[Fic] Hyacinth

[jayeinacross]

Progress: Complete
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Major character death, violence, blood.
Word count: c.1800
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
A/N: Based on the Greek myth of Apollo and Hyacinthus. Set it some AU where the Bruce is a sorcerer king and the boys are sorcerer princes. Please comment and tell me what you think! Edit: Fixed the warnings.
Also posted on tumblr here.

***

Jealous that Hyacinthus preferred Apollo, when Hyacinthus ran to catch the discus, Zephyrus changed the winds, and the discus struck Hyacinthus and killed him. Apollo did not allow Hades to claim Hyacinthus, but instead made the hyacinth flower from his spilled blood.

***

The lavish celebrations that the king of Gotham hold are even more extravagant that those of King Oliver’s of Star City - though not for lack of trying on Oliver’s part. The halls glow with golden light, and the ladies of the court titter when flowers fall from the high ceilings and gasp when a huge winged creature is made out of flames.

The sorcerer king of Gotham and his sons are renowned for their skills, even in the distant kingdoms of Themyscira and New Krypton.

And though King Bruce does enjoy being able to outdo King Oliver, their sorcery is not only simple tricks. It is used for something much more important than that.

Together, Bruce and his sons keep their kingdom safe.

Bruce learned from the best, and so do his sons. Ra’s al Ghul is notorious for his power, but not in the same way the Gotham king and princes are. They are the rulers and protectors of the kingdom, but Ra’s is an outsider who only trains the princes because he admires what they and their father do.

Ra’s is a dangerous man. Very dangerous. And it is lucky that he admires and not abhors what they do.

Still, under his tutelage, the princes are learning well. Even though Damian’s attitude is still sour, Dick’s attention span is too short, Jason swears too much, and Tim is too easily distracted by Jason’s flirting...they are still exceptional students.

Ra’s has a strange fascination with Prince Timothy. None of Tim’s family like this. Jason in particular.

Nobody has missed the way that Tim and Jason act around each other. Not one citizen of Gotham who has ever seen them in the same room as both of them at the same time has missed the way that no matter who they are talking to or what they are doing, their eyes will soon drift back to the other man. Nobody who has ever watched them walk beside each other has missed how often their hands will brush.

Ra’s certainly hasn’t missed it. But that has not stopped him from hinting subtly that he would like Tim for himself, or from outright suggesting that he be his...companion. Each time, one of Tim’s siblings, or his father, have been nearby and dragged Tim away from the man, but not before Tim rejected him firmly. Even so, Ra’s keeps trying.

Because, really. Of all Bruce’s princes, all except Damian - Ra’s own grandson - are adopted. Timothy is a noble, but Grayson and Todd are nothing more than street rats, taken in by the king because of pity.

Tim would disagree. He doesn’t give a damn about his noble heritage, or Dick and Jason’s lack of one. His own parents were less than caring, but this family is the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Jason is the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Tim has not had the lifelong training that Damian has, nor Dick’s natural talent, or Jason’s incredible endurance. But he is still determined to work hard enough that he can be as good as his brothers. And he does.

Damian takes Tim’s proffered hand and hauls himself to his feet. "You have improved," Damian grudgingly admits, and Ra’s nods approvingly. Tim can’t keep the grin off his face. His eyes flicker to the side and he catches Jason smiling proudly at him, which only makes Tim’s smile brighter.

"I believe that we can finish training for today," Ra’s says smoothly, standing up. "Well done, Timothy."

"At least he didn’t proposition you today," Dick mutters to Tim before smiling broadly and clapping him on the shoulder. "You were good today, little brother. Really good."

"Damn right," Jason growls, wrapping his arms around Tim’s waist from behind and kissing his neck.

"Please move your displays of affection someplace private," Damian snarks, and Tim blushes in response.

"Jason," Tim murmurs, and Jason just chuckles.

"Alright, little demon." Letting go of Tim’s waist, he grabs his hand instead and starts tugging Tim towards the walkway. "We’re going. I’ve got something to show you, Babybird."

Tim hears Damian ask Dick for another practice round before Jason has dragged him too far away to hear any more. Tim raises an eyebrow. "Something to show me?"

"Always so suspicious, love. I really do have something to show you."

Jason takes Tim to the secluded back corner of the garden where they like to sit together, tend to the plants, and simply talk.

"Look." Jason waves a hand, his eyes glow a deep red, and thin vines move up the stone wall, forming a small depiction of a slender man sitting cross-legged in a garden, surrounded by plants. Tim.

"Jason," Tim whispers. He presses his fingertips to the stone, biting his lip in concentration, then his own eyes flare green before the colour fades back to dark blue. More vines creep across the wall, and a miniature Jason joins the vine-Tim in the garden, kneeling beside vine-Tim and pressing a kiss into his hair.

Real-Jason mimics the action, then moves to Tim’s lips, their eyes drifting shut and fingers tangling.

When they part, Tim tilts his head a little. He always looks so...bemused, like he doesn’t really believe that it has really happened, that Jason loves him. Tim is always embarrassed when people point it out, but Jason finds it endearing.

Together, they set wards around their little garden. This place is theirs to take care of. They shield the weaker plants so the heavy rain they’ve been getting won’t tear down the leaves and blossoms. They give the flowers that are lagging behind a little boost so they’ll bloom with the others.

Tim’s laughter is the most beautiful sound in the world, and in this garden, it’s not only Jason who seems to gravitate towards it. Every vine and flower and branch thrive on that sound.

Jason turns just in time to see the stone falling. Just in time to see one last sweet smile before Tim’s eyes roll up and he crumples, the only noise the sharp crack and thud of the rock.

Kneeling beside Tim’s still body, Jason cradles his head in one arm and points to the sky with the other, sending red, green and gold sparks up into the air. An emergency signal. His brothers and father will be here soon. But it’s already too late.

Dick comes running, Damian right behind him.

Too late.

Bruce is there a half-minute after.

Too late.

The first thing Bruce sees is the blood. Spots on the stone wall, where the vines twist into the tiny mural of Tim and Jason. Slicking the grass and soaking into the soil. Staining Jason’s face and hands.

Jason won’t look at any of them. Won’t let go of Tim.

"Jay," Dick murmurs, reaching for his brother, but he pulls back when Jason snarls at him.

"Is he...?" At Bruce’s solemn nod of confirmation, Damian turns his face into Dick’s side. Dick holds Damian against himself, smoothing down his hair and trying not to break down like Jason.

Bruce kneels beside Jason, puts a hand on his arm. Jason shrugs it off harshly, but Bruce only puts it back, holding Jason’s arm.

"Jason."

"Go away," Jason hisses through clenched teeth.

"Let go of Tim," Bruce says gently, pulling Jason towards him. Though Jason fights at first, Bruce keeps firm, and eventually Jason gives in, allowing Bruce to pull him into his arms.

Jason’s shaking so hard and he’s barely coherent that Bruce only hears a few choked words, but over and over; "Please," and "sorry," and "love," and "Tim". In the end, Bruce has to carry him away, holding his sobbing son in his arms like a child.

At Jason’s adamant insistence, they leave Tim where he fell, in front of the vine-mural wall, and that is where they say their goodbyes.

Dick brushes the thick, blood-wet hair off his face and closes his blank eyes. Whispers to him. "Little brother. I love you." Kisses his forehead. His lips come away spotted with red.

"Drake. Timothy..." Damian kneels stiffly in the dirt. He touches Tim’s cold hand. "You. Weren’t supposed to leave us like this."

Bruce touches Tim’s cheek, the Wayne insignia on his chest, closes his own eyes, and whispers. "Son."

It is explained away as an accident; the near-constant rain of late had loosened some stones in the old wall, and the plants growing up and in between had weakened it. A mere accident. But Jason knows better.

He’d heard the faint footsteps. He’d seen a glimpse of green and gold silk flapping in the wind. He’d seen the flash of pale, bony hand.

There is no evidence. But Jason knows it was Ra’s. His family believes him, and that’s all that matters. That’s all he needs. Ra’s might be the more powerful sorcerer they know, capable of striking down Jason and the rest of his family like he struck down Tim, but Jason won’t let him go until he’s proven to everyone that he is guilty.

Jason won’t let them hold the traditional funeral ceremony. He won’t stand and watch as Tim’s body, dressed in elaborate robes that Tim hated, is incinerated with magic flames, turned into smoke to drift away and dissipate.

He casts a spell to keep everyone out of the garden until he has finished, conjures a basin of water and cleans the blood off Tim’s body. The stains he can’t get rid of by hand he magics away, until Tim is clean and neat again, the way he liked to be.

In their favourite place, their place. It was theirs together. And that is where Tim will stay.

The spell takes hours. Jason needs it to be perfect, like Tim.

He remembers the green of the plants that Tim loved, the green of his magic. Remembers the way his laugh sounded like the peal of a bell. Remembers the red of his blood, spilling over Jason’s hands, seeping into the soil of their garden.

When the spell to keep the others out has faded, Bruce and Dick and Damian venture in to check on Jason, and they’re not sure what to make of the sight that greets them.

The sight of Jason cupping a long-stemmed flower in the soil, stroking petals dyed a deep scarlet.