[Edited July 10, 2022]

[Just out of curiosity, I want to know what country you guys are from. Can y'all comment here and tell me where y'all are from? I was looking through my demographics and saw that my readers came from all over the globe. Hello to those few from Khazakstan! I was surprised to see that. A majority of y'all are American, but I knew that already. Hello and welcome to everyone regardless of what country you live in! I'm glad you're here! Now, onto the chapter!]

  Needless to say, the brothers had been shocked to find out that Nico couldn't read, as they had all known how to read for most of their lives. Well, Dick couldn't read English for a while but that was different. What was the bigger surprise, the centaur death machine or learning that Nico was illiterate-- it was hard to say. The glitter assault left them all standing in shock for several seconds, listening to Damian spit and curse.

"That stupid, illiterate, piece of... " Damian said when he had gotten a majority of the glitter out of his mouth. Before he could finish his undoubtedly vulgar sentence, however, Jason had pinned him to the wall, getting right in his face.

"What is your problem? What was all that about?" Jason let go, knowing that he had the smaller boy's full attention.

"He lied," Damian replied simply, wiping glitter off his face with the back of his sleeve.

"So? You don't get to humiliate people over something so stupid. He clearly didn't want us to know that!" 

"Seriously, Damian. That was too far." Dick's expression was stern and he was making no attempt to rid himself of the glitter. Damian seemed to realize just how badly he must have messed up if Grayson was even angry with him.

"I wasn't trying to humiliate him," Damian growled.

"Then what were you trying to do? Huh? You called him out in front of all of us and didn't expect him to get embarrassed?" Jason wasn't having any of the youngest's excuses.

"How did you even know he couldn't read? He never told us that." Tim cut in.

"I saw it in his file, from the social worker's office. He has dyslexia and has scored pretty low in Language Arts every year he had formal schooling, which wasn't as often as you would expect." Damian laid out the facts as if this knowledge would make them overlook that he was further incriminating himself.

"You read his file?" Dick seemed appalled and Damian frowned.

"You didn't?"

"No! It's none of our business what's in his file!" Dick retorted. His voice was cold like an undertow that threatened to drown Damian at any moment.

"He's joining this family. That makes it our business." Damian argued.

"You're right!" Dick said, in a way that told them he didn't think Damian was right at all. "He is joining this family. That affords him the right to the same amount of privacy the rest of us get. What you just did isolated him from the rest of us. That isn't what families do." Dick stormed off down the hall and into his room. He shut the door with a decisive click. Damian had never seen him so disappointed in anyone before and he felt uncomfortable that all of that emotion was focused on him.

"That's what my family would do." He murmured, mostly to himself. He genuinely couldn't understand why what he had done had been such a problem. The League of Shadows wouldn't have even approached Nico without having done a thorough background check on him first. Why was it wrong to compile information on the people you were living with? He would have expected the others to do the same, though that didn't seem to be the case. They all seemed equally as horrified by what he had done. Was he really in the wrong here?

"Yeah? Well, you aren't with Talia anymore and you'd do well to remember that. Family doesn't spy on family here." Jason snarled before he too retreated. Tim gave him a once-over with a critical eye before he also retreated to his room. Damian couldn't even muster up the energy to be angry or defend himself. This was the second time in a week he'd disappointed them concerning how he interacted with Nico. He was the problem.

++Damian++

Looking back on it, perhaps he had been too harsh. He certainly hadn't realized how much it would hurt Nico-- it never crossed his mind that it might be offensive. Then he wondered why he cared. The old Damian wouldn't have cared about whether or not he hurt someone's feelings. Nico couldn't read, at least not proficiently, that was the cold hard truth. Why should he feel guilty for telling the truth? Those thoughts made this current Damian uncomfortable. That was his mother's logic seeping though.

Damian scowled at himself as he got ready for bed, carefully slipping off the glittery garments, he should be able to properly control his emotions. He was an assassin after all. His mind kept drifting to the disappointed face of his mother when he did something she was displeased with. He imagined that she wouldn't be too proud of him right now either. She'd be disappointed for not defending himself to Jason-- not for saying what he did. She would have agreed with his statement. Talia didn't stand for weakness or disability and would not show Nico any mercy. He didn't want to be like that. Damian wasn't proud of his heritage like he had been once. He was strong, yes, but he was also cold.

When he woke the next morning, he still felt like a jerk. Calling the older boy out on his inability to read had been a low blow. He could tell that it bothered Nico too, the boy had every right to be angry with him. Jason had been right, he had deserved the glitter in the mouth. 

Damian figured that Nico and the others would forgive him if he apologized and tried to make it up to him. He didn't want to be mean-- to cause a rift between himself and yet another sibling. He was going to end up isolating himself if he didn't make a real effort to connect with the other boys. Maybe he still had a chance with Nico if he could make the other boy understand that he was sorry. He had to fix this.

The reformed assassin showered, taking a little longer than usual as he thought about how to get back in his sibling's good graces. He stood there in the warm water just thinking. The water only served to make him sleepy again so he turned down the temperature. Maybe he could help him to read and understand other intellectual topics. Nico was cunning and sly, he was street smart, but he lacked a significant amount of book knowledge. If he ever got into the vigilante gig, he would be far behind.

He dressed in jeans, a dark long-sleeved shirt, and his red hood-less jacket. He headed down the stairs, not realizing that it was only 6 AM. He trudged into the dining room only to find it empty. Deciding that it was pointless to just wait there for an hour, he headed into the room where he pictured him teaching Nico, the library. He might try to set it up for a session or get some ideas on a curriculum. When he got there, he was surprised to see Nico already there. He was fiddling with the old projector that had been out of commission for a while now. He was about to tell him that it didn't work when Nico turned the machine on. To Damian's surprise, the film appeared on the wall opposite the machine.

Nico messed with a couple of other buttons and the film started to play. It was some man in a lab coat mixing chemicals in beakers, why the Wayne manor had anything of the kind baffled Damian. Nico watched the film for a while, looking satisfied. He then shut the film off, putting it away neatly in a protective case.

It was at this point that Damian found his voice, "How did you get that to run?"

Nico's eyes shot towards him, looking cornered. His body tensed as though he had been caught red-handed. He relaxed only slightly when he saw that it was Damian. Though his eyes remained guarded, his body relaxed and he continued to tidy up. Damian couldn't blame the boy for being cautious around him. He had never given Nico a reason to trust him. It hurt, but it was what he deserved.

"I straightened a couple of gears and cleaned it up a bit. It is in pretty good shape considering its age..." Nico trailed off. Damian wondered what he was thinking about but decided not to ask. Nico would share if he wanted to.

"Sure... look, Nico. I'm sorry. To make up for my bigoted attitude, I would like to offer to teach you in the subjects that I can." Damian proposed. Nico looked at him with interest. He seemed to be judging if he was making fun of him. Deciding that he wasn't, Nico nodded gratefully.

"It isn't that I don't know how to read... I'm dyslexic. I literally can't read." 

"I know. I read your file." Nico immediately looked angry again and Damian knew the others had been right. Reading his file had been a poor decision.

"You--" Nico gritted his teeth and turned back to the machine.

"It was dumb and I shouldn't have done it, I know. If I could undo it, I would." Damian apologized. It was true, he realized. He wished he had never seen the file on Bruce's desk and he wished even more that he had thought better than to open it.

"Too late for that, now." Nico returned. His voice wasn't emotional, as Damian would have expected it to be. It was calm and controlled. Too controlled. Too late Damian realized that it was a false calm-- one that hid the true extent of the other boy's anger.

"I know. And you have every right to be angry." Damian crossed his arms and looked anywhere except at Nico. It killed him that this was what he deserved. If Nico didn't forgive him, Damian would just have to accept it and he didn't know how he was supposed to live with that.

"Do I?" Damian pursed his lips, unwilling to continue if Nico wasn't in the mood to listen to what he had to say. It wouldn't do either of them any good to try and work things out if they were just going to let their emotions get in the way.

"You know, Damian. I am angry." Nico pulled the roll of film off the gears gently. "I don't understand why you would do something like that. I don't understand why you would invade my privacy and then go and humiliate me in front of the others. I don't get it."

"I'm sorry," Damian replied because he was and because there was nothing he could say to justify what he had done. 

"Do you have something against me that I don't know about?" Nico closed the film tin and moved deeper into the library to put it away. Damian didn't follow him.

"No. You didn't do anything. I was just being a jerk." Damian conceded. Nico came back down the aisle and stared at him appraisingly. 

"And you aren't anymore?" 

"I'm trying to fix this." Damian shifted his weight uncomfortably, " I messed up. Badly. I'm asking you to let me try and make it up to you." The other boy considered his request for a heavy moment.

"And how are you planning on doing that?" 

"My offer to read to you still stands. Or I can try and help you set up accommodations? Whatever you need." Damian offered. It was the least he could do.

"You can read to me. Bruce and Alfred are going to be looking into accommodations so I should be fine on that end." Nico said eventually.

"Ok, I understand. Do you wish to start now?" Damian asked, gesturing towards the sofa and the coffee table. Nico looked at him in surprise.

"Might as well."  

That was how the two boys got pulled into studying some of the classics. Damian had been brought up on the classics by his mother since he was little. It was one of the things he knew inside and out. He decided to start with 20,0000 Leagues Under the Sea. It was a tale full of adventures and futuristic themes, many of which mankind has achieved since the publication of the novel. [Damian has a skewed idea of fun, remember.]

Since Nico couldn't read, Damian elected to read it aloud to him. Both boys caught themselves being dragged into the story and they read much further than they had first intended. Nico loved the thought of an adventure though he wasn't too keen about it being under the water, someplace he could never go. Damian got animated as he read the story aloud, he made his voice change as he read, adding to the overall effect of the scenes. Nico was hooked on every word, he had never read/listened to a book before, and he enjoyed it. Having someone read it for him made it seem so much more exciting. Not that he had anything to compare it to except for Annabeth occasionally reading aloud an excerpt from an architecture book.

The boys only realized that time was passing when they heard footsteps coming from the floors above them. At that point, Damian put the book down and told Nico that they could continue later. Nico agreed with an expression that Damian would almost describe as happy. Maybe content? On the way to breakfast, the two boys talked about the story until they reached the dining room. Everyone else seemed surprised to see the two talking after what was said the night before. Maybe Dick had finally gotten through to Damian. The two boys even sat next to each other at the table. No one dared mention it, thinking that it might break the peace.

++Nico++

Nico ate a fairly decent breakfast that morning. He never ate very much-- not usually being very hungry. He knew that he would need his energy for the exercises he was planning on doing. After he had eaten, he excused himself and headed up to the gym. He had some training to get started. He began with the stretches that he had been taught at camp. After that, he went to the pull-up bar and just started working out. He lost count of how many he did, he just went until he got tired and bored. After that, he went to sit-ups so that he could give his arms a break. He ended up doing about 80 of those, figuring that he would start with that and work his way up. Nico felt weak because other demigods had passed him on the number of reps but he was doing impressively for mortal standards. Well-- considering his condition.

Nico went on for maybe another hour doing random exercises that he had been taught at camp and such. He chose several that he would get rid of and planned a routine in his mind. At the end of his workout, he did some cool-down stretches. He felt good, not any stronger, though he understood that it would take time. As he was leaving, Richard came in and gave him an odd look. Nico was grateful, though, when he didn't comment. Nico crept through the manor, trying not to run into anyone. He made it to his room without someone talking to him. When he got there, he headed towards the trunk at the end of his bed. He was itching to get his sword out, even if it was just to polish it.

It had been a while since he had used it, which was surprising. He had only had one monster encounter since he had moved to Gotham. Nico figured that this city must be bad enough to ward off monsters as well as mortals.

You're right. His father's voice boomed in his mind. Nico fell off his bed in surprise, landing on his funny bone, it was nowhere near funny. Nico growled and he sat back on his bed.

"About what?"

Gotham has a protective field around it from monsters. They can spawn within its borders but they can not enter on their own. Dionysus declared that he could always sense crazy just rolling off that city in waves. He set a shield around the city so that Gotham won't be further corrupted by monsters. Star city, Bludhaven... all of them with vigilantes are protected too. No need in asking the World's Greatest Detective to hunt down the gods. Hades elaborated.

"That's... convenient. How was I pulled here?"

The city doesn't exclude demigods, nor nature spirits. Though most stay away of their own accord. Though, as to why you landed here... call it failure or call it fate-- whichever suits your fancy. Nico couldn't tell if he was joking but he didn't think so. He was also thrown at the British phrasing the god had decided to use.

"Can I let them know who I am, father?" He wanted permission, but he would take acceptance.

I don't approve, but I can't stop you. I believe they will discover you either way. If you plan to go through with it... be smart about it.

"Father?" Nico asked, not understanding quite what his father was telling him.

Make them swear on the Styx. Much more binding of an oath. They cannot discuss it with anyone that doesn't know already until or unless it becomes common knowledge. Understood?

"Yes, father." He felt his father's presence leave and he slumped against the headboard. Feeling frustrated by his father's restriction, Nico grabbed his jacket and headed out into the backyard, not thinking about how strange it was that he didn't come across anyone else. Not even Alfred. He walked into the grove of weeping willows that were growing at the edge of the Wayne Estate, his favorite place. He stopped beneath one of the trees, looking up at the closest branch. It was about 3 feet higher than he was. With his heightened demigod skills, he was able to jump and grab the branch and pull himself up.

Nico sat on a thicker branch a little higher up, with his back against the trunk. He held his skull ring in his hands, beholding the simple human skull design. The eyes were emeralds and the rest was pure stygian iron. If he focused, he could feel how cold and parasitic the ring was. There was a reason that only children of the Underworld could touch the blade. Stygian iron tended to suck the life essence out of anything it had prolonged exposure to. Anything but a Hades child. Probably because they seemed dead to most mortal instruments anyways. The ring probably couldn't tell the difference between him and a corpse. He bet that if he ever passed out, he would be like the drunken fools in mortal folklore that were often buried alive.

The sky, which had been cloudy since he had first got there, suddenly started pouring down rain, with no signs of letting up. Nico, hating water, immediately shadow traveled to his room. He didn't think that it might seem odd that he never went back through the house, but luckily none of the bats were watching the monitors, they were attending to a hostage situation downtown.

Nico lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He got bored very quickly but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't watch tv, which transmitted a signal to a satellite. So did phones or computers, he couldn't read, and he couldn't write. He laid there for what felt like an hour but was only 20 minutes. With so many enjoyable things prohibited to him by nature, it was hard to find things to do outside of camp. Normally, Nico would go raise some dead people and train but that wasn't an option. Plus, he had already worked out that morning and didn't want to overdo it. Nico just wanted to be alone, so he could recover from his dad's insults and regain his composure.

Nico looked around his room, he had yet to do anything to customize it but he didn't have the materials for that. He hadn't been there long enough to make a mess so he didn't have to clean. The only thing in his line of sight that wasn't reading material was a plain black sketchbook. So, naturally, he decided to try his hand at drawing. He laid on his stomach on his bed, trying to think of ideas on what he could draw. He eventually decided that he would draw Bianca as he last saw her: strong, confident, and alive.

[I am no artist. Please do not judge my lack of art knowledge. Pic at the end!]

He started with her torso, slowly working his way up to her arms. Before he could start on her face, however, he moved back down to her legs. He positioned her in a stance that he imagined the other hunters would use. Next, he used colors he found on his desk to finish up the details of her clothes. Finally, he started on the face. This part took him a long time to complete. He wanted to get it exactly right.

As he worked, he never thought about how he had never drawn anything before. He never wondered why he was able to draw so well without practice. He just got absorbed in the thoughts of his sister, and the need to create her likeness. Only when he was finished did he realize how crazy it was for him to do that. It was true that he used to sketch back at the hotel, but he must've forgotten that he could when they dipped him in the lethe. He felt bile rise in his throat as he thought about Alecto tossing him into that damnable river. He lost everything except the memory of his sister.

What else could he do that he couldn't remember? Is that how he could do the splits? That certainly hadn't been in the typical camp curriculum. What about his affinity for memorization? That wasn't a trait he shared with most demigods. What else didn't he know?

[TW: Panic Attack]

Without realizing it, Nico's heart was beating faster and his breaths were becoming more and more shallow. Tears leaked out of his eyes, he was having a panic attack. His thoughts drifted on to the endless possibilities of his former life. Were there close relatives or friends that he had forgotten? Had he been good at a subject in school? Had he been interested in a sport or some other hobby?

Nico pushed his chair back away from his desk, heading almost automatically towards the light grey velvet couch that sat along the far wall, next to the window. He collapsed onto it, now consciously trying to take deeper breaths. He clenched and unclenched his hands together, wringing them as he did so. His hands finally settled on his skull ring and he found himself twisting it. Normally, that would turn it into his sword, but he willed it not to, having learned the trick from Minos. He found the action to be therapeutic, its familiarity calming him immensely.

After an unknown amount of time, his heart slowed down to its normal rate and he could breathe normally again. He sat in his position, curled up on the couch, for some time. He simply did not have the will to attempt to move. He didn't know for how long he stayed in that pose, his tears had long since dried on his face. His only hint that time was passing was the slight darkening of the clouds that he could see through his window. Eventually, he stood up, not out of regained confidence, but because of necessity. He had to use the restroom.

Once he had done his business, he made his way back over to his desk, where he had laid the drawing. He looked at his handiwork, in awe of his hidden talent. If he hadn't been there, he never would have believed he'd been the one to draw it. He silently resolved to try and draw other things some other time. Maybe he could get even better with time.

 He searched his room for a suitable place to hang it. He must have searched for half an hour before he realized that there was a corkboard hanging right in front of his desk. Hiding in plain sight. Criticizing himself, he carefully tore the picture out along the perforated line. He found a box of tacks in his drawer and stood on his desk to hang it up. It was nice to keep her likeness around-- like she was still here protecting him somehow.