar'i into it, as it was as much her right as anyone's, but it would have been - It wouldn't have been what he would have wanted.

"Bruce wouldn't have been happy." The observation was neutral, but Jason bristled anyway.

"What else was there to do?"

"Execution," Tim pointed out.

Jason snarled. "Execution was too good for them after what they did."

Tim still hadn't actually put the cowl on. "I could have had them tortured first. To make sure there weren't any more conspirators." He sounded as if he had put considerable thought into it.

It suddenly occurred to Jason that the mild tone might be hiding not judgement, but Tim's own desire for vengeance.

After what had happened, Jason didn't blame him one bit.

Even Bruce might not have.

"Next time," he promised.

Tim laughed bitterly. "Next time. There's always a next time." He stared down at the cowl. "Of course, if the pattern holds, I'll be the one who needs avenging next time."

"Don't talk like that," Jason said harshly. "Nothing's going to happen to you."

Tim smiled for the first time since they'd found what little remained of Dick. "Comforting lies from you, Jason? Really?"

"I think we both know I'm not the type."

Tim considered that for a moment before finally putting on the cowl. "True enough."

Of all the reasons Jason had snuck into the fortress to talk to a Bat, his fellow vigilantes' love lives had never before made the list.

But. Well. It was affecting their wok in the field.

Tim was in the library, not in costume, so that made things a little awkward, but Jason hadn't come this far to be put off.

"Tim."

Tim didn't look up from his papers. "Red King."

Jason considered taking his cloak off to force Tim to engage on a more personal level, but the risk was too high. He leaned back against one of the shelves, tense with frustration. "Haven't seen you for a couple of nights."

"I've been busy."

"Right. Sure. And this has nothing to do with you breaking things off with Red Knight."

Tim paused briefly before going back to his papers. "Not . . . nothing, but it's not what you think either."

"Explain it to me, then."

Tim sighed. "I'm getting married."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Timmy, but I don't think breaking things off with your girlfriend is a good way to build up to a proposal."

Tim swallowed. "Not to St-Red Knight."

The slip, more than anything, threw Jason off.

Of course, the rest of it wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting either.

"How long have you had some other girlfriend that I didn't know about?" And exactly whose side was he supposed to take in this whole mess?

Tim sighed and finally looked up. "It's not like that."

"Like I said. Explain it to me, then."

Tim handed over a miniature portrait of a blond woman in an elegant red and gold dress. "Lady Cassandra Sandsmark of Gateway City. She has strong ties to the ruling family there."

The pieces started to fall into place. "This is political." He shook his head in disbelief. "You're going to throw away a perfectly good relationship for politics? Really?"

"I need an heir," Tim pointed out. "Sooner rather than later."

"And what, Steph's not good enough?" Jason's anger was rising now. Stephanie had come from the same streets he did.

"You think I don't wish it worked that way?" Tim was on his feet, his own anger stoked. "We're a city on the edge. We need this alliance. If I marry her, we can get better access to their harbors. Better trade. And Lady Cassandra was taught the High Magic by Diana. We'll strengthen our ties to Diana and bring some of the High Magic to our city in one fell swoop. The happiness of two people doesn't outweigh that!"

"And you think trapping yourself in a miserable marriage is the answer?"

Some of the anger drained out of Tim. He gave a small shrug. "I met her once. We didn't speak long, but I liked her well enough. Conner knows her better, and he speaks well of her."

He had met her. Once.

Jason could only imagine what Dick would have had to say about all this.

But he could feel the way the taint had recoiled at the very mention of the High Magic, and he couldn't think of what else to say against it.

"You know, I used to be a little jealous that you were the one Bruce was able to name as his heir."

Tim actually grinned. "Thinking better of that one now?"

"Kid, I thought better of that one about two minutes after you took the job."

As much as Jason hated to admit it, the prince's marriage - and it was still weird to think of Tim as the city's prince - and the subsequent announcement a few month's later of an impending heir created more stability in the city.

It did mean Tim was busier than ever though, and as the due date got ever closer, he took to staying in a few nights a week.

Jason didn't begrudge him the time, but this really couldn't wait, so he slipped into the fortress and snuck through the window of Tim's room.

The last thing he expected was to step into a fight.

One black shrouded figure was already on the ground. Tim was grappling with another.

And losing.

Jason lunged forward with a growl and sliced his knife across the intruder's neck. He let the body hit the floor before turning to Tim. "You alright?"

Tim had a hand pressed against a wound, but he said through gritted teeth, "Cassie. Check Cassie."

Jason whirled around. The moonlight revealed tangled and bloodstained sheets on the bed, but no princess.

Where were the stupid guards?

If the princess was alright, she would have joined the fight.

Dread rising, Jason walked over to the other side of the bed.

Another assassin lay dead without a mark on him. Magic, Jason presumed.

There was also a large pool of blood.

He could hear Tim shuffling forward. Jason turned and closed the distance between them, pushing him backward. "Let's get you to a healer."

"Cassie," Tim insisted. "She got it worse."

Jason swallowed. He wished he had killed the intruder slower. He wished there were more left to kill.

"Yeah. Yeah, she did."

Tim went pale. "Cassie," he said again, helplessly this time. "The baby."

"You need a healer." He couldn't let Tim stop to think about it. Not when there was still blood seeping out from between his fingers. "Come on, keep pressure on it." He steered an unresisting Tim out of the room and nearly tripped.

Well, that answered why the guards hadn't come.

Tim stumbled.

"Come on, keep moving. Don't give up on me now, baby bird." It was dangerous for Jason to move openly through the hallways, but he didn't have a choice. Unless - Damian's room was close. If they could just make it there -

Assuming Damian was still alive.

Damian's room was on the same hallway. His guards had been taken out too. One stroke. They wouldn't have had the chance to scream.

Jason leaned Tim up against the wall. "Stay there."

It wasn't ideal by a long shot, but it was better than what might be in that room.

Jason kept his knife ready and burst through the door.

Damian, ever the light sleeper, jumped from the bed into a ready crouch.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

Damian rose, confused. "Jason? What is the meaning of this?"

"Get a healer," Jason said grimly. "Tim's hurt, and I can't be seen." He ducked back into the hallway to drag an increasingly out of it Tim inside.

It would mean getting blood on the no doubt expensive blankets, but Jason didn't much care. He guided Tim to the bed.

"What happened?" Damian demanded as he jumped forward to help.

"Assassins in black." Sudden realization hit. Assassins in black who had left the al Ghul alone. Assassins who had struck after Damian was no longer the heir presumptive. He shot a hard look at Damian. "Sound familiar?"

Damian's face went hard. "Grandfather. I will - " He cut off what sounded like the start to a very promising threat as Tim let out a groan. "The healer." He ran to fetch one.

Presumably.

Jason gritted his teeth and batted the suspicion away. Damian had been on their side for . . . for a couple of decades now, actually, however little Jason looked it. Ra's might be responsible, but that didn't mean Damian was.

"No proof," Tim said dully.

At least he was talking again. "We'll get proof," Jason promised roughly.

"Proof means war." Tim's eyes were impossibly distant. "Better to take private action."

"That works too." Jason still had a soft spot for Talia, but he wouldn't mind seeing Ra's head on a stick. "Give me two weeks to travel, and I can bring you his head in a bag." He grabbed one of the blankets and started cutting off a strip to use a bandage.

"Not you. And not Ra's. Kill him, and the taint will take his whole city."

"I don't particularly care at the moment," Jason growled. "And what do you mean I can't do it?" He shoved Tim's hand aside to put the bandage on.

And froze.

There was something very unnatural about that wound.

"Poison," Tim whispered. "Remember when Bruce used to drill us on those?"

Jason swallowed hard and kept bandaging the wound. "Didn't Dick come up with some stupid little rhyme?"

He had. Jason knew he had. He still remembered it too.

From the look in Tim's eyes, he remembered it too. "I'm not coming back from this one."

"It's slow," Jason tried. "With the healer, it could take weeks. We'll find something."

"Weeks," Tim agreed. "But that's it."

Something heavy and hot was curled up in Jason's chest.

"Don't tell Damian. Have him go send Ra's a message."

"What?"

"He's the heir now," Tim whispered. "The timing will have to be perfect. He can't be here when I start to go, but he needs to be back before I die, and he needs to be surprised. Have to . . . allay suspicion."

"If he finds out I knew and didn't tell him, you're not going to be the only who ends up dead."

Tim drooped a little on the bed. Jason hurried to sit next to him, so that he'd have someone to lean into.

"You'll be alright," Tim managed.

He always was. Always would be as long as that dead man's curse remained unfinished.

That wasn't the comfort it had once been.

Jason barely recognized the network of vigilantes in the city these days. Mar'i was Nightwing, Lian was Red Knight, that kid Tim had started to train, Carrie, was Robin, Duke was off being an ambassador to another city, and Barbara couldn't hold on to her position as Oracle for much longer.

Pretty soon it might just be him and Damian of the old hats.

And Damian was barely speaking to him these days, so.

Not, of course, that that kept Jason from stopping by to speak to him. It was what the rest of the family would have wanted.

"Hiya, Batsy. How's the brooding tonight?"

Okay, maybe not exactly what they would have wanted, but if Damian was going to revert to being a brat, then Jason was going to beat him at his own game or die trying.

And they all knew he didn't die these days.

Damian actually twitched. Score.

Of course, it might have just been because he hadn't seen Jason swing onto the roof behind him, but that was a victory in and of itself.

"Hey, Red," Robin said cheerily. She hopped up on a gargoyle to get the height she needed to look him in the eye. "The Bat's got something he wants to ask you."

"Oh?" This ought to be good. He turned to Damian expectantly.

"Tt." Damian turned away.

"Well, you definitely got those communication skills from your old man."

Damian tensed. "Robin, we're leaving."

Robin scowled. "Oh, no, we're not. Not until you ask." She pulled her slingshot out and aimed it firmly at Damian. "Don't make me use this."

Damian sighed, but he turned around to face Jason.

And considering that for once there wasn't anything all that dangerous loaded in that slingshot of hers, he must have been on the verge of giving in anyway. They were making progress.

"I am . . . getting married," he gritted out.

Jason's eyebrows went up. "Who's the unlucky lady?"

"A woman of the Gotham nobility." It would be too dangerous to give out her name out in the open, even if they thought they were alone. "It has been rumored that I am too foreign to be suitable. Hopefully this will quiet the whispers."

And even more importantly, provide an heir, because right now, the people with the best claims to the throne after Damian were Mar'i and Jason, and 'daughter of possible illegitimate child of Bruce' and 'tainted possible illegitimate child of Bruce' were not the kind of claims that kept things from spiraling into a civil war.

You could win it, the taint whispered.

Yeah, if it was trying to tempt him, it was going the wrong way about it.

"Congratulations?" Considering Damian's tone, he wasn't entirely sure that was the right sentiment, but maybe Damian was just ticked at having to tell him.

"I was . . . "

"Hoping," Robin supplied.

Damian grimaced. " . . . wondering . . . if you would make an appearance. In a suitable disguise, of course."

Jason swallowed. There was a long list of people who should have been there for this.

"I'll see what I can do. Might even see if I can drag the old Red Knight out of retirement to come with."

"That would be . . . good," Damian conceded.

A thought struck him and chased some of the melancholy away. Jason grinned wickedly. "I'll even bring a gift."

"Red King - " Damian started to say with considerable alarm.

But Jason was already gone, laughing as he went.

It wouldn't be anything too bad. Just a little something to brighten up the ceremony a bit.

An animal of some kind. Damian had always spent a lot of time with the hunting dogs. He could bring one of those. Or a cat.

Or, he considered as he swung over the market, a cow.

The last time one of his brothers had been about to become a father, it had ended with three deaths on their side, and Damian coming back from his home city with a red stained blade.

Or in other words, while Jason wouldn't mind having a nephew or another niece, he'd have felt a fair amount of trepidation until they were safely born.

He'd just never thought he'd be waiting this long to hear the news.

Too long.

When the news finally did come, the last thing he was expecting was . . . this.

"What. In. The. Spiral."

Damian stilled for a moment but didn't actually look up from aggressively petting the dog in his lap. Jason wasn't sure why said dog had been allowed into the Bat's main planning room, but that wasn't the biggest issue at the moment.

"Is there a problem, Jason?"

"Why, no, there's certainly no problem with you having an illegitimate child. Or two. With the same woman. Who is married. All of which I had to find out about from the stinking rumor mill and then the official announcement like the rest of this rotting city."

"You did not exactly make yourself easy to contact."

"I was in the middle of repelling a coup attempt from that idiot who thought he could claim my court," Jason snapped. "Don't you dare pin this one me. You've been keeping this secret for seventeen years now. You could have found the time."

"I found out only two weeks ago," Damian corrected.

"See, I could believe that if you hadn't gone back to the same woman and had another kid."

"They are not mine."

That brought Jason up short. "So what is this? Some sort of scam to avoid a succession war?"

Except they had done tests with blood wards publicly, hadn't they? And Damian had said he had 'found out.'

"They are Father's."

Jason froze.

Then logic reasserted itself. "How exactly does that math work?" Bruce had been cold in his grave long before either of those kids had been born.

Damian grimaced. "Through some unholy mix of the blood magics and the old High Magic. Apparently. The details are - "

"Frankly, I don't want the details," Jason cut in. "Who thought that was a good idea?"

Damian's scowl deepened. "A woman I am attempting to hunt down. That aside, I have determined that there is no trace in the taint in them, and the older one has some promise, so they will serve well enough."

"That's . . . certainly one way of looking at it." Jason shook his head. "Even beyond the grave, Bruce just keeps getting more children."

Damian's lips twitched slightly. "True."

"What about everyone else involved? Their mom, their dad, your wife, for that matter. Terry might predate the marriage by a bit, but Matt sure doesn't."

Damian sighed. "Their father is dead, so he presents no obstacle. I believe I have successfully bribed their mother into keeping her mouth shut. As to my wife," his mouth tightened. "Well. It is not as though her feelings for me got any worse."

Jason winced. Tim's arranged marriage had worked out well for both parties involved. Well. Right up until the assassination. Damian's . . . Well, frankly, assassination was probably the only thing that could have improved Damian's at this point.

"Better send Duke the news," he said.

Damian frowned. "I have already sent a message informing him that the city has gained two new heirs."

"Yeah," Jason agreed, "but that's a bit different than letting people know that they've got two new brothers."

There had been a time where people could have looked at Damian and Jason and legitimately thought they were brothers.

These days, Damian could easily go undercover as Jason's grandfather.

Jason slid a piece on the chessboard. "Your move, Bat."

"I am not the Bat anymore. You know this."

No, that was Terry. The last couple of years had been full of all sorts of firsts. The first Bat to give up the cowl while there was still breath in his lungs. The first heir to get happily married and have a kid before even ascending the throne.

The first of their number to die outside of the city. The first to die in their sleep.

But Duke and Stephanie's deaths were still a little too raw to dwell on long.

"Once a Bat, always a Bat," Jason said with forced flippancy. "Now stop stalling and make your move."

The taint surged. The Joker, young as ever, clawed his way out to create havoc in the city again. It was all hands on deck.

All hands.

Once a Bat, always a Bat, and now there was a broken body in the street, and Jason really, really wished he hadn't said that.

It wasn't that Terry was a bad Bat. It was just that for all he was technically Bruce's son, he was the first Bat that Bruce had never actually met to approve of.

He half thought about claiming the name for his own, but the taint's hold felt tighter than ever, and he didn't quite trust himself. Not with that legacy.

Bats came. Bats went.

Jason? Jason stayed the same.

There had been a time where he'd actually been reluctant to try and kill the Joker.

It was hard to remember that feeling now.

Which didn't actually make it any easier to do.

He wasn't the last one left who remembered. There was still Clark. Still Conner. Still Diana.

But as the taint grew and the roads grew more and more dangerous, even for them, he saw them less and less.

He was sharpening a knife over a dead man when Robin showed up in that shiny red uniform threaded through with clockwork that was so different from the suit he once had worn.

He glanced around. "Where's your grimmer half?" He and the current Bat didn't get on well. Jason didn't approve of the mechanization of the Bat suit. The Bat didn't appreciate him sharing his opinion. Things had escalated from there.

Robin was alright, though. And he always had a soft spot for Robins, regardless.

That was when he really looked at Robin, and he knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"He's gone." Her voice shook a little at the end.

"Ah, man." He straightened up and tucked the knife into his belt. The current Bat had been her . . . uncle? Kid was in for a rough time either way. Whatever the exact relation, the Bat had been prince of the city, and this poor eleven year old was his heir. This was going to be a mess. "Who got him?"

"The Jokerz." She swallowed hard. "I got one of them. The rest got away."

That was another thing that had changed. He wasn't the only one with blood on his hands anymore. They couldn't afford to do otherwise.

"I'll help you get 'em, alright?" he said gently. "Now where's the body? We need to move it before someone else gets to it."

"I already did," she whispered. "I - I moved it to one of your safe houses."

"Good job," he praised. This girl had nerves of steel. That would have been hard work at her size. "Let me see what we're working with, and I'll help you figure out a story to tell everyone." He wished that there was someone else to take her home and calm her down while he worked, but the Bat had been forced to send ever more of the city's defenders into the surrounding villages in order to keep them defended. It was the only way to keep any kind of crop coming in to keep the city from starving. With that surge lately, the two of them might be the last vigilantes in the city.

Which brought up another problem.

"Who's next in line for the cowl?" Normally, Robin would at least be a candidate, but this one had been training for what, two years now? There was no way she was going out there in it.

She started to lead him toward the safe house. "I think it should be you."

He stumbled. "What?"

She ducked her head. "I - did some research on you. I was curious."

Oh, boy. "So?"

"So you're Jason, aren't you? Son of Prince Bruce the Great?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "That's . . . complicated. And beside the point. In case you haven't noticed, I'm tainted." And had the bright, glowing green eyes to prove it. "And I'm the Red King." Mind, he almost trusted his second enough to leave that side of the city to him . . .

No. He was not actually considering this. There were few enough cities left in the Spiral as it was, he was not going to doom Gotham by taking the reins.

"It's your birthright," she insisted.

"It's really not." He racked his brain. "What about Nightwing? We could call Nightwing back."

Robin wrinkled her nose. "He tried to kill me once. He doesn't think I'm a suitable Robin."

Okay, maybe he'd gotten a bit out of touch. "Okay, what about . . . Signal? I've heard good things about Signal."

"She's tainted too. And Ghost is dead - actually dead, not just resurrected dead, and Bluejay's technically in exile for being a traitor to the throne, and Flamebird's essentially under siege."

. . . Fantastic.

He actually might be the most qualified candidate.

"Please," she begged. "I'll do it if I have to, but I won't last long, and you know the prophecy. Once we lose the Bat, the city'll fall."

He stared at her. "Kid. Kid, do you know who first said that? I did. I was the one who said that."

"So you do know the prophecy!"

He groaned. "There is no prophecy! It was something stupid I said rather than admit I was upset about the possibility of Bruce dying, alright? No prophecy. No need for the Bat."

She was plainly unconvinced.

And to be fair, prophecy or no prophecy . . . Gotham needed the Bat.

This was a terrible idea.

"I'm not wearing a mechanized suit." He sighed. "But I'm in."

Robin flung herself at him and wrapped him in a hug. Her shoulders were shaking.

Jason put one awkward arm around her and tried to remember what Dick would do in a moment like this.

There was an eleven year old girl sitting on the throne.

The sharks circled.

There was a man in a dark cloak with a hood that cast his eyes in shadows who stood in the darkness behind the throne.

And sharks were easy pickings for him.

There was a tiny Robin who now almost never had to make the final blow.

There was a hulk of a man who still looked barely of age who did it for her. Former Robin. Former Red King. And now, more or less immortal Bat.

And as everyone knew, the taint could never claim the city so long as there was a Bat.

Warnings: Death of pretty much everybody, references to torture, death of a pregnant woman, and death of her unborn child.

A/N: According to the CIA, these days an American's life expectancy is a little over 78 years. Thus, in Minimum Height Requirement 50 is a concerning year because Bruce's fighting ability is definitely going down, but the bat family definitely isn't worried about losing Bruce for awhile yet.

But in a world like this one?

According to BBC, in medieval Europe the average life experience was about 30. Of course, that factors in things like infant mortality; if you managed to make it to thirty, you could reasonably hope to make it to your fifties.

But just to your fifties.

Some people, of course, defied the odds and made it past that, but Bruce's lifestyle choices kind of make it unlikely that he would be one of those people. It's equally true that this world is a very different place from medieval Europe. For one thing, they've got magic that makes for way better healthcare.

On the other hand, they've got the taint, so it kind of evens out, and the point stands. When Bruce reaches fifty here, the bat family is right to start thinking of him as having one foot out the door.

On ships: I ship Tim with Stephanie, but with her pre-established backstory in this 'verse, getting them together permanently was not realistic. I considered putting him together with Tam Fox, as making her a noble in this 'verse would make sense, but she would be a Gotham noble, so it seemed to make more sense for him to marry someone outside the city.

I have no idea who Damian married other than that it was Mar'i. That relationship frankly bothers me a bit even within its context of Damian and Dick not being raised at all as brothers; in this 'verse, where Damian definitely thinks of Dick as a brother and where three quarters of the populace assumes they're related to boot, there was no way I was doing it.

I am aware that Mar'i was Dick's kid with Starfire, not Barbara, but to my knowledge, there's no version of canon where he has a kid with Barbara, so I borrowed the name.