Chapter Text
Damian is getting frustrated.
Cass made this assumption after having a knife thrown at her outside of training hours. She watched as the boy was quickly hauled away by assassins, all while Damian screamed out curses and obscenities that were too long for Cass to note for later references.
Not too long after, Damian would set up a trap outside her bedroom’s door. Cass simply avoids the tripwire, catches the onslaught of shuriken, and promptly makes her way to the bathroom as she resumes to another typical morning.
Then, during one of their matches, Cass narrowly evades the several poison darts that Damian has hidden in his sleeves.
She gave Talia a pointed look, to which the woman shrugged nonchalantly.
Cass takes back what she originally thought about them. No one in this place is near normal.
“You never make a move against me,” Damian notes. “Why?”
The two of them are currently resting in the middle of the training grounds. Cass is laying on her back with her hands resting on top of her stomach.
Damian is seated next to her, sitting cross-legged upon a mat of his own. When Cassandra laid down the first time, he was horrified and berated her for allowing dirt to stick onto her clothes. When it was clear that the older child didn’t care and would continue the folly, Damian would begrudgingly order a servant to bring in mats for them to rest upon.
The open ceiling here is what made this room Cass’s favorite amongst the others. Being able to stare at the open skies and rolling clouds gives her the illusion of what it’s like to be free.
It’s been several weeks since their first encounter. Damian has proven to be insistent to include Cassandra to his schedule, much to a certain assassin’s annoyance. He didn’t care about her father. He was more concerned about her, how she would never fail to best him in a match.
It’s infuriating.
After weeks of aggressive sparring and use of devious tricks, the boy was forced to face the problem with a different approach. Once he stepped back and reassessed what he knew about her and their spars, it led him to a startling realization.
Not once did Cassandra raise a hand against him.
“I tried to stab you on numerous occasions,” He says. “Even tried to poison you. Yet, you never retaliate even though it’s clear that you could.”
The only reason Damian could come up with was the difference in their authority. But, after spending so much time with her, Cassandra didn’t strike him as someone who’s aware of their statuses. He wasn’t even sure if she knew who he even is other than a fellow child who refused to admit defeat.
“Is it out of pity?” He scoffed. “A demon’s heir doesn’t require pity.”
Cassandra scrunched up her face. “Not know.. Word.”
Damian sighed. “Which one?”
He doesn’t recall becoming her personal dictionary, but sometimes he has to be one if he wishes to continue conversation with her- which is a strange thing in itself because…
Why does he want to talk to her?
“Pit.. Tee,” She mumbles out. “Pity.”
“It means to feel sorry for someone’s misfortunes.”
“Miss.. For..”
“When sad things happen to someone,” Damian snapped. “Forget it- I don’t know why I even bother.”
Grumbling, he stood back up and began to head back to the weaponry on the wall. After watching him walk away, Cass turned back so she could face the clouds passing by.
“I pity you,” Cass finally says, but Damian is already too far to hear.
She closed her eyes.
“Pity me, too.”
Despite all the attempts made on her life, Cass does enjoy her time with Damian.
Unlike the others, Damian makes an effort to talk to her. Most of it comes out from spews of promised revenge and curses, but sometimes there are moments of actual conversation. Damian would still take up most of the talking and she would answer little back (much to his visible irritation) but he talks to her nonetheless.
He is so different from all the other people that are constant in her life, which isn’t many to begin with. Cain is- well, Cain. Talia does better when compared to the other assassins, but she seems to keep her feelings guarded and still opted to study Cassandra from afar.
There’s also this special feeling of kinship she feels whenever she sees the other child. They’re being raised in similar circumstances, and he’s probably the closest person to understand how she feels.
She just wished that the same thing could be said for the other way around.
One day, Cass didn’t find Damian at his usual spot.
She had just finished her morning training with her father before wordlessly leaving to meet the boy. Damian has come to fetch her so many times that Cain didn’t bother to bat an eye whenever she allowed herself to leave ahead of time.
He still hasn’t said a word about her garner for speech, and she suspects Damian plays a part in it.
When she reached the training grounds, the assassins let her in as always, making a quick haste to close the doors the moment she entered.
Cass notices that Talia isn’t here, which could mean a number of things. The most likely one being that she’s busy with her own duties, thus opting to leave the children to train by themselves. This tends to leave Damian fighting more recklessly than he should, but Cass could handle it.
She takes a moment to look around.
Strange. She expected to see him already in the middle of training. But, the boy was nowhere to be found.
Cass looks again.
There.
Behind one of the pillars at the far right, she spots a familiar mop of dark brown hair peeking out. Cass started to walk towards the direction before hesitating.
Maybe he hasn’t bothered to greet her today for a reason. But he doesn’t come across as someone who would deliberately waste time that’s meant for training, let alone skipping it all together.
Making up her mind, she continues her path. As she gets closer, the boy still hasn’t shown any signs of reaction. Cass tilts her head, mildly curious. Damian is well-trained enough to sense a person’s presence. So, he must be really occupied by something to not notice her by now.
She subconsciously quiets her footsteps as she reaches the pillar. The last thing she wants is to startle him and have another sharp object thrown at her.
Cass circles her way around it. When she finally spots Damian, all the answers fall into place.
He’s sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the pillar. His legs are sprawled before him with his hands resting against something on his lap. His eyes are currently shut, but the rise and fall of his chest tells her that he’s still alive.
Sleeping. Damian is sleeping.
Silently, Cass took a seat before him so she could study him more.
Without a doubt, it was strange and peculiar to witness him like this. She was used to seeing him full of tension, always scowling or acting haughty whenever he addresses someone other than his mother. Beyond that, Cass had always read his lingering feeling of doubts, even when he tried very hard to conceal it.
Now, there’s a sense of calmness on his face. Damian looks relaxed, almost peaceful; A vast difference to the boy that seems to carry the world upon his shoulders.
For once, he looks like a child.
“Small,” Cass says, her lips almost curling to something akin to a smile.
Hesitantly, she raises her hand towards his face. A part of her mind is logically debating that if he wakes up now, he’ll surely try to kill her. But another part of her is too focused on the small pudge of his cheeks.
Carefully, she pokes his face with her index finger. The softness of his cheeks discerns greatly from his calloused hands, a discrepancy between a hardened warrior and that of a child.
The boy stirs from his sleep, brows furrowing- for a moment, Cass readied herself for the oncoming fury. But then he quickly settles down again, returning to his deep slumber.
Cass pulled back her hand and studied him more. Damian must’ve drifted off by accident before she arrived. But, why here?
Her eyes strayed to the object in his hands. It wasn’t completely unfamiliar. She remembered seeing these things before, rarely. Her father would go through great lengths to keep it out of her reach, always deeming them as unnecessary. When she was a younger child, she remembered sneakily grabbing one of these things - books - but the contents inside revealed nothing but squiggly lines full of nonsense. She didn’t realize that these things were words, so she was quick to get rid of the book without her father’s knowledge. Though, she did like the pictures it had.
Cass recalled that memory with pursed lips. Considering everything that has happened, she should’ve kept that book.
She turned her attention back to the book on the boy’s lap.
Gently, she pries the book from his hands.
Damian woke up with a stifled yawn. He then moves his hands towards his face and attempts to rub the bleariness from his eyes.
He must’ve dozed off for a minute there. A part of him wanted to keep sleeping, but he soon rather be caught dead than someone finding him with his-
He froze.
His arms immediately retracted back to his lap, searching for the sketchbook that he knew should be there. But when his hands felt nothing but the fabric of his pants, he started to panic. He looked around his surroundings, feverishly hoping that the book was just misplaced somewhere nearby.
And then he spots her.
Even though she’s sitting only a foot away, Cassandra pays no mind to him. Instead, her gaze is directed towards something on her lap.
Looking down, Damian's eyes widened at the sight of his sketchbook.
Cass hands ghosted over the pages, carefully tracing the lines of his drawings. When she finished studying the current spread, she would carefully turn to the next page and repeat the process.
Damian looked on with absolute horror.
Cass must’ve noticed his growing alarm because she finally looked up to glance at him.
Without a second thought, he snatches the book from her. Cass returned a confused look followed by an annoyed sound, but he paid no mind to it as he pressed the object close to his chest.
“What are you doing?” He blurts out, more out of embarrassment than anything.
Cass frowns at him, showing much more emotion than he is used to receiving from her. She opens her hands and gestures towards his book.
“Give back.”
He held the sketchbook tighter. “As if- I can’t show this to you, or anyone else!”
For a moment, Cass tried to understand what meant by that. “Why?”
“Because it’s unbecoming of me,” He says through gritted teeth. “I’m expected to become the next heir, to be the best assassin and not some- some meager child who likes to doodle.”
Damian tried to keep his composure, but at the back of his mind, he’s terrified at what this revelation could cost him. He wasn’t supposed to take interest in something so trivial like drawing- what would mother say? What would grandfather even think? He was already promised the throne to the League one day, but that doesn’t mean anything to a man who despised anyone with even a small hint of weakness.
He should’ve never pulled out the drawing pad. It didn’t matter how much he needed it as an outlet despite his frustrations at everything. This momentary fragility should’ve never happened.
He hasn’t done anything to gain Cassandra’s favor- quite the opposite, really. And now he has foolishly revealed one of his deepest secrets to her, and there’s no telling what she’ll do with it.
“Bad?” Cass queried, pulling the boy out his thoughts. It seems he momentarily forgot that she could read people like a book.
Damian raised a brow in annoyance. “Yes, it’s bad.”
“Why?”
“Why do you have to keep parroting the same words?” Damian tutted. “Mother and grandfather would not approve of this absurd hobby.”
“You.. think?”
“I don’t just think so, I just know,” Damian pauses. “You can’t be that ignorant of the implications. Have you never done anything that your father disapproves of?”
A bitter part of him wanted to guess no, since she’s spectacular at fighting.
Cass absorbed his words, seemingly coming to an understanding as she tucked her knees into herself.“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“No tell,” Cass promised. “I won’t.”
Damian cocks his head at her. “Just like that? But.. I hated you, despised you- Even tried ways to get rid of you.”
“I know,” She mumbles. “Don’t care.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Damian’s jaw tightens. “Is there nothing you want? I can’t put my mind at ease unless there’s something, Cassandra.”
Suddenly, the girl brightens up. She quickly taps him on the shoulder. “Again.”
“Again?” Damian looked at her quizzically. “We haven’t even sparred once today.”
“No,” She shakes her head and points at herself. “Cass.”
“You want me.. to call you Cassandra?”
Cass nodded excitedly. “ Cass.”
Damian gives her a befuddled look. Blinking, he tries to understand where he went wrong with her request.
Hesitantly, he peered at her again. “.. Cass?”
Cass beams at him. She gives him a pat on the head, much to Damian’s sputtering.
Never has he felt so bewildered. There were a million other ways for her to take advantage of, yet she chose the one thing that didn’t come remotely close to crossing his mind.
What does she even gain from all of this foolishness?
Ignoring her cheeriness, he bent down towards the floor until he reached a certain plank. He pulled it loose, revealing an empty cavity underneath it. He carefully places his sketchbook inside, wearily aware of the girl’s attentive eyes on his back.
Once he was done, he turned to face her. “Come, we must begin sparring. Mother would only grow suspicious when she comes back to see how neither of us has broken a sweat.”
Nodding, the older child gets up to follow him. When she passed by him, another thought crossed her mind.
Cass points at herself. “Cass,” and then points at him. “Dami.”
She walks away as Damian begins to sputter protests behind her back.
Dami.
She smiled.
She likes the sound of that name, too.