Like clockwork, every generation, one was born.

Instruments of the Court, hidden figures shrouded in mystery. In history, at the turning points of falling empires, at executions of overthrown kings and queens, the most influential moments in history, they were always there. A person of extraordinary, inherited ability, someone not even considered human from even birth. What existed first, the Court or the Talon? The answer had been lost to the past.

But two things were always true: the Talon was always the first born child of one of the court, and always born shortly after the death of the previous Talon. Always the firstborn of the Court, as a sacrifice of its members as nothing comes free. Always after the previous Talon's demise, as there could only be one.

It was an honor, they always said, an honor to have created a Talon.

(Being a Talon was an honor.)

Mary was never fooled. Talons were taken from their families at age fourteen. Talons did not have spouses or children. Talons lost their names upon indoctrination. Talons were never allowed to do anything unless ordered. Until death, their sole purpose was to serve.

(Being a Talon was a death sentence.)

"It's a boy!"

"A boy, Mary, a boy!" John squeezed his wife's hand, and she smiled tiredly. The labor had been long and painful. Giving birth in a circus tent wasn't… ideal, but the baby hadn't been due for another two weeks.

Something in Mary's stomach sunk at the thought. She had thought it was safe-

Carefully wrapped in one of the other performer's old baby blankets (they always loved children), her newborn son was placed in her arms. She glanced up to see John's gentle smile, and he kissed her forehead. Love swelled in her chest.

"He's so small," she commented quietly to him, almost soberly. "Could he really be…?" It was difficult to imagine the tiny, squished, almost alien being in her arms as a human, as well… her child. Mothers always talked about how they felt such love for their children instantly, how they vowed to protect their babies with their lives minutes after their birth. Unconditional, overpowering love.

Mary felt none of that now.

"If he is," John whispered the moment the midwife left. "It's our duty-"

"Yes," Mary interrupts, taking a shaky breath. "Now go. Tell them he was early. That he- that he made the deadline."

Somehow, being alone with the baby is harder.

"Richard." She tries out the name. "Richard Grayson." Newborn babies aren't supposed to be able to see very far, but she swears those bright blue eyes blink at her, questioningly. The intelligence she saw there was... Unnerving.

"...You just had to be early, didn't you?" she accused, venom dripping from her tone as her arms tightened. The staring eyes just make her even angrier. "You were almost home free. A couple more days, and you would have been safe. Didn't you know that?" Silence.

His eyes flash golden, and so very suddenly she hates him.

"Oh my god."

Inside, she had always known.

Her child was destined to be a murderer, assassin. A sheep in wolf's clothing, a power masquerading as human. But he still lives and breathes and smiles, and she will teach him to walk and talk. He will be her child. But he will never be hers. She will lose him before he can even drive a car. It isn't his fault, but she loathes him. She wants to hit him, shake him, but instead she just freezes.

Suddenly, the spell is broken, and he begins to cry. Scream.

Her arms can move again.

"God. You're just a baby, my son and I-" A hysterical giggle leaves her lips. I wanted to hurt you. I was going to. "You must be hungry, hm? Might as well put these enlarged things to use." She brought her son to her breast, trying not to wince.

"You're… you're not the Talon. You can't be," she soothes. To reassure herself, she looks down, seeing John's blue eyes half lidded in contentment. I must have imagined it.

Nevertheless, she knew she could never tell anyone what she had seen.

It's too young to tell, usually, they tell her and the other new parents after two years. But if any signs of your child being Talon are seen, it is to be reported immediately. The sooner his or her identity is known, the better.

She almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it, laugh because she's known his identity the moment he was put in her arms. But she stayed quiet, nodded on cue, looked down when addressed. The part she had to play isn't the easiest, but it's one she's had a lot of practice doing. It's better than rebelling outwardly, better than signing her own death warrant, better than at the very least getting her taken away from her child and taken fully by the Court.

There were three of them, three potentials, all born within two weeks of each other. Lukas, the first of the three born and the other boy, was small and timid (not good qualities in a Talon), but Katherine, the second and only girl of the three, was headstrong and determined, and aggressive at times. She knows the Court hopes that it's her. It would be easy. Luckily, they are too focused on her to pay much attention to the last child born, within a day of the deadline. Her own son was more curious than anything, curious about everything and unconcerned with getting hurt. He had the scraped knees and scratched palms to prove it, though he never cried. Just stared at his mother as she wiped the blood from his fingers.

It unnerved Mary.

She loved Richard. She really did. He was her son, after all, and was the sweetest, happiest little child. He'd even been the easiest baby, rarely fussy or angry. He had John's baby blue eyes and her own slightly curling, entirely untamable black hair, and their shared dark skin. Undeniably her child, though she knew he did not entirely belong to her. She was reminded at times, when in strong feelings of happiness or anger his eyes would flash golden for just a moment, or when he'd act entirely out of character for a child.

In the moments, the thoughts of smothering him in his sleep or letting him slip under the water during a bath would return, but she never acted on them. She almost did at times, but at the last minute, she'd stop herself.

What kind of monster wanted to murder her own defenseless child? she'd wonder. He was barely a toddler, friendly, and well-behaved, and still, she got those temptations. Hell, it'd even taken her over a month to actually love and care for the little parasite suckling at her breasts and sanity. Only the moral implications and love for her husband motivated her to keep the poor thing alive at first, not counting her suppressing the bursts of sudden, impulsive need to murder him. Sure, his future held nothing but death and pain, but that wasn't his fault… He certainly didn't deserve to die because of it.

Does she want to protect him from the reality of what he was going to face, kill him mercifully before he was broken? Or did she simply hate him, hate him for being another tie to the organization she despised, another thing she'd have taken from her? Mary didn't know, and she doubted she ever would. For that, she'd need to explore those feelings, and she didn't trust herself enough to wallow for long in them. Richard would be too much in danger. No, this burden was hers alone to carry; those thoughts and wonderings, and her son's own identity.

God, she was just lucky John didn't know.

Their marriage had been arranged, as many were in those involved in the Court of Owls. Mary's parents had been involved members before her birth, and she had grown subtly indoctrinated, as all the other children had. It was tradition to join at fourteen, and at her parent's wishes, she did. Unfortunately, at that age, she had not been good at hiding her doubts, and at sixteen, was married to the completely loyal, seventeen-year-old John Grayson in hopes of 'saving' her. It was a common practice. As Talon was always born again and again, she faked her own rebirth. Denouncing her 'rebellion' and 'sin', she was opened with open arms by the members, and her husband.

If she'd been smart, maybe she would have left. From the beginning she hated it all. But she was young and scared, and in the end, she has grown to love John with her entire being. He was incapable of having any thoughts against the Court, and she could not leave him just like that. Despite her feelings, this was all she'd ever known.

Her only freedom came from their circus act.

For a moment she could forget her problems, forget the darkness always lingering at the back of her mind, as she flies. It's nothing but her, John, and the air, and there was nothing more thrilling than their heart beating together in unison, their warm hands linking in ultimate, life-risking trust. It was the only part of Mary's life uncontrolled and entirely hers.

The Court approved of her teaching her son, as acrobatic techniques would be beneficial to a Talon, but it was not for them.

Already, at two years old, it was obvious how much Richard loved it. Under her careful guidance, he mastered the miniature tightrope, and very basic maneuvers. It was a game for him, she was sure, but that didn't make it any less enjoyable. To her, connecting with him over something she felt so passionate about made him seem less like a Talon and more like a human, her child. It filled her chest with a hope she hadn't felt since before being indoctrinated. The more years that passed, the more he learned and smiled the more that hope grew.

He's six, going on seven, when that hope forms a thought.

Maybe it doesn't have to be like this. Maybe I can keep him.

They're so sure it's Katherine. She isn't a terror, at least, but a tough little thing. She wrestled with children two years older, and usually won. There were murmurs of her soon receiving special training, being taken from her almost distant parents early to prepare for her 'role'. Considering that she was just an ordinary little girl, it was laughable, but it kept Richard blissfully unsuspected. She can't complain.

Despite the fact his eyes hadn't flashed gold since his toddler years, she always kept him close, and limited his time with others. Even her own husband didn't see him often. Though she loathed keeping Richard away from her loving, kind John, it was too risky. It was either having those memories of his father, or being a child for a little while longer. Perhaps it was selfish, or a decision she didn't have the authority to make, but Richard had never known any different, and at least didn't seem to mind. A momma's boy through and through, he enjoyed the extra time he spent with her, from practicing acrobatic flips and routines to helping her and taking care of the animals. He especially enjoyed feeding and petting the elephant, who seemed to like him just as much.

Richard was kind, kind and so very bright and innocent.

She wouldn't -couldn't- let her sweet child be used for their purposes.

But she couldn't escape. Not now. Not when it was a life on the run. He was too young for such things, far too young, and he loved performing with his parents. She couldn't just rip away his entire world without even being able to even tell him why.

(What would she even say? 'Your destiny was to be a super-powered assassin controlled by a cult and I couldn't let it happen'? Yeah, that'd go well with an elementary student)

With or without John, Richard deserved a better life. He didn't ask to be born, and he certainly didn't ask to be Talon.

"Thirteen," she promises to him when he's asleep, running her fingers through his black hair. "When you turn thirteen, we'll run. And we'll never turn back. I'll protect you, my little robin."

He was eight when the line snaps, and she fell.

I'm sorry, she thought. She couldn't move her eyes from her son's horrified features, (thank god he hadn't jumped yet) and for a moment his eyes glowed gold through the already forming tears.

Mary wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to live. She wanted to save her son from himself. But there were only seconds.

At least I'll finally be free, she thought with a bitter smile, eyes closing.

And then she was.