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"Damian The Wife"
"Damian? Damian!"
It sounds like Drake's voice, that's for sure. Drake's voice echoing somewhere wide and stony. Also, is that running water in the background? And what is this strange taste in his mouth? Has he been unconscious so long that his tongue has staled?
No...It's the taste of poison. The one used to knock him out.
"Damian? Wake up! We need to get out of here before he comes back down!"
He can feel the panic in their faint bond, throbbing in his neck like a bad bruise. He thirsts to see Tim, to know he is okay, to know he is there with him.
When Robin opens his eyes he can barely see.
"Drake?" He murmurs. At least he still has his vocals.
Tim breathes a sigh of relief.
"Sit up. Can you see? It might take a while for your eyes to adjust. I think he used a sensory nullifier. Follow my voice." He? Who is he?
Slowly, Damian gains the feeling of his body. He's on his back, limbs strewn about like he was thrown down. They must be in cells. Are they in the same one?
The first movement brings pain to his unused muscles, but also relief as his blood starts flowing properly again. He rolls over and presses his hands into the ground, pushing himself up onto his knees.
"Drake, who-" He nearly falls forward, losing his balance. He catches himself with a grunt, "Who has us?"
He starts crawling towards where Tim's voice is.
"Ra's," Tim states in a cold tone. Damian can faintly see his soulmate's angered expression in his mind, their bond allowing him to see his face and feel his emotions.
He sees Tim reach for him.
"Come here," he whispers. His arms brush along Damian's shoulder and the younger tries to press himself against the other's warmth, but that attempt proves futile when he meets thick cold bars instead.
"We are not in the same cell?" He panics, attempting to hide it, but he knows Tim can feel it.
"It's okay," Tim soothes. He pulls Damian closer to him by wrapping his arms around his waist. Blind, cold and confused, Damian clutches one of those limbs tightly, sensing Tim's breath warm against his temple, "It's okay." He could almost believe it is.
Damian used to hate feeling tim digging around in his mind. When he turned thirteen and his soul mark appeared, mirroring the red swirl on Tim's neck, both were devastated. Naturally they rejected each other and their bond fell into limbo.
But, over three years, they have slowly grown closer and accepting, though never out loud.
When Tim's lips brush against his hair the tender moment sends Damian's heart spiralling. It does not last as the situation is dire and neither one of them are trained to sit and wait for rescue.
"So...touching."
Still blind, Damian sees his grandfather at the bars of his cell in Tim's mind. He wants to throw his arm away and launch himself at him, demand to know what his plans are, but Tim keeps his grip iron.
"What's your plan here, then?" Tim asks. He sounds eerily calm and Damian considers it a believable front. "Are we bait? Talia wants to throw down with Selina again? Or is it about me?"
"It's about both of you, actually," Damian hears the door to his cell rattle. Tim clutches him tighter. "Or rather that pretty pattern on your necks.
Footsteps, then more people are rushing into his cage. Tim tries to hold him, tries to protect him through the gaps in the bars, but Damian is wrenched from his arms with a pained yelp. The teen is still weak and only able to fight off one of the apprehenders, but there are arms locking down all of his limbs as he is lifted into the air, carried like a crowd surf.
They take him out of the cell with Tim yelling after him. Damian can faintly see a bright light as he is escorted from the dungeons, the sound of Tim's cell door opening long in the distance.
Ra's' voice does not enter to gloat. Damian is forced to assume his grandfather stayed behind to taunt Timothy and pet his sick crush on him. Damian tries to search for their bond in his heart to see what is going on, but their far apart their state of limbo stands out.
He can not feel him.
Dismayed, Damian can only struggle until he is brought to a chair and shackled down. The people who escorted him leave. This room is bright and silent enough so that a little bit of his vision has come back. He can see the shapes of things, like a bed to the corner and a fireplace across the carpet.
"Lift your head please."
A woman's voice, elderly and soft from his left. He does not obey, but she still touches his chin and raises it. Damian does not have the energy or composure to drop it back down. The woman dabs his face with a damp cloth softly.
She spends a few minutes doing this before moving onto a strange salve which she applies with a tool.
Meanwhile, Damian tries to search for Tim. He gets two faint glimpses lasting less than a second. One of Ra's touching his face, the other of him being forced into a chair and cleansed as well.
What is his grandfather's plan this time?
The elderly woman tips his head back. Damian keeps his eyes open in an attempt to keep his vision recovering.
Suddenly, something blunt and hot runs beneath his eyes. Something like smoke brushes his lashes and Damian grunts. The woman pulls back.
"What are you doing!?" He demands.
Instead of getting an immediate response, he gets the same treatment on the other eye.
"Preparing you," the woman finally says.
Damian snaps, "For what!?"
Once again, she responds with touching his eyes, this time spreading something over his lids. That contact confirms it for Damian; she is decorating his face with makeup. When she goes for his lips he tosses his head side to side, refusing to look like a fool when his father arrives to rescue them.
Everything stops when the door opens.
"Now now," Ra's begins with an amused tone, "You do not want to look unfinished on your big day now, do you young one?"
Big day?
"Timothy does not require makeup of course, his complexion is flawless. But, since fate has chosen him the more unworthy Al Ghul as a mate for life we must make do."
Of all the emotions he has towards his grandfather's words, Ra's' crush on Tim makes the rage burn brightest.
"Your are going to marry us?" He slurs, then laughs vainly, "You truly are sick. You do realise that no matter how much you want it, he will always be mine, don't you? Mine. What is your plan, to soak yourself in the pit until you are our age so that you may appeal to him? It will not happen. He loves me."
The words on his tongue are not ones he believes, but they're enough to irk Ra's, who backhands Damian across the face. The teen barely feels it in his state. He merely laughs as the woman covers the mark up.
Ra's finally announces his intentions as he is leaving. So, he really did just come to gloat. Damian hears the door opens and the Demon's voice is full of pure joy, "I am going to put my soul in your body, grandson."
Damian roars abuse, but he is already gone.
The process of being forced into a dress which Damian can now faintly see through the shadows on his eyes is one of the most embarrassing predicaments of his life.
His body is not something he readily puts on display, for anyone.
The elderly woman sends the helpers away after they can not rob him of his costume.
"I will put the dress on over your uniform," she says decisively. She comes towards him and Damian sees her raise the dress and put it over his head.
It's itchy because of the high collar. He doubts any of the Robin costume can be seen. He wants to ask why it is a dress and not a suit, but he knows why; it's another way for his grandfather to humiliate him.
He is going to be Tim's wife for a brief moment before it is all taken away and Ra's has his body.
We will escape. We will escape.
When Tim comes back into his mind, Damian is being lead to the familiar great hall. He doesn't have to imagine Tim standing there because he can see it in his head. The man looks magnificent in a red robe but it not a comfort.
Damian's dress is gold and sparkles. Ye it does nothing to decrease his shame as the doors open. He can feel the presence of two guards behind him in case he tries to make a run for it.
They really are going to marry.
The room is visible to him, just hazy. Tim is staring at him with concern, shackled to the altar with chains that have a twin waiting for Damian. The audience are league members on their knees. A man dressed like something ancient stands with Ra's in front of Tim. He must be the celebrant and the sorcerer.
Ra's comes to Damian when the other is about to take his first step up the altar. He grips the teen's hands, "It's only right that I give you away," he smirks cruelly.
Damian glares, flushed, snatching his arms away. Ra's face drops as he slaps is grandson, shoving the boy up the stairs. Damian nearly falls but Tim catches him in a moment that brings just a little hope.
"Are you okay?" He asks softly. Damian can feel his comfort through the bond as they clutch hands.
Though soulmates can not share words, they can share ideas. It comes into the other's mind like a sudden thought but with an undertone of their soulmate's doing. A different taste to what is on their own mind.
"Yes," Damian whispers, straightening up.
"To the Great Demon's Head of Nanda Parbat, to the League of Assassins..." The priest begins.
This is not how it is supposed to happen. He and Tim are supposed to marry in the yard of the manor. A small private ceremony much later in life. Things he dreams about when Tim is far enough away that he won't hear them.
Things they both knew were always going to happen.
Damian.
The teen meets eyes with Tim at the call, everything almost back into focus. Damian can see the clothes of each assassin kneeling for the ceremony, the rock walls carved with familiar patterns, the golden columns, the green tapestries, the cube sitting between them likely to be used for the soul extraction.
Grab it, he and Tim have the same idea.
A soul cube is a piece of magic technology that can turn a soul bond into pure power. Both of their guesses are that Ra's plans to use their bond to power the cube and use the energy to extract his own soul and replace Damian's.
Our bond is ours and ours only.
Tim will never forget the day he woke up hunched over the Batcomputer on Damian's thirteenth birthday. He could feel the shift in his entire being- his soulmate had reached the teenaged years and could now find him.
When Damian appeared in the cave with a look of utter devastation on his face, the same symbol as Tim's shimmering on his neck, all of the joy was exchanged for grief.
But that was three years ago.
They brush past each other, hug without words to recharge their souls, sit beside each other in the library on rainy days. They are not together, but they do love each other. That bond is theirs and theirs only.
Not Ra's' to play with.
They move in synch, clutching their hands tighter and reaching for the cube. It's the size of a basketball and glows blue, but the luminosity increases tenfold when they make contact. Ra's was stupid enough to allow the chains so long.
The cube recognises their bond, their love, and grants their wish of breaking the chains on their hands with its energy.
Damian launches himself at his grandfather whilst Tim smashes the cube. The priest shrieks but a swift punch knocks him to the ground.
Tim turns around with the daunting task of fighting off thirty odd League members as Damian engages in a deadly battle with his grandfather. He needs to take one of their weapons, that's first. And then-
"Room for more?" Someone calls out. Tim looks past the rushing audience to see the family standing there- Batman, Nightwing, Blackbat and Red Hood. "Wait, why is he wearing a dress?" Dick ponders, pointing at Damian in battle.
"Is that really important right now?" Tim shouts as he dodge rolls out of reach from the first attacker.
Cass tosses him his bo staff. Not his favourite one because that was snapped in half by Ra's, but it will do. Batman barrels through all of them to reach his son's battle. Tim wants to help too, but knows he is of better use here.
Still, they share a longing look across the room that was supposed to be their wedding.
◊
Back home, Bruce makes sure no legal advancements were made of their marriage. When he finds none, that Damian is still Damian Wayne and not Drake (or Al Ghul, for that matter) the teen pretends to be content.
"Aw man, I can't believe I missed seeing you in a dress," Stephanie pouts, stuck between watching Tim at the computer re-watching the footage or Ra's escaping capture and Damian training behind her.
"Tt- Forget it happened. It is not occuring again. I would rather die than marry Drake."
Stephanie just snorts, shaking her head at him.
"Sure sure, babybat."
"Do not call me that!"
She waves him off and begins to head back up stairs, leaving the limbo partners on their own.
Damian stares at the back of Tim's head. I do not want to marry you.
"You looked nice, you know?" Tim suddenly states as he gets to his feet. Damian feels his face flush.
"Shut up," is the only response he has the emotional energy for. They have not exactly spoken since they got back a few hours ago, jut ignored Jason's jokes and Dick's planning for their future.
"I'm being serious."
The teen panics when he realises Tim is actually coming towards him, not following Steph upstairs to leave him in peace.
He goes rigid when Tim stops behind him, chest up against his back. Damian quickly spins around on his heels like he is about to be attacked. He looks up at the older's sharp features, those eyes regarding him softer than usual.
"You looked like you'd make a good wife," he says, leaning down. Damian flinches back does not move. "Soulmate."
Tim kisses his lips so softly that Damian almost can't call it one. His eyes flutter and he hears Tim's retreating steps. They both must feel it; the rush of one in the other. The release of the limbo and the full acceptance of a bond filled with love.
Finally.
Then, with a burning rage, "Why am I the wife!?"