Truth, Unmasked

Part 1

It was an usually warm and dry winter, and Bruce Wayne had ensconced himself in the third-floor sitting room to read the newspaper. He'd chosen this room because it was so little-used that it was unlikely his sons' fighting would reach him here. The room was not remote enough to keep out the smell of Alfred's freshly-made hot chocolate, however, the smell bringing to mind childhood memories of winters with his parents.

Neither was it enough to keep out the sound of his children's bickering, unfortunately.

"Use a different mug, gremlin! That one's mine!"

"Yours?! I don't see your name on it."

"Give it back, demon-spawn!"

Bruce Wayne loved his children, but sometimes he wished they were a little more quiet.

"Well I took it first, so there!"

"I want that mug! I always drink from that mug!"

"Shut up, Drake! You can drink from a bowl like the dog that you are."

"You piece of sh—"

"ENOUGH!!" Bruce Wayne roared, loud enough that the (pet) turkey at his feet squawked in terror and fled the room. The veins in his temple pulsed dangerously as he stormed out of the room and into the kitchen two floors down. "Both of you—use a different mug or don't drink at all!"

He snatched the mug in question from Damian's hands, holding it high above his head when Damian tried to grab it back. "Any more fighting, and neither of you are getting Alfred's hot chocolate," he warned.

He glowered at his two sons until they sulked off to grab different mugs each.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples. He supposed it was a small miracle his sons were still willing to listen to him, at least on this one occasion. Duke, who had been quietly watching the chaos from the kitchen door, piped up. "Can I use that mug, B—?"

"No." Bruce replaced the mug in its cabinet, making sure to put it at the back of the highest shelf where his sons would not look. Hopefully that would prevent any further arguments for a long, long time. "Where's Melody?"

"She went for a ride a quarter of an hour ago," Alfred said. He stood protectively beside the stove, making sure that none of the chaos touched the hot chocolate he had taken such pains to brew. "Cocoa, Master Bruce?"

Bruce accepted the offer with a nod. "A ride?"

"On the horse."

"I see. And you let her go? Alone?"

"She's old enough, Master Bruce, and it's only around the estate."

"But what if she falls, or gets hurt..."

"If she were to get hurt without our knowing, then it would be proof that the extensive security system and equestrian lessons were poor investments."

Bruce accepted this with a small grumble as he took the chocolate-filled mug Alfred handed to him. He loved all his children, but he worried for his youngest, Melody, the most. Not that she was so reckless or naïve that she needed constant protection; but there were many who would not hesitate to harm a Wayne, and Melody lacked the training that her siblings had received.

He wandered into the living room, almost tripping over Titus as he went. "Looks a bit grey," he remarked, glancing out the window as he settled onto the sofa. "Maybe we could get snow before Christmas, after all." Though the air outside was freezing it was still a warmer and drier winter than they were used to.

Titus suddenly leaped to his feet, barking. Bruce almost spilled his mug.

"Calm down, boy," he said. "What..."