NO CELESTIAL / dick grayson

eight, the daughter

FOR THE FIRST sixteen years of her life, Remiel Chen was merely Remiel. Seraphina had also given her a Chinese name, 睿珉, Ruimin, but no one called her that outside of the woman. Remiel, the adopted daughter of Seraphina al Ghul. That was all she was. Not worthy to hold the al Ghul name, yet not having her own either. She hadn't known her real surname. She hadn't known her biological family, and she'd never bothered finding them either.

If they abandoned her, it meant they didn't want her, and then they didn't deserve them.

The truth was that as she grew older, Seraphina had narrowed down the potential candidates for her family. And if she ever wanted to choose, the evidence was all there for the taking. But she never bothered.

The name Chen had only been chosen shortly before she'd left for Gotham. And then Remiel finally had a last name.

Chen was one of the most common last names in China. 陳, the fifth most common Chinese surname, with almost seventy million people by that name in the country alone. Simply speaking, the statistics of it being her real surname was high. And with it being such a common surname, anyone who attempted to futilely hunt down her past through her name would be led on a wild goose chase.

It seemed to fit. So she kept on using it, even after she'd left Gotham. Remiel Chen. She thought it had a nice ring to it. And it was finally something she had decided, even though the name had originally been suggested so that it would fit well with a flimsy cover story. Just the smallest thing she had control over in her life.

And the truth was that, for many years, Remiel Chen had envied Damian. She'd never held any ill will against him, but she'd always been jealous. Damian. He could choose to be both an al Ghul and both a Wayne. Both sides were happy to take him. Both sides were willing to take over his rearing and do their best to lead him down the track they thought was right. He had everywhere to belong to, she had nothing at all. The same people who saw him as a future heir treated her like an outcast. Above them, but not one of the people at the top either. An anomaly.

"He said he had news about my mother."

But at the same time, all that smoothness with growing up made Remiel wonder if, despite all the apparent intelligence and cunning, Damian was just a little too gullible.

"And you believed him?"

"No," he looked baffled that she'd even suggest such a thing, "but I had to give it a try."

"You could have told us."

"He said that if I brought any of you with me, he wouldn't hesitate to kill Mother. I'm not taking the chance."

"So you decided to go to a known League base by yourself? Straight into an ambush?"

"I could handle myself," he argued, arms crossed before his chest.

"One of you against all of them? I thought you were better than this, Damian. You're letting feelings and sentiments destroy your rationality. It's extremely disappointing and your mother would not be pleased to hear it. Use your brain, Damian."

"I took Deathstroke's eye out, almost killed him, I can handle—"

"You and I both know that there is strength in numbers. We are good, yes, but even then there is a limit to how many people we can take on at once, even if they're all extremely badly trained. Do not make excuses for your idiocy."

Damian fell silent for a moment, and then quietly, he muttered, "You're talking like Mother."

Of course Remiel was. She was purposefully emulating Talia al Ghul. It was the best way to make Damian listen. She didn't say anything in response to that, didn't admit it or deny it, simply stood there before his bed, arms crossed, staring down at him.