A/N: Okay, so all of this was inspired by the cover art for this story. It is not mine, but it's so beautiful! I saw this on tumblr, and couldn't stop thinking about a possible AU until I actually wrote all of this down and posted it. The artists is gretlusky. If you like Teen Titans, you will love her posts. I posted a link to the original on my profile so you can go check her out. Okay, onto this chapter.
The sun was rising as he sharpened his sword in his personal study. He normally would have been doing this in the extensive sparring room that was almost larger than the royal barracks. The room had been used for training for almost three generations before him, but his father had it reconstructed and expanded when he had found a small boy orphaned by an unfortunate accident.
Originally a member of a family of traveling entertainers, the boy had no great fortune or future to look forward to until a terrible accident had claimed the lives of both his mother and father in one fell swoop. With the headlining act of their traveling circus gone, the group did not have the resources to continue feeding the boy and left him in the kingdom that his parents had died in before moving on to try to find citizens with lower standards and heavier pockets. Bruce Wayne found him within a fortnight wandering the cobblestone streets and took him in as his own.
If not for the tragic events that had led him to these circumstances, one might have called him the luckiest boy in the kingdom. Sir Bruce Wayne was a man of noble birth, born to one of the richest families in the kingdom of Gotham. A rich man made richer by his lineage of knights, he was knighted by the King himself before his 25th birthday. However, such intense studies in the ways of combat and defense of the kingdom had come at a price—despite the number of maidens willing to throw themselves at him, Sir Bruce Wayne had never settled down long enough to provide himself an heir. Impressed after witnessing the boy steal a loaf of bread without the shopkeeper even knowing he had walked inside, Sir Bruce Wayne took him under his wing to guide him and develop his skills to their full potential.
Thus he had the sparring room expanded, his excessive manor restored, and obtained a contract with a serf whose family had served the Waynes before him to tutor and look after the child while he was away (Bruce had rid himself of all previous help after his own parents died and he became the sole proprietor of the entire estate). Building off of the boy's natural cunning, Bruce trained him in several forms of combat as well as the arts of stealth and scouting. Enrolling the boy in Gotham's youngest regimen before the age of ten, he advanced from Recruit to Page to Squire in just five years. While his additional training at home had by no means hurt him, no member of the King's guard could deny that the boy had natural talent. Now several years younger than any other member of his current unit, the boy was on track to become a knight before his 21st year.
Of course, he tried not to think about that as he sharpened his sword in his room. It would only further confuse him as to why he had received a royal summons to appear before the king himself. Even his father, the highest ranking knight in the kingdom—who had been called to throne room almost once every fortnight—could not devise for what purpose his son had been summoned.
His attempts at distracting himself from worries breeding in the back of his mind were only interrupted when his study door opened and a familiar hand was placed on his shoulder.
He glanced up with even a smile that looked tired from a lack of sleep the night before. "Yes Alfred?"
"Breakfast is ready Sir. It has been for nearly a half hour", the old man said gently.
"Of course, Alfred. I am sorry for my forgetfulness, it is just that I have been…"
"Distracted?" the old man offered.
"Yes. Very distracted" he decided, sheathing his sword and following his oldest friend down the stairs to the dinning room and sat down at the table with enough places for ten, but only set for two, as it had been for too many years.
As he ate with his father, it became very evident that even Sir Bruce Wayne himself did not know the exact details as to why the summons had come.
"Alfred and I will take you there in the carriage, but after that the royal guards will be the ones who escort you to see the King" he stated as he slowly dissected his crepe with a precision that made him so efficient with a sword. Conversation continued like this, with Bruce telling him every rule and detail to be followed when addressing the king (which they both already knew, but was Bruce's very convoluted way of showing that he wanted his son to succeed). After they finished eating, time seemed to slip through the prodigy's fingers as the next thing he knew he was telling his father and Alfred goodbye for who knows how long and exiting the carriage.
He steadied his hands on the hilt of his sword as he approached the throne room. It felt as though the paintings of rulers past that hung on the walls were judging his worth with every step he took. He consciously straighten his posture as he walked, trying to remain calm before the guards that escorted him. He ran all of the rules over in his head, trying to find an order in it that would reduce the thick panic growing in the back of his throat. When that didn't work, he recalled every detail of the discussion that he had had with his father that morning.
Bow when he first enters and when he leaves, don't speak to him unless spoken, remember that while you are important to this kingdom's defense, he rules it…etcetera, etcetera, until he was walking through open marble doors that spanned all the way to the ceiling, and suddenly he was standing in front of the throne.
"Your Highness" he said softly but as full as respect as he could before bowing.
"Ah, Sir Bruce Wayne's son. I have heard many great things of you" the elder man said through his brown goatee. The king's red robes draped down to the floor and perfectly complimented the large ruby that held the center spot on his crown. The teen bowed again for the compliment before the King made a gesture to the guards. The four guards that he had observed when entering the room all marched to the doors and in one swift motion the room had been emptied and sealed, leaving just the king and him.
He tried not to be startled by this as the king explained, "What we are about to discuss requires a certain level of privacy." He waited for the boy to nod in understanding before continuing.
"You understand that you are very unique, yes?" Again, he waited for a nod before continuing.
"The situation in which I have been presented is also very unique." There was a pause followed by more nodding. The teen worried that the king might think him mute if continued like this, but not enough to speak.
"An ally kingdom of Gotham has recently had a drought which has caused much despair and unhappiness. To make matters worse, this was followed by a freezing winter and a plague so nasty that it all but removed them from the land. These events by themselves would not be completely bizarre, tragic as them may be, but together, all within the span of a few months…"
"They suspect something from the arcane arts to be involved?"
"Exactly, my boy. As you may know, this kingdom has a much larger problem with magical beings, what with them being surrounding by the forest in which most of them dwell. And with their forces so greatly reduced from the recent catastrophe, they are in no shape to handle their current situation or even investigate why and how this has all happened. They have even gone so far as to ask for assistance. That is where you come in. I am sending you there to aid them in discovering how to remove this curse they seem to have before it destroys them completely", the king finished, reclining back down into his thrown and giving the young man time to digest all of this new information.
After a moment, he spoke. "It is an absolute honor to serve you your Highness, but might I be so bold in asking why?"
The king smiled at this. "Like I said, you are unique. While you are not as refined as your father yet, it has come to my attention that you are progressing faster than he was at your age, and you are the youngest by far in your unit, which is in itself advanced. I want to show our ally the best that I have, and I believe that you are exactly that."
Humbled, he bowed again and thanked the king profusely. The king nodded and then continued; "Now I understand that this will not be an easy task, and for that I am prepared to reward you greatly for your success. Once you have helped this kingdom and assisted in its revival, I am willing to knight you upon your arrival home."
There was more profuse thanking before the king quieted him again. "There is a carriage with supplies waiting to take you there. Do you, Richard Grayson-Wayne accept this responsibility?"
"I do your highness" Richard replied almost instantly, his voice completely sincere.
"Good" the king smiled, "I trust you will not disappoint me."
With that goodbye, two guards entered from a secondary entrance behind the throne and escorted him down a set of winding stairs to a carriage behind the castle. As Richard closed the door to the carriage behind him, he tried not to lose his composure over what he had just agreed to.