Bruce's smirk faded into something subtler—thoughtful, assessing. He set his cup down and stood with quiet ease, the firelight outlining his tall frame.
"Come," he said, his tone neither commanding nor casual, but somewhere in between. "You should see the house you'll be calling home for the next three years."
Athena placed her cup on the saucer, adjusted her gold glasses, and rose to her feet. She moved with the same poise she'd carried since stepping out of the car—unhurried, precise. Her long, dark hair, tied into a neat bun, barely shifted as she followed him. Although tired, she had energy to last.
The grand hall stretched endlessly, lined with portraits of the Wayne family—past generations who looked down from their frames with solemn, unblinking eyes. Athena slowed, her gaze sharp and observant, studying each painting with a mixture of curiosity and quiet calculation.
"Your family?" she asked, glancing briefly at Bruce.
"Some of them," Bruce replied, his tone flat but carrying a weight of history. "The Waynes have lived in Gotham for a long time."
Athena's gaze lingered on one particularly stern portrait of Thomas Wayne. "They look like people who were used to being... watched."
Bruce's lips twitched, almost a hint of amusement. "They were. Being a Wayne means being in the public eye whether you want to or not. But the real weight isn't the fame. It's the expectations."
Athena simply kept looking at the portrait and gave a slight heavy nod, her eyes gave almost a flash of darkness. "It's... understandable."
'I've been through it.' She thought.
Alfred, walking just behind them, gave the faintest chuckle. "She's quick, sir."
"Noted," Bruce replied without looking back.
They moved through the long corridors, past antique suits of armor, towering bookshelves, and gleaming display cases holding relics of Gotham's past. Athena took everything in, her heterochromatic eyes—one warm brown, one cool—missing nothing.
"You're not saying much," Bruce said finally, glancing at her.
"I'm listening," Athena replied calmly. "The house speaks for itself. It's... big. Not just in size, but in presence. People who lived here were the kind who knew how to leave their mark."
Bruce's expression flickered for a second, impressed despite himself. "You read a lot from walls and pictures."
"I read a lot from people too," Athena said without hesitation.
Alfred's lips curved into the smallest smirk. "She's not wrong, sir."
Bruce opened a set of double doors, revealing a vast library. The smell of old paper, leather, and polished wood filled the air. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves towered over them, and a spiral staircase led to a second balcony lined with more volumes.
Athena's eyes brightened for the first time since arriving. "This... is incredible."
"You like books?" Bruce asked, though he could already tell from her expression.
"I like information," Athena corrected, eyes on the books. "Books just happen to hold a lot of it."
Then she took a nice sniff of the place. "I love that smell. The smell of books."
Bruce glanced at Alfred, who raised an eyebrow in quiet agreement.
As they continued, Bruce noted the way Athena walked—calm, confident, not overwhelmed by the manor's scale. Most people were, even adults. She didn't fidget or stare wide-eyed; she analyzed, as if deciding how she fit into the place rather than letting the place overwhelm her.
"Your room has been prepared," Alfred said as they neared the west wing. "It overlooks the gardens. I trust you'll find it comfortable."
Athena nodded. "If it has a bed, a desk, and Wi-Fi, I'll survive."
Bruce gave a soft huff that might have been a laugh. "You'll find Wayne Manor has... more than the basics."
Alfred led Athena through a long corridor toward the west wing, where the walls shifted from formal elegance to a quieter, more private atmosphere. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and lavender—a touch Alfred insisted on for the guest quarters.
"Here we are," Alfred said, pushing open a set of white double doors.
The room was spacious, much larger than anything Athena had ever expected. A queen-sized bed, draped in deep navy linens, sat against the far wall beneath a large window overlooking the gardens. A mahogany desk, a small reading nook, and even a private bookshelf were arranged with deliberate care.
Athena stepped inside, her gold hoops glinting under the warm light. She ran her fingertips along the smooth surface of the desk, her dark brown eyes scanning every corner. "This is... bigger than my old apartment."
Alfred smiled faintly. "Master Wayne believes that if one is to work hard, one should live in comfort."
Bruce, leaning casually against the doorway, watched her with that same silent intensity. "You'll have everything you need here," he said.
Athena turned slightly, her gaze sharp as it settled on him. "This scholarship... it's a strange one."
Bruce raised a brow. "Strange how?"
"Well," she started, walking to the window as if thinking aloud, "most scholarships are about academics or sports or some charity quota. But this? Live in Wayne Manor for a year, attend Gotham Academy, and..." She turned her head slightly, her gold-framed glasses catching the light. "...no interviews. No face-to-face meetings. Just one test and one question about justice."
Bruce's expression didn't change, but his silence spoke volumes.
Athena's tone remained calm, almost casual. "I'm guessing this isn't just about funding someone's education. It feels... personal. Like you're looking for something."
Alfred glanced at Bruce, the ghost of a smirk on his face. "She's rather astute, sir. I told you as much."
Bruce crossed his arms, studying her like one would study a puzzle piece. "And what do you think I'm looking for, Miss Blackwell?"
Athena shrugged lightly, though her eyes didn't waver. "Someone who's not afraid to say what they think about the world. Someone who knows how to hold their ground. Or maybe..." She tilted her head slightly, "...someone who won't make this place feel so empty."
Bruce's jaw tightened slightly, but not in irritation—more like recognition. He gave a slow nod. "You're perceptive."
Athena smiled faintly. "I'm observant. Big difference."
Bruce leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his curiosity unmistakable. "Why did you apply for the Wayne Scholarship, Athena?"
Athena, who had just set her backpack on the desk, looked at him like the question had a surprisingly simple answer. "Because I wanted to."
Bruce's brows lifted slightly. "That's it?"
"That's it," she replied, settling onto the edge of the bed as if this was the most natural conversation in the world. "It was there on the website, looked interesting, so I thought... why not? I didn't even believe it was real at first. I called to make sure someone wasn't catfishing me with fancy logos and a free trip to Gotham."
Alfred, standing just behind Bruce, coughed lightly—though his eyes sparkled with amusement.
"You called to confirm the legitimacy of the Wayne Scholarship?" Bruce asked, his tone flat, as though he wasn't sure whether to be offended or impressed.
"Yeah," Athena said, completely unfazed. "I mean, come on. A billionaire offering a full ride to Gotham Academy and a year in his fancy manor? It screamed scam." She gave a small smirk. "When they told me it was real, I figured I had nothing to lose. So I applied. And... here I am."
Bruce's lips twitched, almost—almost—forming a smile. "So there wasn't some big reason? No long-term goal behind it?"
Athena leaned back slightly, resting her hands behind her on the bedspread. "Nope. I just wanted to. Simple as that. I don't do overthinking unless it's worth it."
Bruce studied her for a moment, and for the first time, his expression softened. There was something oddly refreshing about her blunt honesty, especially when most people tried so hard to impress him.
"Interesting," he murmured.
"Boring," she corrected with a faint grin. "But it worked, didn't it?"
Alfred chuckled softly. "I daresay it did, Miss Blackwell."
By the time the conversation wound down, the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed twelve times, its deep, resonant tone echoing through the halls of Wayne Manor.
Athena realized how late it had become. She had landed at Gotham International around 10 PM, and between customs, the quiet car ride, and the grand tour of the manor, midnight had crept up on them.
"Would you like something to eat?" Alfred asked politely as he opened the door to her room once more. "A proper meal, perhaps?"
Athena shook her head. "No, thank you. I already ate on the plane."
"Ah, first class then," Alfred said with a knowing smile.
Athena paused for a beat. "I didn't realize it was first class until one of the crew mentioned it. I just thought it was... you know, a fancy corner seat."
Alfred raised an eyebrow, amused.
"I told them 'oh,'" Athena added with a small shrug, as if the detail were irrelevant. "Food was good though."
Alfred's smile lingered as he inclined his head. "Very well, Miss Blackwell. I'll leave you to settle in. Should you need anything, simply ring the bell near your bedside."
Athena gave him a brief nod before turning back to inspect her new room. The house was grand, the silence heavy, but for the first time that day, she allowed herself to exhale and sink into the mattress, the events of the night still buzzing faintly in her mind.
"Those cookies were delicious. When do I get to eat them again?" She muttered drowsily before sleeping.
.
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―1535 words.