#people: who cares about Damian??? what about poor Tim? (who was already going to drift apart from the family regardless)

[bitterrobin]

the mom/dadification of Dick really starts to be detrimental when people say things like "[insert parental figure] should've done more to properly reprimand/comfort [insert whump blorbo here]" Especially when it comes to the 2009 era with Tim's whole deal - its always "why didn't Dick 'parent' Damian better and do something for Tim???" and never actually analyzing why that whole idea is wrong. Dick isn't Tim's father and Dick isn't Damian's father. He's Tim's older brother first and foremost. Why does whenever Bruce die or do something shitty suddenly everyone shoves Dick into the Fatherhood role? He has responsibility as the adult in simple terms, yes, but at the time of Bruce's death in the 2009 Reborn era he was not Damian's family.

He was watching Damian because Damian at the time was an obstacle, like running around having to carry a bomb and watch it so it doesn't explode. He wasn't taking care of Damian because he cared about the kid (at first) and he told Tim that much before Tim decided to leave. He explicitly told Tim that he trusted him as an equal partner, not another kid he needed to watch out for. And whether that sentiment is wrong or not is your opinion, but theres something to said about Dick's own struggles with independence and how he was probably trying to give Tim a chance of independence that wouldn't end as badly as Dick and Bruce's schism did. It backfired in a sense, and honestly I feel regardless of whether Tim stayed as Robin or not things would still have ended shitty because they were both grieving and Tim is a teenager becoming an adult and they were not agreeing on the Bruce thing. (Even if Tim was never shown on panel telling Dick his actual ideas for Bruce being alive before he left).

Whatever idk. I just feel people forget Dick has his own serious issues and absolutely none of the Batman characters would be adept at therapy speak or actively acknowledging their own problems. Dick has his own shit to deal with, just as Tim has his own issues and Damian has issues. There's never going to be a correct solution to the very human conflict going on. You can't "I'm a good parent/sibling" your way out of it. Dick suddenly gaining self-sentience and deciding to punish Damian like a dad would change nothing. Honestly it'd make things worse, Damian has never responded well to parenting and I don't get why people think getting yelled at or put in baby jail would fix his deep-seated issues with the concept of mom/dad. Damian getting punished wouldn't fix anything. Tim staying Robin wouldn't fix anything because he was already set on leaving to search for clues on his theory.

[ragingbookdragon]

“Good evening,” she greeted warmly, taking the microphone from Lucius. “It’s a pleasure to welcome all of you to Wayne Manor this evening.” Her eyes drifted around the room, falling on one certain, egotistical man. Something annoying split through her, but she ignored it and focused on the smiling faces of her family and friends who were all standing and waiting for her speech.

“We’re gathered here because…” she faltered as her eyes fell on him again. Clearing her throat, she recovered with a smile. “We’re gathered here tonight because Bruce and I won the lucky raffle of holding the Elite Meeting this month.” While the group laughed her eyes came back to the one man and she sighed then turned to him. “I’m sorry, Mister Luthor, it’s good to see you.”

He smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Missus Wayne. It’s good to see you as well.”

She hummed. “I’m glad you’re with us tonight.”

Immediately her sons and husband knew something was wrong because her eyes kept coming back to the seated man. No one wanted Lex Luthor around and the fact that she’d said something like that meant that something was bugging her. Nevertheless, she continued with her speech.

“We’ve been seeing increased numbers in the stocks of everyone’s companies across the country and world. Production is up as well as approval ratings from the public…” Her eyes fell on Lex again and she sighed once more with a tired smile. “Forgive me, Mister Luthor. But didn’t you just introduce a new line of technology? Microcomputers under the epidermis?”

He nodded, sipping his wine. “Yes, Missus Wayne. It gives people the ability to store memory, complete transactions, make calls and texts, and so much more.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I ask because I’ve read the articles and reviews by people who’ve received these implants and so far, there’s been a touch of negativity. Faulty wiring, short circuiting, etcetera.”

“I can assure that my products are one hundred percent safe, Missus Wayne,” Lex replied coolly.

“And those who’ve commented negative results? You’re taking care of them, correct?”

“Of course,” he shot back, and she nodded.

“Do you also take care of the workers in the out of state factories who’ve complained multiple times of poor working conditions and even poorer pay?” her eyes were narrowed sharply. “While you’re thinking about that, let me ask a few more.”

“Have you cleared safety regulations in your own facilities in state? I’ve heard more than a few people have been hurt while on your floors.” She blinked. “What of the LGBTQ discrimination lawsuits that’ve been buried by your company board members?” She gestured to him. “Think about those questions, would you?”

“One last thing—” she raised to her full imposing height and admonished, “While you may be mistaking this for your monthly meeting of the ‘Ignorant Tight-Ass Club’—In this building, when the Lady of the Manor stands?” She shot him the darkest glare she could manage and threatened, “Nobody sits.”

They stared one another down for what seemed like an eternity before Lex cleared his throat and rather embarrassingly got to his feet, ignoring the amused stares from the other standing guests. She gave him one last glare before smiling, jumping into her speech once more.

***

She wiped the makeup cleaning pad across her skin, watching as Bruce emerged from the steaming bathroom, walking to his dresser. “How was patrol?” she asked, swiping the lipstick off.

“It was fine,” he replied, slipping on a pair of boxers. “Wasn’t too much going on tonight. Surprisingly enough.”

Laughing, she wiped the rest of her makeup off and pressed the warm rag against her skin. “I figured we’d see something tonight at the dinner party.”

At that, his head shot up and he turned to look at her, as if remembering something. “About tonight…what you said—”

“I’m not apologizing for it,” she retorted. “That bald asshole should’ve stood when the others did. He did that shit for show. To see if he could get away with it.”

Bruce chuckled and wandered behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders, thumbs digging into her skin in the way that made her groan and loll her head back against his stomach. “I was going to say that you were…extraordinary tonight.”

Her brows furrowed. “I gave Lex Luthor third degree and you thought that was extraordinary? I thought you found it extraordinary when I kicked ass in a skintight suit?”

He squeezed her shoulders. “I find you extraordinary whether you kick ass as a vigilante or give third degree burns as my beautiful and wonderful wife.” Bending down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, grinning when she smiled and he shifted, pressing one to her lips. “I also think,” he murmured against her lips, “that you are—”

The door slammed against the wall and she cocked her head up, immediately crying in pain when she kissed Bruce’s forehead with hers.

“Fucker!” she cursed, reaching up to nurse her head. “Are you alright?” she asked Bruce and he grunted, rubbing his forehead.

“Fine.”

They turned to the door and saw their sons hurrying inside, and she frowned. “Boys, what the hell? It’s like eleven thirty? Why aren’t you all in bed?”

Dick snorted. “Uh, because we’re nocturnal, mom.” He waved it off. “But that’s not the point. Timmy?”

Her third son walked up and handed her his tablet. “You’ve already gotten two million views, mom.”

“On what?” she inquired, pressing play and the event from the night filtered through the speakers, and most importantly, When the Lady of the Manor stands? Nobody sits.

Jason giggled. “Everyone is in hysterics over watching you give Lex the verbal beat-down he deserved.”

“You did well, Umi.” Damian noted proudly and she sighed, though she couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed, only weirdly giddy.

Bruce paused the video. “Mmm, watching it in person is one thing, but it’s another to be able to pause it on those moments where your face is holding that air of superiority.” He purred, “It’s sexy.”

Their sons groaned and gagged, and Tim yanked his tablet out of her hands, already spinning for the door. “YOU GUYS ARE SO GROSS!” Dick complained and the others shouted in agreement as they slammed the door behind them, leaving her and Bruce to laugh.

[anjuschiffer]

Even in Hell, There’s a Place Called Home

A bit out of my usual writing and different from my usual formats, but there’s always a reason behind the madness. 

------

This an overdue prompt I wanted to write for @chocolate1721 so after two whole months, here it is! Of course, I kinda strayed from the original concept... Hope you enjoy it!

------

Concept/Context: The Batfam are demons. During a failed summoning, Damian adopts the sacrifice (Mari). He takes her home. Ensue the chaos

------

Warning: graphic scenes, gore, blood, mention of animal sacrifices, human sacrifices, character death

------

Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life

------

AO3

------

Marinette tried to keep herself calm as chants were spoken all around her, every now and then hearing the soft jingle of bells that haunted her every thought.

She stared at the pitch black ceiling as her back was pressed against the cold stone table, the blinds at her wrists and ankles cutting into her flesh. 

She had tried to fight back, but the cold shackles’ clinking laughed at her efforts, causing her to stop struggling.

So dressed with nothing but scraps of fabric to cover her chest and lower region, Marinette could only wait until she was sacrificed to whatever it was her mother and her cult were attempting to summon this time. 

They had found a new summoning book in the depths of the abandoned church, the Cult believing that they would give it a try. So after carefully planning the ritual for months and gathering the herbs and animals they could steal, and kidnap a child to sacrifice, the ritual went underway.

It was just her luck that she was the child they chose for this occasion.

It was the greatest honor to be chosen, her mother had told her…

Should she even call Sabine her mother?

What kind of mother offers their own child to be a candidate to be sacrificed?

What kind of mother encourages their child to even think about wanting to sacrifice themselves for a ritual they don’t even care about?!

Marinette let out a shuddering breath as she tried to recollect her thoughts, to compose herself as she tried to accept her unwanted fate.

However, the fact that they were in the middle of the animal blood ritual wasn’t helping. 

Marinette watched as bowls of blood were set beside her, bloody organs adorning the outer edges of the table she was strapped to. The stench of iron hit her nose, wrinkling in disgust. 

Marinette didn’t know what organ belonged to what animal, but she honestly couldn’t care. Those poor animals didn’t deserve to be killed for such foolish reasons!

More chanting filled her ears as her mo-Sabine stood beside Marinette and drew a symbol onto her forehead, forearms and stomach. 

She felt the swirls that trailed down her arms and body, knowing some dots were added along the way. 

Marinette felt as the temperature in the room began to increase, feeling beads of sweat trickled down her head. 

She felt as her entire being went cold as she felt something drag across her abdomen, screaming as they dug deeper into her skin. The grinding of the shackles rang in her head as she tugged and pulled, writhing in pain. 

Marinette could hear her screams echo within the abandoned church’s walls, a red light coming into view, an odd comfort coming from it.

She listened as her breaths started to grow longer and less short, containing more air as she bared the pain aching from her stomach.

The chants were soon spoken more quickly and with vigor, Marinette only then noticing a dagger that was dangerously close to her chest, feeling her urge to fight to rise once more.

That’s when he came into view.

Something rose to her vision, something that appeared to be human, yet it also wasn’t one. It looked at her with sad emerald eyes as everyone in the cult stopped what they were doing as the being approached her mother.

While he approached her, Marinette also heard another voice. It softly whispered to her, it’s smooth and hypnotic melody calmed her, feeling her eyelids gradually becoming heavier with each passing second. 

She soon found herself drifting off, the screams and shrieks of the cult lulling her to sleep. 

———

Damian didn’t want to go. 

“You have to go.” Bruce said, flipping a page from the book he was reading, ignoring the yells coming from the other room of the manor. 

“Why should I grace them with my presence?” Damian asked, motioning to the portal he had created. “They’re literally using animal sacrifices to summon me Father. Animal. Sacrifices.”

Bruce huffed, fully knowing what was stopping Damian from going to where he was being summoned. 

Despite being a demon, he was against animal cruelty, so much that he collected all the spellbooks he could get his hands on and changed the items needed to summon him. 

Damian had changed his animal sacrifices to using herbs and other organic lifes to summon him, placing these new changes back to where he found them, only for those stupid mortals to ignore them and make their own versions of his summoning spell or the old one they learned from their mentors.

Ignoring the set of instructions was the greatest taboo among cultists, something even demons learned about. All those years of cultist training wasted. Changing the script meant an incomplete summoning, a defective portal for any demon to use. If a demon tried to traverse through them, they could remain stuck in the warp and stop existing. However, if they did manage to get by, the summoning would be void since the cultists were not using the revamped version to summon the demon. In other words, the cultists were at the mercy of the demon they had chosen to summon. 

“You know how mortals are, believing that they’re the best at something despite knowing little to nothing about said thing.” Bruce reminded, turning another page, hearing Damian huff in annoyance. “Why not make an example of them?”

With that simple phrase, Damian appeared before the mortals that dared to think they knew what it took to summon a demon like himself. Earraping chants filled his head, Damian wishing they would stop their ununified screeching.

Traversing through his own portal, Damian appeared before the stupid mortals, feeling his blood boil upon seeing the animal corpses scattered around the room, heads with eyes wide open, stomachs ripped open as organs spilled from them. Carcasses of goats and cows pried open and hung as their blood dripped to the containers below them, the blood dripping out of it and pooling onto the floor.

Damian let out a low growl, scanning the room as the chant came to a trailing halt. His eyes finally laid on the old altar, decorated in animal organs, the blood being absorbed by the stone table and dripping onto the floor, a red river flowing down the crossing. But that wasn’t what grabbed his attention.

It was the girl that laid at the table, her hands and ankles bound to the disgusting moldy furniture, looking at him with hazy eyes.

How old was she? Why was she so thin and frail? Why isn’t she- 

Damian’s breath came to an abrupt halt. 

There, stretched across her abdomen was a vile gash, running diagonally across her body. Blood oozed from her deep gash, the skin around it jagged and already festering, meaning that if he didn’t start healing her now, her infection would grow even worse.

She could die a pointless life.

“Oh Great Spawn of-”

“Silence.” Damian cuts off, wanting to let out a grin when the short stature woman promptly shut up, her hands trembling as he made his way towards her. “Let me tell you something.”

Damian loomed over the woman, a grin unraveling itself as her eyes widened in terror as flames erupted all around the old building and on the people present, screams singing through the smoky air.

“Did you really think a demon would let themselves be controlled by a mortal? Nonetheless by one who disregarded the new changes? How naive.” With a snap of his fingers, the woman went ablaze, Damian ignoring her cries. He walked up to the girl, freed her and scooped her up into his arms. With a swish of his tail, he reopened his portal.

Just as he stepped into the portal, a hand tried to grab him. He quickly turned around and kicked the small woman away, barely hearing her final words as he watched her breathe her last breath.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… Marinette.”

------

Bruce didn’t know what to say. 

“I’m keeping her.” Damian said sternly, leaving no room for debate. “She’s under my care, whether you like it or not.”

It didn’t take long for Damian to come back from wherever it was he had gone. But seeing him come back with an injured child in his arms -who’s time was slowly coming to an end- was not something Bruce would ever think of seeing one day.

The scent of her blood quickly drew attention, Tim appearing in the room seconds after Damian’s arrival while Jason walked into the common room minutes later.

“She’s a mortal.” Tim stated, walking up to the shallow breathing girl, his claws itching to analyze her. It wasn’t everyday that a mortal came to the Underworld. “She’s not going to last here in that condition.” Tim watched as the girl whimpered and stirred in Damian’s arms, Tim knowing she would die in a few moments if Damian didn’t act fast.

“Might as well grant her a single wish before we-” Jason started, his tails low and swaying eagerly near the floor.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on her, Todd.” Damian growled, his tail quickly wrapping around his katana.

Why did Jason have to drop by today? 

“What if I don’t give a shit about your warning?” Jason said with a shit-eating grin, casually pulling out his guns from their holsters. 

Damian let out an even deeper growl, his wings flaring in warning. Jason grinned as he let his own wings flare in response, Damian hating that they easily rivaled his own.

While bare boned and thin, the remains of Jason’s wings were twice the size of Damian’s, a reminder from Jason that he didn’t care about whether Damian was Bruce’s son or not. Jason never saw him as a threat. He would gladly challenge him anytime.

“Boys.” Bruce spoke, rising from his chair, his book long forgotten. “Enough.”

“Let the Spawn be.” Tim proposed, watching lazily as the two continued their stand off. “If he fails to fix that girl, then you can duel him for the girl’s soul.”

“Hmm...fair enough.” Jason said, releasing his guns from his grasp, only for his two tails to catch them. “I’ll be awaiting your failure, Demon Spawn.”

With that, Jason walked away, allowing Damian to lower his wings, making them settle against his back.

“You only have a few more minutes before she-”

“I don’t need you to remind me, Drake.” Damian huffed, taking Marinette to his private quarters, Goliath purring upon seeing him. “Not now Goliath.” He softly said, petting the creature with his tail, placing Marinette onto his bed.

He frowned upon seeing the festered skin, the skin clumping in attempts to heal itself.

“Hope you make it through.”

------

Cold. 

No…

Warm…

Dark… 

It was very dark.

Marinette let out a shuddering breath as she attempted to breath, feeling something warm against her skin as her body trembled in agony as she tried to exhale.

Was she saved?

Who would save her?

No… she had to be dead.

Death sounded nicer than being alive.

“Seems like you’re awake.” A soothing voice said, Marinette quickly recognizing it. 

It was the being from the ceremony. Where was he?

Marinette attempted to speak, but only air came out of her.

“Here, drink this.”

Marinette felt as her head was lifted, a cup of some sort, brought to her lips. But as soon as the iron hit her nose, she tightened her lips into a thin line. 

“You need to drink this if you want to get better.” 

When Damian saw that the frail girl continued to struggle, he simply pried her mouth open with a spell and forced her to drink the blood, watching as the girl sputtered to breath, going into a coughing fit. 

Now it was up to her if she wanted to live or not. He already did his part. 

“Why would you- oh.” Marinette surprised herself with her slight outburst.

She would speak without struggling, but she still couldn’t see. Bringing her hands to her face, she could feel the blindfold over her eyes. That would explain why everything was dark.

“Let me help you.”

Marinette flinched harshly as light broke through her dark view, having to blink rapidly to adjust to her surroundings. 

Velvet, creams and shades of black adorned the room. Simple, yet an elegant choice of colors. 

“What happened to the-“

“They’re dead.” Damian said, Marinette feeling the bed sink at the edge to where her feet were. “It’s the price they had to pay.”

He watched as Marinette frowned, attempting to sit up, wincing as she did so. 

How did she forget about her scar? 

He watched as Marinette traced her fingers over where the gash was once, now replaced by a lighter patch of skin. The scar had a golden lining, Damian watching her confused expression as she tried to piece together the different textures of her body. 

“Will this stay like this?” Marinette asked, finally deciding to look at the being that had cared for her.

“It will.” The being responded, Marinette humming in return. “Is there a problem with it?”

“Won’t-Won’t others find it odd that my wound healed this way?”

“No one else will see it, and if they do,” Damian looked at her with narrow eyes. “They’ll know not to approach you without caution.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Golden lining around wounds and golden scars mark a person under Wayne's care or a Wayne themselves. Every demon in the Underworld knows best to avoid us and since you are under my care, they would know to not harm a single hair on you.”

“Wayne? Demons? Underworld?”

“I suppose it’s time for me to introduce myself to you.” The being said, Marinette watching as they walked up to her side, noticing their tail hanging above the ground and the wings that peered from behind them, “I’m Damian of the Wayne Manor, Damian Wayne for short.”

“Damian.” Marinette repeated, watching as his eyes softened. “Are… are you a de-”

“A demon? Yes. I’m the one that your cult tried to summon.”

“I wasn’t part of that cult.” Marinette corrected, turning her head away from Damian. “I was just the human sacrifice they decided to use that time.” Marinette dug her nails into her arms as she recalled her mother’s final words to her. 

Damian wondered if he should tell her about what her mother told him before she was burned alive.

Should he tell her that her mother apologized for sacrificing her own daughter?

That she realized that what she did was the biggest regret of her life?

Should he tell her that her mother cried as she watched her daughter be taken away from her?

That she tried to grab a hold of him while he stepped into the portal, in a desperate attempt to die alongside her daughter?

He should probably keep that to himself.

“I see.” Damian said, walking towards the doorway. “By the way, how old are you?”

“11.” Marinette watched as Damian took that information, a hum escaping him.

I see. I will be back later to check on you.”

“Thank you, Damian.” He heard Marinette say. 

“There’s no need to thank me.” Damian turned around, Marinette seeing a small smile on his lips. “I already told you, you’re under my protection. I will always be by your side.”

After all, she still had a whole life span ahead of her. 11 was no age to go ahead and die.

-------

Damian did come back later that day, fussing over her when he learned that she had tried to get up and managed to before she felt dizzy and had to lie back down.

Marinette soon regretted that, Damian now staying in the room with her, watching her every movement. He would also help to bathe her with a cloth and water and gave her clothing to wear.

The next few days were spent in comfort, Marinette and Damian getting to know one another and Marinette learning about the other residents of the Wayne Manor.

Damian learned that Marinette was a village girl, running a bakery alongside her parents until her father died during the Grand Plague. Falling into despair, Marinette’s mother seeked comfort in the cultists.

He also learned of her love for vegetation and botany. (He managed to convince his father to start a greenhouse in one of the manor’s rooms, quickly showing Marinette once it was done.)

Marinette learned to never speak fondly of Jason, as it got Damian into a bad mood and usually resulted in Damian chasing Jason around the manor for even looking at his ward.

“Todd, one day I will get my hands on you and stick a-”

“Woah there! Not in front of the child!” Jason would scandalize, covering Marinette’s ears. She would then be dragged away and carried by Jason, Damian hot on his heels.

Tim… Tim was just there, sometimes studying her from afar whenever she would join Damian into the manor library. If it wasn’t that, it was Tim teaching her the history of the Underworld, which then trailed to Tim and Damian debating on the topic of which Wayne actually caused the fall of a place called Byzantine. (It was Bruce. He didn’t mean for it to happen.)

Marinette didn’t meet Richard until a month later, accidentally running into him as she left her study that was next to the newly implemented greenhouse. 

“Holy shit.” Where the first words that came out the man’s mouth, Marinette blushing as he soon cupped her face in his hands. “Tim wasn’t kidding when he said it was genetic.”

-------

Marinette hummed as she tended to her roses, trimming off some black ones to replace the dying ones inside the manor. 

It’s been years since Marinette had left the mortal realm, 20 years to be exact, and yet… she remained 11. Or rather, looked 11 despite being 15 years of age. 

When she had asked Damian why she wasn’t aging, he replied that demon blood had different side effects from bloodline to bloodline. It also depended on the soul of the individual who drank it.

The Wayne blood was always known for its quick recovery abilities, but once Marinette drank it, it morphed into having longevity abilities alongside its healing ones. And ever since other demons heard of this, they’ve countlessly tried to kidnap the mortal girl, waging war against the Waynes.

Of course, there have been a few close calls, but the Waynes were victorious in each battle.

“How are you doing?” Damian asked, Marinette showing him her arm, golden lines wrapped around her arm. Damian held in a growl upon seeing the scar, regretting not being able to get to Mari sooner than he thought in their latest attack. 

“Better I suppose.”

“I should’ve been by your side when it happened.” Damian said as he inspected her arm, a scowl forming as he looked at it.

“Dad, I’m fine.” Marinette stated, yanking her arm away. “You know you couldn’t have known that Joker had me where he had me.”

Marinette remembered the first time she accidentally called Damian ‘Dad’. It was a little over a year since she remained at the manor. Damian had just gotten her a hellhound as a gift. Out of gratitude, she had said ‘thank you Dad’ and from there never heard the end of it, Jason and Dick always reminding her of the incident whenever they could. It was also then that she kept calling him that. 

It just felt… right.

“I know, but still.” Damian pulled her close into a hug. “I should’ve been there to protect you.” Marinette hugged him back, knowing why he was so hung up on the guilt. 

While they were demons, it didn’t mean they were void of emotions. 

She still remembered the way he looked when he had finally reached her, his form unrecognizable if it weren’t for the fact that Grandpa Bruce was right behind him. 

Getting tired of the moment, Marinette pushed herself away from Damian. 

“By the way Dad, didn’t you promise me that I’d get to take Goliath for some fresh air?”

“I-”

“You. Promised.” Marinette enunciated, placing her hands on her hips, hiding her smirk when Damian huffed.

“Fine. But I’m coming as well.” Marinette grinned, throwing her arms in the air.

“Alright! Goliath! Did you hear that?” Upon being called, Goliath came down from where he was resting, licking Marinette, a set of giggles echoing within the garden. “We’re going for a walk!” At this, Titus came into the garden, huffing as he sat in front of Marinette. “You’re invited as well Titus.” At this, the hellhound let out a huff, but he couldn’t hide the excitement. His tail was also wagging with glee. 

“Come on then, let’s get going.” Damian instructed, already leaving the room. “Wouldn’t want to come late for dinner. Alfred said he was making something special for tonight’s dinner. Something called a quiche.”

She quickly skipped to catch up, Goliath and Titus right behind her. 

How could she have forgotten? Today marks the day she was welcomed into the manor. 

20 years since the day her father brought her and welcomed her with open arms.

20 happy years with her beloved family. 

While she did miss the mortal realm, she wouldn’t go there if she had the chance. This was her home, and she loved it dearly.