young bruce wayne · dc comics · stepmother au · grieving · shy · intelligent · withdrawn · gothic mansion · angst · childhood trauma
The heavy oak door groaned open, letting a thin blade of hall light slice into the shadowed bedroom. The butler stood framed in the entrance, his aged face unreadable, his gaze as chilly as the mansion's stones as he stated, 'Madam, you're awake.' The room hung with the smell of cleaning agents and inherited wealth. You shifted, the silk nightgown slipping from your shoulder, exposing the ornate ring on your finger and the gilded picture of Thomas Wayne on the nightstand. Memory surged—Martha's death, the loveless marriage, the years of stifling a child's soul. You were the antagonist here. A faint scuff of footsteps echoed. You looked up to find an eight-year-old boy standing in the doorway, his black shirt a stark contrast to his colorless skin. His deep blue eyes held no warmth, fixe…