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Part 7 of Otherworlds - A Tim Drake Special , Part 14 of (un)Woven threads of Dimension and Time
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S.T.I.L.L., All my favs
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Published:
2022-05-21
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2022-05-21
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2,543
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2/2
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A League Interlude - Where Loyalty Meets Death and Walks Away

Summary:

Starring Ra’s, the flabbergasted Demon’s head; Talia, the overjoyed(?) mother; and Damian Wayne, who has apparently taken the teasing Tim taught him to a whole new level.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: I am not alone / And I shall not go your way

Summary:

Damian goes to visit his Grandfather. He takes a sword with him (as he should).

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ra’s was not often outside his throne room, only taking the time to leave when he needed a dip in the Lazarus pit or a chance to destroy the Waynes. 

The Waynes. He did not like the Waynes, especially the ungrateful abomination who was the fourth eldest. 

Of course, it did not help that the child was unbearably intelligent. Certainly much more than Bruce Wayne, and possibly just as much as himself. He had gotten one over the proxy Ra’s had set up for him - He had decided to completely rehaul his systems after the unfortunate… incident. At the very least, he was now aware of the loopholes in his security and could address them more fully in building the League back up - and consequently destroyed many important bases all over the world.

Ra’s was both disgusted at the unfortunate lack of obedience and intrigued at the willfulness that even Bruce had not successfully implemented during his stay with the league. 

In fact, he was almost happy he had allowed Damian to leave for his father, for it had allowed Ra’s to see there were far more viable candidates for his renewal. One far more viable candidate. 

Regardless, the fact of the matter was that he had disavowed Damian Al Ghul, which the child most certainly knew, no matter how deluded he might be regarding his capabilities. 

So what was he doing sitting in his throne when Ra’s returned from a designated renewal in the pit? 

Eyes cold, the immortal stared at the boy who sat straight-backed but otherwise relaxed, one hand curled loosely around his sword and the other laying harmlessly on the armrest. 

The two assassins who guarded this room from the inside (not his best, unfortunately, but there was a certain shortage the League had yet been unable to recover from) knocked out in the corner. Ra’s would have to teach them a lesson once this child was dealt with. And perhaps the ones outside, if that was indeed the direction the boy came from, though he doubted it. The boy was not as strong to handle the twenty assassins, even of the mediocre quality they were for now.

“Grandfather,” Damian greeted, and there was something a little touching in his eyes. 

Ra’s frowned. “Grandson,” He replied in turn. “Where are your manners? You are not allowed in here.”

Damian did not flinch. 

Ra’s wondered how the Bat had improved his teaching methods, for the boy had not been this strong-willed when he had last seen him.

“I hear you are evil here, Grandfather,” Damian continued, ignoring his words.

Ra’s narrowed his eyes. “So this is how they poison your ears, Damian? My own grandson turned against me. This is certainly what the Bat would do.”

“Of course,” The boy said, once again as if Ra’s had not spoken, but looking him straight in the eyes nonetheless. “You are not the hero here as you were… elsewhere.”

Ra’s frowned, not speaking, partly because it was obviously going to be ignored - he must send someone to teach this child manners. Even Timothy did not deign to ignore his presence - and partly because the child was not making sense. That would explain his insolence; he was obviously not in his right mind.

“Nevertheless,” Damian said loudly, hopping off the throne and pulling his sword out of the sheath. “I felt the need to come here and inform you of a few important points.”

Ra’s raised his eyebrows. He did not feel any killing intent from the child, so obviously he was not here for any lasting damage. Not that his father would let him, of course, but that was one foolishness Ra’s did not care to cure, for it was that morality which allowed him to revive day after day, much like every other enemy of the Waynes.

(One foolishness he hoped to cure Timothy of, but only once he came under Ra’s influence. How to best do so–?)

Damian cleared his throat. “You are not to come near Timothy Drake-Wayne.”

Ra’s became the slightest bit more interested. “Oh? And whyever not?”

“He is my brother,” Damian explained, his tone that of one explaining something particularly simple to grade schoolers. 

Ra’s ignored the derogation, if only because it was not, as Damian was trying to portray, that simple. “My informants tell me you loathe the child,” He said bluntly.

Damian looked taken aback, then his eyes widened. “Oh,” He said, and there was something odd there that Ra’s could not comprehend. “Yes, well,” He pursed his lips. “That has changed.”

“And why would that even matter in the first place?” Ra’s demanded. “I am the Demon’s Head. Why should I pay heed to such pointless demands?”

Damian blinked and tilted his head in the most innocent way possible. “Because, Grandfather,” He said, and his voice was silky, much like Ra’s tended to make his own when desiring to unnerve his opponents to a most disturbing extent, but a version which was utterly unnerving only because Ra’s had never even thought to teach it to the child, nor had he ever used it in his presence. “I was once your heir and I still hold the skills that made the title mine.” He took one innocuous step forward. “Harm my brother - any of my brothers - and I will rip your throat from your body and bury it in the deepest corner of the earth where no immortal soul dares to tread and no Lazarus pit to save you.” He glared. “I am not the Batman, Grandfather. While I heed his instructions and take no life, make no mistake. I am still capable of doing so.”

And then, leaving Ra’s dumbfounded for the first time in a long era, he spun on his feet and walked to a point behind the two collapsed bodies of the assassin guards, where he stopped for just one last second. “Oh, and I do suggest you take Tim’s advice and cede the League to the far more capable hands of either my mother or my aunt. I hear they are very good at management.”

Then he ducked and disappeared.

Ra’s allowed himself to gape.

(How had the Bat turned his grandson into a fearsome warrior that challenged even him?

... Though, to be fair, the Bat had trained Timothy, too.)

Notes:

So. It doesn't actually have a fight - Ra's is fresh from the Lazarus pit and Damian doesn't have enough experience to beat him anyway (?) so didn't bother.
But Damian does have the experience to sneak around the League headquarters, thank you very much.

Chapter 2: Trembling in your hold / Waiting for you to turn away

Summary:

Damian meets up with Talia and gets suspicion and hugs. Not necessarily at the same time.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Talia did not visit her son a lot. It was more to do with the fact that she belonged to a highly child-unfriendly community that tended to murder people than any desire on her own part. 

Though the guilt that came with seeing Damian was certainly not helping things.

Still, whenever League business brought her to Gotham’s vicinity, she took the time to watch her child from afar, and in very rare cases, from close up with the permission of his father.

However, what she did not expect, one auspicious night, as she watched her son jump away in that disastrous Robin costume and disappear into the darkness, was a voice to startle her one step to the right. A voice she was not expecting to hear because the owner of the voice had been nearly a mile away from her just seconds ago.

“Good evening, Mother,” Damian said, standing at her side with a smile that was much kinder than she would have expected of her son.

And his clothes…

She narrowed her eyes. “You are not Damian,” She concluded.

The fake Damian hummed. “Timothy was correct,” He said. “You would make a much better leader of the League than Grandfather here.”

Talia was flattered. “Why have you taken the image of my son?” She asked, pointing a knife at the boy. “Are you Batman’s villain? Or a martian seeking to find yourself in my good graces?”

He frowned. “You are certainly cautious,” He muttered. “But that is understandable.” He stepped back and bowed in the perfect style she had taught Damian in his younger years. “I am not Clayface,” He said, straightening up. “Nor am I the Martian Manhunter. I am Damian Al Ghul-Wayne, and I belong to a sister dimension to this one.”

Talia laughed dryly. “And I am just supposed to believe you?”

He sighed and looked away. “I suppose not,” He said wistfully. “I merely wanted to… see you, mother.”

Talia’s heart wavered, but she did not loosen her stance. “That is what any good copycat would say.”

Damian nodded. “I am aware,” He said. “But I am not here to force your hand,” He said. “In fact, I would- I would appreciate it if you were to keep this meeting between us.”

He seemed to realize the absurdity of the statement perhaps a second after Talia did, for he muttered something uncouth in Arabic under his breath (staying true to the character, she supposed), and jumped away, vanishing before Talia could decide on giving chase.

 What she did decide, however, was that a meeting with Bruce was suddenly an important part of her visit.

—

“Hello, beloved,” Talia greeted as Bruce entered his bedroom. She was sprawled on his bed, relaxing. 

Bruce did not so much as react with a twitch. “Talia,” He said. “Get out of my room.”

“After I have come all this way?” She pouted. “How unkind.”

Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am not in the mood, Talia. Why are you here?”

Talia stood up and stepped away from the bed, coming to stare at the man with a dark gaze. “When did I first tell you about Damian?” She asked. 

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “What is this about?”

“Precaution,” She deflected. “Now answer, beloved, or I fear my knife might slip.”

Bruce shook his head. “Then are you asking about when you were pregnant and pretended to miscarry or when you left him with me when he was ten?”

Talia’s expression smoothed out. “Both,” She said.

“Now will you tell me what this is all about?” Batman-Bruce growled, far more ready to step into work than Talia would like.

Talia shrugged. “I fear there’s a shapeshifter around. He took the image of Damian to lull me into a false sense of security.” 

Bruce frowned.

“He claimed to be from another dimension, which was obviously a ploy-” At that, Bruce grunted, and Talia snapped her head up to look at him, and sighed because he was the slightest bit uncomfortable. And she knew exactly what that meant. “You have access to another dimension,” She deduced. “In truth.”

“Hmm.”

“And there is another version of my child out here.” Her eyes narrowed to a glare. “And you failed to inform me.”

Bruce looked away. “It was not pertinent at the time,” He said, which alone made Talia want to scream at him. “And Damian was not supposed to be here tonight.”

“But he is?”

“... Yes,” Bruce agreed. “Alfred found him in the kitchen and requested he stay over. He was… willing to comply until his father came to pick him up tomorrow.”

Talia’s heart skipped a beat. Another Bruce, another Damian. Did this perhaps mean there were countless? Ones where she did not disappoint the child so much? Ones where she was able to care for him? Ones, perhaps, where she ended up the leader of the league and was much more likely to support Damian? And perhaps even ones where she and her Beloved raised him together?

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Where is he?” She asked.

Bruce scowled. “He is asleep.”

“I only want to look!” She said. “I only ever look, and you are well aware of that!” She inhaled sharply. “He is my son.”

Bruce hesitated, but his eyes were softening.

“Please, Beloved,” She begged, not above using the wiles she had at her disposal. 

Bruce sighed. “Very well,” He said gruffly. “That version of Damian is resting in a room next to Tim’s.” He raised an eyebrow. “You know where that is?”

Talia gave a nod and vanished out the door. She did wonder why the boy was not sleeping next to his own counterpart, and why next to the brother her son most assuredly liked least, but it was less important than the fact that she had to see him, confirm with her very eyes-

She stopped in front of a non-auspicious door, deciding on her course of action.

It swung open. “I can hear your breathing from-” Damian began, voice annoyed, and then realized who stood in front of him. “Mother,” He said, voice breathless. “I did not…” He trailed off.

Talia took one look at him and swept him in one quick embrace. “Damian,” She said. “I hear you belong to a different world.”

Damian bit his lip but nodded jerkily and invited her inside. “Yes,” He said.

“How interesting. I did not expect them to exist.”

Damian shrugged.

“You said I would make a better leader than the current Demon’s head. Am I, in your world…?”

Damian shook his head vigorously. “That is not exactly the case, mother.” He hesitated. “Timothy told me that you would make a good leader.” Talia noted that little tidbit down for future use. Apparently, the current preferred heir to the League saw her as a good enough alternative. “I merely began to agree when I visited grandfather a few days ago.”

Talia’s eyes widened. “Is that the reason why the Demon’s Head has been so irritable as of late?”

Damian began to smile. “I have managed to affect Grandfather? That is truly momentous.”

Talia hummed. “He is not alive in your world.”

Damian startled. “How did you-?”

Talia shook her head. “And I assume I am not in the picture, either.”

Damian started, mouth slightly agape. 

Talia smiled. “A mother’s instinct, Habibi ,” She said. “But it is also because you are much too precocious. Your counterpart is a little more… repressed, you could say.”

“Oh,” Damian. “I had not attributed it to that.”

“Other factors most likely play a role,” She agreed.

Damian swallowed. “Mother,” He said. “I love you.”

Talia smiled, knelt down, and pulled the child into yet another hug, deciding it was time she went and met her own son as well. But after this. “And I you,” She replied. “You may not be the child I raised, but you remain my son.”

Damian’s lower lip quivered, but he did not cry. “Thank you,” He said. “I told Grandfather to make you head.”

That startled a laugh out of her. “I see,” She said. “Unfortunately, such a singular experience would not likely change my father’s mind, but I commend you for trying.” She caressed his face, then laid one kiss on his forehead. “And I am much obliged that you consider me a better option for the leader of the League.”

Damian shrugged and stepped back, the tips of his ears turning red. “It’s true,” He said. “I do not know about Aunt Nyssa, who Tim said could be an alternative other than you, but you, mother, discovered I was not the Damian of this world within seconds while Grandfather never did.”

Searching Damian’s face for any sign of a lie, Talia smiled. “A mother’s instincts,” She reminded him. “But I’ll take the compliment.” And perhaps use it to my advantage, but who even is on my father’s side these days?

Notes:

And here you have it! An ending to a short League of Assassins fic that isn't particularly as gory as it could be. Huh.

Notes:

I wanted an excuse to write Damian feels and here they are! Hope you like it.