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Damian wasn’t exactly sure when his body had made contact with the ground.
Or better yet, the compacted snow.
The fall had been like that of a dream, unbelievably shocking in some strangely hypnotic way.
He remembered the feeling of free falling, the wind whipping the minimal layers of winter gear he’d been wearing and the fear, the terror of possible death once his body hit the ground.
He remembered feeling oddly light, like his body was equivalent to the weight of a feather, yet his heart felt heavy and palpitated as such, a pulsing panicking rhythm playing in his ears like the soundtrack to a movie scene.
And then… nothing.
Black.
Empty.
Cold.
Or perhaps the cold had more to do with the blizzard and the snow than the lack of recall he has after the actual falling.
Now, he lays in the snow, wind blowing at his face and numb like he’d lost all the mobility in his body.
Damian curled his fingers slowly, squeezing his eyes shut as he gathered the determination to prop himself up from the icy snow.
With a deep breathe, Damian slowly lifted himself up, arms shaking from the effort it took and the all encompassing cold freezing his limbs.
A sharp cry escaped his lips unwillingly and Damian flopped back down uselessly, tears springing to his eyes from the sheer amount of pain.
A stricking pain coursed through his spine at the motion and the boy bit his lip, barely noticing the immediate draw of blood from his mouth.
Worst case scenario, both of his legs were broken and unable to be utilized, leaving him completely stranded and guaranteed to fail the test Grandfather sent him out to complete.
Though the likelihood was not entirely impossible, Damian was pretty sure his legs weren’t broken and that the snow had cushioned his impact enough that with enough will power, he’d be able to continue and complete the mission without any repercussions.
Get up.
Get up .
Complete the mission.
Complete the mission.
With the force of sheer willpower, Damian manages to get back to his feet and continue the climb to the peak of the mountain.
The goal was to reach the top of the top with minimal supplies before midnight. If Damian completed this successfully, he’d be gifted the house mark of The Al Ghul Family, marking him a secure position in what would one day be his empire and declaring greatness within his blood stream.
He had much to prove today.
Too much on the line.
Too much at risk.
He would win.
And he would win today.
The boy continued his way up the mountain, trudging through snow that went up to his knees, squinting in a blizzard of plentiful white in an attempt to find some way of direction.
Every movement came with an electric shock of pain that seemed to travel through his body, making it even more difficult in the current conditions to continue. But Damian plowed ahead, too determined to let some minor injury deter him from the title he was set to claim.
The glory, the purpose; his destiny.
And just as he thought he was beginning to make some progress, his foot caught a patch of ice and he slipped, crashing down and landing a harsh impact.
The pain was almost instantaneous and so was the realization that accompanied the sickening crack that came after.
A strangled scream came from his throat, a wretched, ugly sound that Damian managed to clamp down halfway through.
The boy knew it wasn’t that big of a deal.
It was only a broken a wrist, a bone that could easily be set and healed later on once his task was completed. It shouldn’t have phased him at all.
Yet, the sight of his hand in a completely unnatural position, the absolute agony he felt in that moment was enough to kickstart tears to his eyes.
His heart fluttered in panic, squeezing almost painfully in his chest. Tears ran down his cheeks and Damian felt himself sobbing , shaking from the absolute terror he felt in that moment. Afraid of what would happen once his Grandfather realized Damian wouldn’t make it.
That Damian had failed ; a word that should never be associated with an Al Ghul.
He felt dizzy and lightheaded, sick to his stomach, freezing and numb and in pain. So much pain…
Knowing that it was better to arrive late than not at all, Damian picked himself up.
Bit his tongue, dried his tears, put on a brave face.
Crying was weak.
Crying was unbecoming.
Crying was something an Al Ghul should not do, right next to failing .
But as it turns out, it was a little too late to stick to one of those rules.
Damian made it to the top of the mountain 23 minutes later than he was asked to, shivering and wet, traveling with an aching spine and a broken wrist.
Grandfather only said one word at the sight of his arrival.
And it was accompanied by a brutal shove off the edge of the mountain, a scalding, “ Pathetic.” rolling off his tongue as Damian descended down, down, dow —
“ Ro-. Can…. hear me? Robin!”
Damians eyes snapped open, chest heaving, in shock.
There was someone above him, dressed in vibrant red with a black mask, peering down with a worried yet panicked expression.
“ Thank god…” The person sighed in relief, lending out a gloved hand.
He had long, shaggy raven hair and his skin was as pale as the moon. He was wearing some sort of costume with a golden bird insignia centered on his chest, though Damian wasn’t quite sure what it symbolized.
“ As much as I hate to admit it, you had me worried for a minute there,” He said. “I’m pretty sure Nightwing would’ve kill me if we went back home with some major scars, especially after things went a bit… sour tonight.”
“ Uhh…”, Damian stared at the strangers outstretched hand and masked face, trying for the life of him to remember this… Nightwing or the masked creep standing in front of him.
“ Sorry, do I know you?”
All the stranger could do was stand there in shock, a cold realization washing over him like that of a tidal wave.
And Damian simply stared, completely ignorant of the power those words held.