Chapter 599: The Monarch’s Daughter

GOTHAM – ARTHUR’S ESTATE

The estate had never looked like this,

Arthur stepped through the front doors carrying a sleeping Aurora against his chest, Kara close beside him still moving carefully, and stopped dead in the entryway at the sight that greeted him. A banner stretched the full width of the grand hall, bold silver letters spelling out WELCOME HOME, AURORA against a backdrop of soft violet and gold. Strings of warm, floating lights drifted lazily near the ceiling, clearly arranged rather than accidental. Tables along the far wall groaned faintly under an assortment of food that could have fed a small army, which, given the household today, was likely not a coincidence.

George stood near the base of the grand staircase, hands folded behind his back, positively glowing with quiet, satisfied pride.

"You did all of this," Arthur said slowly, taking in the sheer scale of it, "alone?"

"I did the bulk of it before departing for the hospital, Master Arthur," George said, inclining his head. "Your shadow demons proved rather eager to assist as well, once they understood the occasion. I confess I did not expect quite such enthusiasm from beings of that description, but I’ve learned not to question good help when it presents itself."

"Right," Arthur said, still faintly bewildered, glancing toward the far corner where two of his Marshals appeared to be very carefully, very precisely arranging a display of flowers with a level of concentration usually reserved for battle formations.

"Might I add," George said, "that a small contingent of them insisted on personally taste-testing the catering, purely for quality assurance. I found it rather touching, in its own strange way."

"That sounds less like quality assurance and more like Beru finding an excuse to eat the good cheese," Arthur said.

"I couldn’t possibly comment, sir."

Adam appeared from somewhere near the stairs a moment later, already holding a plate stacked embarrassingly high, and let out a low, impressed whistle as he took in the growing crowd filtering through the front doors.

"You know," he said, sidling up beside Arthur, "when you said you were having a few people over, I wasn’t picturing half the Justice League’s heaviest hitters casually mingling in your front hall."

"They’re friends, Adam."

"Sure, sure." Adam gestured with his fork toward where Diana and Hal were already deep in conversation near the drinks table. "It’s just, normal families have, like, an aunt and a couple of coworkers show up for this sort of thing. We’ve got Wonder Woman critiquing the flower arrangements."

"She’s not critiquing them, she’s admiring them."

"She’s been standing there for four minutes, Arthur."

Their mother, passing by with a soft, knowing smile, reached out to pat Adam lightly on the shoulder without breaking stride. "Let your brother have his friends over, dear. It’s a lovely thing, seeing a house this full."

"I’m not complaining," Adam said quickly, though the grin on his face said otherwise. "I just think it’s objectively very funny that Aurora’s welcome-home party has better security than most small nations."

"She’ll never know the difference," their mother said serenely, already moving off toward the kitchen to check on something only she seemed aware needed checking. "She’s two days old."

"She’ll know when she’s older and finds out Superman brought her a stuffed animal personally."

"I did," Clark confirmed cheerfully, appearing just in time to catch the tail end of the comment, a wrapped gift already tucked under one arm. He crossed the room and pulled Kara into a careful, gentle hug the moment he reached her. "You look wonderful. Tired, but wonderful."

"I feel like I ran a marathon," Kara admitted, laughing.

"You basically did," Clark said. "Kryptonian or not, you deserve rest." He glanced down at the sleeping bundle in Arthur’s arms, his expression softening considerably. "She’s beautiful."

"Thank you, Clark."

Diana offered Arthur a warm, genuine embrace before turning to admire the sprawling display of lights strung along the ceiling with genuine appreciation.

"A daughter," she said, smiling. "I have a feeling this world is about to become considerably more interesting."

"It already has," Arthur said.

"George’s work?" Diana asked, glancing around at the decorations.

"Apparently with volunteer labor from my own army," Arthur said dryly.

Diana laughed, a rich, genuine sound. "I would very much like to have seen that. Shadow soldiers hanging streamers."

"I have it on good authority Doom personally held the ladder," Adam offered, mouth still half-full.

"Is that so," Arthur said.

"George told me."

"George exaggerates."

"I do not, sir," George said primly, passing by with a fresh tray of drinks. "Doom was, in fact, remarkably steady. Excellent ladder-holder."

Hal Jordan looking slightly windswept and clearly having flown in directly, a wrapped gift tucked under one arm. "Sorry I’m late," he said, grinning. "Had to swing by a very specific toy store on the way. Congratulations, you two once again." He glanced around at the sheer scale of the celebration, whistling low. "This is... a lot, by the way."

"George’s doing," Arthur said, for what felt like the fifth time that evening.

"George... has taste," Hal said approvingly.

"Thank you, Mister Jordan," George said, passing by yet again, entirely unbothered by the constant credit being assigned to him.

The real commotion arrived with John Constantine, who strolled in without waiting to be announced, trench coat trailing, cigarette already half-smoked despite George’s immediate, pointed look toward the nearest window, Zatanna a step behind him shaking her head at his lack of manners.

"Well, would you look at this," John said, surveying the banner and lights with an exaggerated, appreciative whistle. "Proper little fairy-tale nursery vibe you’ve got going here, Monarch. Didn’t peg you for the sentimental type."

"John," Zatanna said warningly.

"What? It’s a compliment." John wandered further in, eyeing the spread of food with open approval, already reaching for something off the nearest tray before Zatanna smacked his hand away. "Congratulations, Arthur, Kara." He raised an invisible glass in Arthur’s direction. "Here’s hoping the poor girl doesn’t inherit your taste for dramatic entrances. World can only handle one bloke who shows up trailing a bloody army of shadows."

"I’ll do my best to discourage it," Arthur said dryly.

Zatanna swept past him to properly congratulate Kara, pulling her into a warm hug. "She’s going to be beautiful," she said. "I can already feel it. Good energy in this house tonight."

"Thank you, Z." Kara said, beaming.

"Don’t mind him," Zatanna added, nodding back toward John, who had already wandered off toward the food table despite her best efforts. "He’s excited. This is just what excited looks like on him."

"It looks a lot like every other expression he has," Adam observed.

"You get used to telling the difference eventually," Zatanna said, sighing.

It was John, a short while later, drink now firmly in hand, who noticed the two Marshals near the far wall Beru and Bellion, deep in what appeared to be an increasingly intense discussion, their voices low but clearly heated.

"She should learn combat fundamentals first," Beru was insisting, mandibles clicking with emphasis. "Reflexes, balance, the basics of reading an opponent’s stance. Foundational. Essential."

"She should learn discipline and strategy first," Bellion countered, wings shifting. "A sword without a mind behind it is simply a liability."

"Damn it you two," Galatea cut in flatly, arms crossed, watching the two of them. "Let the poor thing learn to walk before either of you starts drafting a training regimen!"

"Walking is foundational," Beru said, as though this settled the matter entirely in his favor.

"That’s not what I meant and you know it."

John, wandering close enough to catch the tail end of the argument, raised an eyebrow toward Zatanna. "Did you hear that? Shadow soldiers, having a full domestic spat about parenting philosophy at a baby shower." He grinned, delighted, already angling for a better vantage point. "I love this family already. Truly. This is better than telly."

"Please don’t encourage them," Arthur called over, overhearing.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," John said, already leaning in closer to eavesdrop further.

Igris, standing nearby with considerably more composure than his squabbling counterparts, offered only a single, measured comment. "For what it’s worth, my Monarch, I intend to wait until she can hold a sword upright before offering any formal opinion."

"Thank you, Igris. Truly. A voice of reason."

"He’s no fun," Beru muttered.

"He’s correct," Galatea said.

Raven, drifting up beside Arthur with a faint, amused smile, watched the whole exchange unfold with delight. "They mean well," she said.

"They mean entirely too much," Arthur said, pressing two fingers briefly to his temple.

Kara, watching from a nearby chair with unrestrained delight, laughed so hard she had to press a hand to her own ribs. "I love them," she said. "I genuinely, unconditionally love them."

"You say that now," Arthur said.

"I’ll say it forever, probably."

Bruce arrived quietly, as he tended to, slipping in without much fanfare, and spent a good portion of the evening simply observing, not in the guarded, calculating way he observed most gatherings, but with something closer to genuine, curious interest, his eyes tracking the Marshals as they moved through the estate with surprising warmth, surprising ease, nothing at all like the disciplined, lethal instruments he’d expected an army of shadow soldiers to be.

Clark drifted up beside him at one point, following his gaze toward where Igris was very solemnly allowing Adam to attempt, and fail, to lift his longsword off a display stand.

"Taking notes?" Clark asked, a knowing edge of humor in his voice.

"No," Bruce said. "Not this time."

Clark’s eyebrows rose, genuinely surprised enough to comment on it. "That might be a first."

"Don’t get used to it," Bruce said.

"You’re smiling, Bruce."

"I am not."

"You absolutely are. Small one. Barely there, but it still counts."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Clark grinned and let it go, content simply to enjoy the rare sight without pushing it further.

/-\

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