Chapter Text
Ra’s Al Ghul was not usually someone who let weakness touch him. Pity was for lesser men.
For centuries he had led the League of Assassins with an iron fist. He made a name for himself across the seas- The Head of the Demon.
Ra’s had knowledge and experience that most people could only ever dream of comprehending. Much less rival.
There were only a handful of things that he had no understanding of. A handful of things that he didn’t understand.
One was currently laying lifelessly in front of him.
“How is he?” Ra’s asked his daughter.
Talia sat at the boy’s side, fingers clasped around his hand as her thumb rubbed circles against his skin. Her eyes were rimmed red and shadows were deep beneath them.
Looking at her now, one would never believe that she was a daughter of the Demon’s Head.
“He is… alive.” Her eyes flicked up at him and even though it was brief, he could see the worry and vulnerability hidden within the depths of her eyes. “You were right, Baba.” She whispered, “I never should’ve- I shouldn’t have let him go back.”
He froze, caught off guard. Talia hadn’t called him Baba in decades. Not since-
Unexpectedly, his stance softened and he stepped forward.
Talia tensed when his shadow fell over her, but she did not move as he lowered himself beside her. His hand came to rest on her shoulder before gently allowing the distance between them to close.
She stiffened and for a second, he was scared that she would push him away but then her whole body sagged with defeat and she shoved her forehead in his shoulder the exact same way she used to when she was a kid. He felt the cloth dampen but he did not pull away.
“I just- I just wanted him to be happy.” Her voice hitched but he stayed quiet. “He wanted to go back. He wanted to see Bruce again. He wanted his family back and I… I wasn’t strong enough to say no.”
She pulled away and looked up at him, “The healers claim that he should’ve died.” Talia admitted, voice full of pain and regret. “They claimed that it was a miracle that he survived for so long with nothing but a frail bond.”
He did not need Shiva’s abilities to see how guilt radiated off of his daughter in waves. She believed that she failed him because she let him go but she couldn’t have been more wrong.
That was a lesson that would come with time.
Ra’s gaze drifted to the omega, pale and broken yet still stubbornly clinging to the last thread of his life. The weak beating of his heart echoed throughout the room.
A miracle, indeed.
A miracle that the Detective had foolishly taken for granted.
Ra’s Al Ghul would not make the same mistake.
Throughout the years, the population of omegas had dwindled. There was no explanation as to why. It was a global phenomenon and scholars, researchers, mages and more had spent countless years traveling and praying for answers, but none came.
And the world just continued to spin as humans and their designations further evolved.
But, as rare as they are, omegas did still exist.
They were highly sought after and highly coveted. To many, having an omega meant that the gods themselves had blessed you. They were proof of fortune. Proof of strength. Proof of a good pack.
The Al Ghuls have not had a pack omega for years. When his wife passed, Ra’s could not bring himself to seek another. He could not replace the mother of Talia or Nyssa. Nor did he want to.
And it wasn't needed because omegas were no longer essential to have a successful pack.
Designations had adapted to their absence and responsibilities for both alpha and beta had increased. Alphas shouldered the more physical responsibilities while betas took over the more emotional aspects. Bonds had been reshaped as well.
Over and over again, human kind had proved that they were nothing if not resilient and their designations had endured.
Resilience, however, did not mean perfection.
While the world might have forgotten, the Al Ghuls had not.
The Western portrayal of omegas had done more damage than anyone could have ever known. Cultures were erased. Their importance had been wiped and history was rewritten while the entire world was watching.
Omegas began to be seen as prizes to be kept and paraded around. They were a blessing. Fragile. Weak.
Ra's scoffed. Omegas were not weak and meek beings that needed an alpha's guiding hand for every decision. They were the core of a pack. The reason for its balance.
But everyone had forgotten, even the omegas themselves.
Ra's had not seen a proper omega in decades.
At least, not until Jason Todd.
Ra’s watched as the boy swept through his assassins with ease. Each strike was precise and each step was flawless. The bat’s training could easily be seen in the boy's fighting style but at the same time, he could see that there was something more. Something layered that did not belong to the bat.
Though, he didn’t know what it was.
Yet.
The boy’s eyes were empty. There was no spark or spirit shining through them. His body was relying on nothing but pure instinct. Even his scent was absent, muted to nothing, as though he was cloaked with suppressants. But Talia had assured him that there was none.
It was interesting. The boy should be dead. The boy was dead. However, by fate’s design, he was given another chance at life and awakened once more.
His daughter hummed beside him, her gaze fixed to the boy. “What are your thoughts, father?”
“He is decent.” The boy flipped over three assassins in a singular fluid motion before disarming one and throwing that knife towards another. “You may keep him.”
Talia bowed her head in gratitude, “Thank you.”
He inclined his head in return, subtle and deliberate, before standing up. All movement in the room ceased. Everyone looked up, stilling beneath the weight of his gaze.
“Enough,” his voice carried weight and power. “You are all dismissed.”
Ra’s turned, not giving them a second glance. He walked out with unhurried steps. He did not need to see more.
The boy had proven himself and his daughter was already attached. There was little he could do but allow her to keep him.
That was the last time he expected to hear about his daughter’s new pet.
But then, Ra’s found himself searching for him.
It should have been unnecessary. The boy should not have been in his mind at all after that day. He was his daughter’s problem, not his.
And yet… everywhere Ra’s went, whispers of the boy followed.
His people spoke of him with unease.
They spoke of his reflexes, how he moved with ease as he cut through seasoned assassins. They muttered about his scent and how incredibly muted it was. It was as if he wasn’t there. And always, they would speak of his eyes. How unnaturally empty it was. How hollow. How defeated.
The boy was not one of them but his name threaded through their tongues as if he was.
He slipped into the training hall without announcement. None of his Shadows noticed his arrival, he had taught them long ago that if he wished to be seen, then he would allow it.
Talia stood at the edge of the mats, her gaze fixed on the boy. He moved through her chosen assassins with mechanical precision. He was efficient, adaptive, learning with each strike- flaws corrected once and never again repeated.
Even hollow-eyed, even muted, he fought as though he was the incarnation of survival.
Begrudgingly, he was impressed. The boy had a certain instinct that no training could manufacture. The Detective had chosen him for a reason and Ra’s could not blame him for it.
He could not tear his eyes away and then, in the middle of motion, the boy stopped.
His body went rigid, unnaturally still, and the entire hall froze in confusion. Slowly, his head turned, and his empty eyes fixed directly on the shadows where Ra’s stood concealed.
The boy bowed.
A ripple of shock tore through the hall. None of the assassins hesitated. One by one, they followed the boy’s lead.
Even Talia’s brows lifted, surprise flickering across her composed features. None of them had sensed him. No one but the boy.
Ra’s let the silence stretch before he stepped forward, his presence flooding the room. He did not look at the men as they dropped lower in deference.
He walked toward his daughter, who was watching him with narrowed eyes.
Once noise began to fill the room again, he turned to his daughter.
“Tell me about the boy. How has his progress been?”
The corner of her mouth lifted.
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and every day, the boy continued to improve.
He got faster, sharper, more lethal. Lessons were absorbed with unnatural speed. If he had more time, Ra’s had no doubt that the boy would’ve flourished under the Detective’s tutelage into something formidable.
That, however, was not what fate had in store. Ra’s did not know why they brought the boy back to life but he would stop at nothing until he found out.
When the healers studied him, their faces were drawn and their voices hushed as though the boy himself might hear.
He is bondless. They revealed. It should be impossible.
But Ra’s was beginning to understand that the boy was someone whose very being defied that word.
No designation survived untethered for long, and yet the boy endured.
The healers showed the scans and his body bore the signs- fever, strain, instability- and yet, the boy did not break.
More time passed and the boy still lived.
The healers confessed they did not know how much longer he could last. His condition defied every record, every teaching. He should not have been able to stand, much less fight.
“Impossible,” they whispered, again and again- as if repeating the word might undo the reality before them.
Ra’s agreed to his daughter’s whims easily.
With a simple nod, it was confirmed, the boy would be allowed to submerge in the Lazarus Pit.
He warned her of the risks. The boy who entered would not be the same as the one who emerged.
The Pit gave life, but it also took. It carved away what it wished, left scars no blade could match. Ra’s had seen men return brilliant, and others return broken.
The boy could be either.
And yet, Ra’s was not worried.
The waters boiled when the boy’s body was lowered in.
Talia held her breath as his skin vanished beneath the green glow and her knuckles were white where she gripped the rail. He underestimated just how attached she got.
Ra’s stood unmoving and kept his eyes fixed on the surface. He had watched this countless times and had been the subject even more.
Though, this time… it felt different. Was different.
The Pit roared and the boy thrashed, limbs jerking, lips parting in a soundless cry. Steam rose around him and the stench of chemicals filled the air.
For a moment, Ra’s wondered if the boy would vanish into the madness that had claimed so many before him.
But then his head broke the surface.
He gasped, ragged and wild, eyes burning with unnatural light. The Shadows shifted uneasily, muttering prayers under their breath. Ra’s silenced them with a glance.
The boy lived again.
… And when he turned to him-
For first time since the boy had left Gotham, Ra’s could see emotion in his eyes.
The days that followed were fevered.
The boy’s body burned with the aftershocks of the Pit. At times he lay still as stone, breath shallow, sweat beading across his brow.
At others he thrashed against the sheets, muscles seizing, incoherent sounds torn from his throat. The healers kept their distance and even Talia’s hand was sometimes pushed aside by the violence of it.
Ra’s watched, patient and unmoving. He had seen the Pit reshape men before. The life that the waters gave was not without cost. They carved, they remade, and they always demanded a price.
And as days passed, the boy began to change.
He was presenting.
It took time- presenting always did. The body reshaped itself and their instincts sharpened. It was supposed to be a painless process.
But like always, the boy was different.
It began with his scent.
At first it was faint, barely noticed. Then it grew, sharper by the day, until it filled the chamber so completely that no one could ignore it.
No one could deny it.
It was sweet, warm, and undeniably omega. The kind of scent that packs once anchored themselves around.
His people whispered in disbelief and even Talia was shocked, not once expecting this outcome.
“Impossible,” they repeated once again. “That’s impossible.”
Ra’s did not talk. He only stared as he stood in the doorway, watching as the truth settled across the room. The healers bowed their heads, muttering in disbelief.
The Shadows kept their eyes lowered, eyes darting to the boy and Talia pressed a trembling hand to her lips, grief and relief woven into one.
And Ra’s, like always, remembered.
The date was burned into him- the anniversary of his wife’s death, the last omega of their line.
The same day fate had chosen to return another. It could not be chance.
And Ra’s never believed in coincidence.
Fate had taken and now fate had restored.