Chapter Text
Damian was marked a soldier on the wake of his first birthday, the water tainted his fate with the writings of familiar hands and his blood became alight with purpose and sorrow. The heir of the Al Ghul linage was commemorated in a ceremony one could only describe as a crowning. His training started shortly after his first steps.
Ra’s Al Ghul could not be considered kind by any who had met him. An ostentatious figure standing steady almost a millennium since his birth was but a myth in modern times, but in his own empire he was feared, respected and worshiped. The man, however, was as well a father; if not a great one a present one. His guiding hand stood firm in the shoulders of his many daughters, but not one was cherished like Talia. With the birth of Damian, he stood stronger, determined to ensure the safety of his own legacy.
Peace had graced the League of Shadows for years after it. Nanda Parbat had become a fortress, impenetrable and sturdy, the capital had turned into a palace, a museum holding the Al Ghul dynasty. Damian had lowered his guard, they all had. Safety is a heady thing, taking over your judgment with promises of comfort and foreverness when it is but a mirage.
Deathstroke had struck at midnight. It had been an efficient and brutal operation. The causalities hadn’t been disclosed to him, but Damian had been raised to be a better outcome than the mixture of his parts, he knew what the sombre solidarity in his escape team meant.
His grandfather had fallen.
For as long as he had been alive, Damian had never considered that a possibility. Death seemed like such a marvel of a concept in his family.
It was real now, he could see it in the way his mother held herself like a bow ready to strike, they were being hunted. The route had been set for Gotham. They would survive this as well; as the blood of the Demon there was no other option.
The news wouldn’t take long to reach the rest of the League. Shortly after landing in Gotham docks, his mother had been able to intrude on the line of communication of his father’s associates. His father had been compromised with his civilian identity’s responsibilities, a phony yielded his cape and reputation in his stead, accompanied by two adolescent shadows. An unnamed woman fed them information through their communication network, his father tunning in ever so often to supervise the affairs.
“Oracle, I am being contacted about an anomaly regarding the League of Shadows, find all you can on them soon.” The radio called on their way to the last known location of the Red Hood. His mother shared a small smirk with him, revelling in catching his father off guard even in times like this.
“Nanda Parbat has been abandoned for a month now, B, reports say it has fallen. There is no information on any of the Al Ghul’s current location. And well-no. It might have been an inside job. Rumours of Ra’s death are going rampant but there is no proof, no cameras, no survivors.”
“What does that mean for us, B? Think she might come to you about it?”
Damian didn’t get to hear the ending of the exchange for they had reached their destination sooner than thought.
The safe house was sombre, the air rushed in loudly as the door unlocked giving the impression of opening a tomb. Scattered empty microwave-dinner plates and used medical equipment decorated the atmosphere. The smell of stale air, humidity and rotting food made Damian feel lightheaded, he wondered if their information had been wrong when the door of the bedroom creaked.
With a gun to his head Damian fought the urge to startle, his brother was still deadly even in the state that had led him to this scene.
“These are despicable living conditions, dearest” His mother murmured, an eye on the exists, one could never be too sure in their line of work. Jason had proved himself trustworthy, his grandfather often described him to be as loyal as a dog, but it had been long since they last knew of him.
“Talia. Ya’ didn’t call.”
“Oh, apologies dear, we were not in a condition to do so. In trying times like this my only hope had been to see my children safe.” The tone was soft but cutting, assessing perhaps. His brother was in a pitiful state. Unkempt facial hair and sunken eyes and cheeks.
“Cut the crap, how come they let ya’ out the castle with the imp-head. Granny’ wouldn’t let him out his sights last I saw ya’.” There was a rasp to his voice, like he had gone hoarse screaming.
“So, you didn’t hear then?”
“Hear what?”
“Mm, my beloved knows by now and yet you remain unaware. Gotham has made you soft already, dearest?” Concentrating all his attention on a single point to keep his temper down, as he had learned, Damian caught sight of it. A red gash of a barely scabbed wound across his brother’s throat. Damian felt pressure ringing on his ears, his jaw had locked, and he was doing his best to keep quiet while the elders talked but the situation was just unacceptable.
“I don’t have time for this, Talia. Tell me whatcha’ doin’ here, and what ya’ need of me now. No point in all this, now is there?” His mother had advanced towards them the second Jason put the gun down, but Damian could tell the moment she caught real sight of him. She took both of them in a quiet embrace and the TV lit up unprompted. Damian let his breath out in relief once he could get a hold of their pulses, this entire month had been destabilizing, wearing down on his joints like he carried the tear of a man much older.
“Mm. This city has not been kind to you.”
“No place like home, Talia. There is no place like Gotham.”
“Perhaps that’s for the better, dear. I—I fear I bring unpleasant news.”
“Spit it out, wont ya’, if it’s a problem we aint’ got time to waste.” Jason stepped back then, standing taller than before. He had known his brother was a sentimental fool, but seeing the effects a little comfort could have on him, Damian considered indulging him more often.
“Father has fallen.”
Silence still struck. Even after knowing it for a while, Damian still froze at the statement, there was nothing more chilling than the proof of mortality for a family like his.
“Don’t fuck w’ me, Talia, it aint’ funny.”
“It is fact, Jason, I saw him die.”
“Ahki” Damian interrupted before Jason could argue further “it is true. Nanda Parbat has fallen; we are being hunted.” It was unlike him to forgone decorum, perhaps that’s why his brother was subdued immediately, always so quick to fight but docile when needed.
Before any answer could be given, a sound across the street had them tense up. Damian was tired of crisis, although he had been a spectacularly gifted fighter, his first mission was not scheduled until, at least, two more years. His grandfather used to say it would take another ten years before he was half as good as his father on the field, turns out he was right.
Jason fired two warning shots at the windowsill and before they started moving. Safety was sorely missed.
They had been walking for hours by the time they reached their destination; the dawn was to catch them soon. Jason didn’t look much better in clear lightning, and sharing a look with his mother, Damian knew she had noticed him limping as well.
“Ivy is locked up right now, so her base must be empty, no one tries this place ’cause the plants aint’ much nicer when she aint’ here, but I used to visit her in Arkham when I was younger, so I know all the tricks.” Explained his brother as he guided them through Gotham’s inner-city jungle, a local Meta’s creation. Even as Jason made use of “the tricks”, he was struggling deeply, his mother was tense with the effort as well. It seemed almost suspicious for the path to open for him, roots clinging to his boots almost playfully. Damian assumed the supernatural nature of their creation was to blame, but refused to comment on it, lest it slow them down further.
“Slade Willson has taken over the League’s operations, apparently determined to make good on my father’s promise of heirship. I fear for Damian’s safety, dear. It is my belief he will be safest with his father.” Had explained his mother softly upon reaching the greenhouse-base. His brother had flinched at the mention of father, and had occupied himself with second, and third checking the security of the base in lieu of answering.
Just as Damian attempted to untangle the still moving plants from his boots, the sound of his brother’s voice rumbled in their silence. “Bruce is not—I don’t. I don’t think it’d be for the best.” He spoke slow but uncertain, absently tracing over the wound on his throat.
His mother had frowned at the motion, carefully approaching him. “I gather he was unable to rid us of him then?” The words a soft whisper only audible in the stillness of dawn.
“You knew he wouldn’t, no?”
“I had hoped he would see reason, but perhaps my judgment of him has always been more hopeful than assessing.” The certainty in her tone didn’t hide her regret. “I am sorry my dear boy, it was cruel of me to send you unaccompanied, I had wanted you to find closure on your terms, I was negligent.”
“Don’t matter, it’s done now. Point is, he can’t keep Damian safer than you could, he’d be in a robin suit by tonight.”
“My father had hoped for him to take over the Bat eventually, would it not be best this way?”
“He is a little prince, Talia. Gotham will eat him by dawn.”
“I’ll have you know he is a prodigy, the blood of the Bat and the Demon, he is to be extraordinary, nothing your meek town could take down, surely.”
“Don’t doubt it, I taught him too, remember? He has plenty of time to grow into it, allow him some more years of peace, won’t ya?”
The conversation started slipping from him, as Damian settled in the base, on a meek corner where plants had congregated, cushioning his restless body.
“—suggest?”
“I don’t—Talia, it won’t work. I aint’ got time for—no of course, but—yes—no—that’s unfair. Children have died on that costume! —Sure! Anything but that.”
Closing his eyes Damian only managed to catch glimpses of arguing bodies. His last memory before falling under was of his mother gently kissing his forehead goodbye.
On the day of his tenth birthday, his grandfather had approached Damian with a story of his father. It had been the first time he had heard his name not title been uttered. Bruce Wayne, who would grow up to become the Batman, had reached Nanda Parbat at the last stage of his training. After having exhausted all other lawful teachers on martial arts, weaponry, and stealth, his father had plead to be taught. His grandfather had offer to house him and train him shall he pass a single challenge.
Ten nights and nine days his father would have to survive the climb to the base through the jungle, with the two youngest shadows on site, if he were to defeat them and reach him on the tenth night, his grandfather would make him his personal apprentice. He had cheated, including his own daughter on the entourage, secure in the knowledge she would dispose of him. In a way both of them had been tested then, and while Damian’s father succeeded, Talia Al Ghul met her greatest weakness to date.
“The detective was viciously clever, yet stubbornly gentle. He arrived on the tenth night, with my Talia fast asleep on his arms, and a shadow subdued but alive draped over his back. He claimed it would be extremely wasteful to rid us of already trained individuals since he had gathered our numbers had dwindled with the last big operation that had led him to us.” Had said his grandfather to him. “I had hoped to do well by him, teach him my ways and have him carry down my legacy. He is far too soft, even know. You will be better, extraordinary were he fell short, and stronger were he is weak.”
The story was not new to Damian. Since he is able to form memories, he had heard the retelling of it from his mother, a gentle caress on slow nights. She had remembered the story with much more clarity, claiming often to have known he would leave from the moment they met.
“This mission, it does not frighten you. Is it blind loyalty? Are you willing to lay your life like prey for a simpleton’s quest?” Had said his father to her, in the confidence of dawn.
“I serve a purpose as we all do, no? To deny us preparation for the world, wouldn’t that be crueller?”
“What worth is to be prepared if one is not alive to use the knowledge?”
“Some sacrifices will be made. It is the burden of a ruler to decide what wrongs to allow for the good to prevail.”
“The town of Trukhyu, south of Quraci?”
“Pardon?”
“It is where I followed you from. A farming town, it sustained the capital. Thousands will starve, and thousands already dead. Civilians. Children. Has their sacrifice allowed any good?”
“Their State has become far too volatile. They are a nuisance to their neighbour countries. When a forest grows too wild, a purging fire is but a kindness.”
“There is no kindness in death, Talia.”
“Is it so? You don’t see value in their army destabilized? They’ve taken multiple lives and are unmanageable. They had caused infernal war. Would it not be a kindness to humanity to not have them suffer through them? If they were spared, they’d be killed regardless. It is human to ensure our survival, to fight back.”
“At the price of innocents? Families broken apart, generations wiped out, knowledge lost, they will never recover.”
They had talked in circles for days, both far too proud to concede defeat.
“My father is not a kind man, Bruce. But he is a determined one. He wishes something better for humanity. Not unlike yourself.”
“You love him.”
“Of course.”
“More than this world?”
“Is it really that surprising? The human heart is a vicious thing, capable of making the kindest of men into mercenaries. I had believed you knew it just as well.”
“Loving that fiercely is not a privilege I can afford, Talia. My wish cannot be fulfilled without clarity.”
“You really do wish to change the world, no?”
“There is no changing the world, I can only hope to help.”
Damian had assumed those words had meant his father was a man so compassionate he had made his life’s mission to serve humanity, that he had grown up to be a warrior no one could stop in his crusade to save the world. He had been mistaken. His father was the angel of death, chained to his principles he would be dragged by the world to his own demise.
“Wake up, kid, we must get going.”
The sun was to set soon by the time Damian woke up next, he hadn’t rested this much since the falling of the palace. The decision had been taken for him; his mother was long gone. Damian complied, he knew and respected Jason, his father was but an idolized stranger.
“My operations will be handed by a close command guard of mine, we are leaving to Blud tonight, its less surveilled and my subsidiary is just getting established there.” Damian stood up slowly, it was a routine really, a well-worn patter. Back in the League Jason would take him out in impromptu travels all the time, settling down on any island to wait for his grandfather to find them.
“Deathstroke’s operations started there, it will be smart to start our investigation on his home-town.” Approved Damian.
“No—what? No kid. We are going into hiding, that fucker put ya’ granny six feet under you aint’ goin’ nowhere near him.”
“Akhi! This is preposterous, the blood of the Demon doesn’t hide! It is my empire now, I will bring the enemies of the League down as I was taught to do.”
“Katas aint’ got cut it with these bastards, kid. You wanna’ lead an empire? Ya’ gonna’ have to be alive to do it. No—no more discussion. Talia left you w’ me and you will listen. Your mom is taking care of it. No need to fuss now.”
“Tsk.”
“Yeah, yeah, you a big boy now let’s go.”
With a last huff Damian went to follow. They journeyed through the city through a path Damian imagines rats took very often, underground segments, jungle patches, and sneaking into boats and dirty alleyways.
Bludhaven was not any cleaner than Gotham, it was a carcass of a once metropolitan city. Damian reminisced about the clean smell of amber and wood in an escapist state, he imagined the soft silk of his sleeping garments as he stepped on an unidentified liquid, and held onto the soft lullabies the maids would hum as they helped him clean up when the city got too curt and brusque.
A black and blue shadow followed them from the rooftops, Damian felt eyes on his back. His brother had them walking in labyrinth patterns trying to lose it, shoulders up and muscles tense, he was a predator ready to strike. Damian kept his head down, wracking his brain for a word of wisdom imparted onto him for situations as this, he returned empty-handed.
Damian was a prodigy, he was supposed to know better, to be better, to rise above. He had been bred for excellency like one would with a show horse, he was a product, an investment, he was failing miserably at all of it.
The shadow fell with a light tap behind them. Jason reached for him, placing himself between Damian and the now visible man.
“B is looking for you, Hood. Says you’ve got yourself caught in some shady stuff.” It was a commanding tone, soft on the edges, Jason didn’t seem uneasy, but he was tense, hiding Damian behind his back.
“Shadier than taking over Gotham’s drug trade? Shadier than severed heads?” Jason’s tone was accusatory and arrogant, like a child challenging a punishment, it made Damian cautious.
“They spotted you with Talia, J. Some kid, and a renowned assassin running away from an international-crisis crime scene running to you—the old man, Agent A, even Oracle, we don’t know what to think of it.”
“I’m responsible for all wrong doings worldwide now?” Damian saw his brother reach for his holster, an escape plan in the making.
“No! J, it’s just—like –we just got you back—won’t you? —why can’t you just let us –like help? I can help, yes. Let me help, whatever crap Talia wants you to do, we’ll find a way out of it.”
“Didn’t they tell ya’? I’m not approved company, golden boy. I’m in no trouble, no gun to my head. Talia and I’s business don’t mean nothing to your lot, so stay out of it.” With a little sign learned over years of companionship, Jason gave him notice of their escape route. Damian started his way out of sight hoping his brother’s anger and speech would deter attention off him.
“Jay—please, I want to help, no bullshit attached. You still want to do good; I know you, just let us--” A light tap of his feet against a puddle, Damian cursed internally as Jason moved to cover him further. “I don’t want to do this, J. Just so you know.” Says the man before reaching for his wrist, sending a message to headquarters.
Showing his teeth at the action his brother pounces, his entire weight thrown at the man like a projectile. The man dances around him, jumping and swiping as if not affected by gravity, it’s not enough, his brother is fighting mean, teeth and claws out like a rabid animal. Damian makes a valiant effort to blend into the shadows, keep out of Jason’s way and out of grabbing distance from the stranger in spandex.
His brother was a formidable fighter, at his best when protecting his family, yet even while winning Damian heard his grandfather’s voice in his head, correcting form and intent, Jason fought in offensive always, especially when cornered, he lacked perspective solely focused on a target like prey. The man was not as skilled, too soft in his techniques to really pose a threat, but he was smart, smarter than his brother, an intelligent glint on his eyes as he predicted movements, moved through the wind around him, always just a step forward.
Damian needed to intervene soon, Jason and he were best fighters together than separate. He sneaked behind him as the man was pushed out of the alleyway. A pointed kick at the back of the man’s knee bought them time, Jason took the opening to flee grabbing him by the scruff like a stray.
The man followed behind like a shadow, cutting corners like only a local could. Just as they thought to have outrun him a different shadow formed in front of them.
Almost running it over, Jason held them to a stop abruptly. Before any word could be uttered a throwing weapon was launched their way, Damian could barely recognize the shape as the denture’s reliefs on his brother’s throat when the weapon turned directions mid-air, impaling itself on a nearby brick wall.
“Hn.” Murmured confused the shadow, before advancing on them.
The Batman was a fairytale creature, sharp and dark, Damian imagined it was most effective with the superstitious as he ignored his own trembling. They were subdued shortly after.
His brother had set camp no further than two meters away from Damian, once in the manor. Most of the attention was brought down on Jason, he kept on screaming, gesturing wildly, picking fights with anyone who got too close, he paced around him like a caged animal. Jason had encouraged him to fall asleep almost as soon as they had reached the cave, Damian guessed it was the subtle protection of being in the Bat’s territory.
He closed his eyes, but was unable to catch any sleep, jittery with the uncertainty, nerves taut in place of his brother. When a wheeled chair approached the room, he relaxed his frame to deceive the intruder.
“Jay—how—how are you? We didn’t get to talk before.” Says a voice Damian recognizes as one of his father’s associates, Oracle.
“Hnf, yeah not a lot of talking when being detained, thought ya’d have sent me to the loony-house by now.” Responded his brother, in a much gentler tone, one usually reserved for mother and him. Damian wondered what this woman was to Jason with a little scrunch of his eyebrows.
“No, no, of course not. We just—we were worried. Tim found some stuff about Ra’s, we were worried you were in over your head, jumping at helping someone you believe worth saving like you always do.”
“Ah, ya’ know me so well then. And since the lil’ replacement decided I was conspirin’ we just oughta’ cage me then.” Even in an accusatory tone, his voice didn’t raise at all.
“God, Jay, no. We just worry, fuck—I worry—don’t care much what they are doing, I care, I missed you, and I was worried.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. God, Jay when he said you were back, I almost went insane, I haven’t spent a day since you’ve been back without thinking of you. I hadn’t thought I’d get the chance of seeing you grow up.”
“I didn’t think—I. I wasn’t sure you’d care.”
“What—no. Jay no matter these fuckers you and I are family, from the moment I first met you, half your height and twice your audacity you have been my little brother. Life has taken many things from me, Jay, I am not one to turn away a miracle.”
“But—what about—I’m not that kid anymore, Barbie.” It was disconcerting to hear his brothers voice so unsure.
“No matter, to get to know you again is a privilege I didn’t think I’d get.”
There were more things to discuss between them, Damian knew, as young as he was, he had been Jason’s confidant for far too long now to not know that sentiments of that kind were never quite as simple in the Bat’s family. Nonetheless, they settled in silent companionship, basking in each other’s presence for the time being.
“One more thing, Jay. The kid.”
“No.” And it was final, the shift in atmosphere immediate, his brother always protecting his back.
“What?”
“I’m sure you’ve been briefed, think I’d forgotten the tricks? Talia left him in my protection and there is where he will stay.”
“Jay—you’re still months short of eighteen, don’t you think, maybe—”
“No.”
“He is his dad. Does that not count for anything?”
“And what a dad he is! I love this kid, Barbie, I’m not just gonna’—what? Leave him here? Let Bruce do what he does best and wake up one morning to the news that he is dead!”
The conversation had escalated quickly, Damian struggled more and more to continue to appear asleep, the urge to offer comfort to his brother, to take responsibility for this, to defend his mortality, to make it stop. The chandelier flickered in and out.
“It doesn’t need to be like that! We will be here! It will be different.”
“Barbara don’t be naïve; he will go on to become one more of the kids Bruce employs to sneak into tiny vents he can't fit himself into in less than a week.”
And just before an answer could be given there was light knock on the open door, a light murmur between all parts and then Damian was being lifted and moved.
He was taken to meet his father then, properly this time. He was to be acknowledged, he wondered about the specifics of the rite as he was transported, ignoring the frustrated muttering of his brother as he pondered over the fact that he didn’t remember the Al Ghul heirship rite, hadn’t been conscious enough to do so at less than a year old, so many memories of his family lost to the nature of childhood.
Entering the Batcave was irritatingly more impressive on a second meeting than the first, Damian hoped the amazement would be gone by the next time, unwilling to indulge such childish distractions. His father sat at the head of an imposingly tall table, an eerie atmosphere native to the terrain set the scene of a ruler’s gothic portrait.
“He is Talia’s.” Started his father, a morose temper perceptible on his tone.
“He is also yours.” Reminded him the woman from before, bright red hair out of place in the scene.
“He is also here, Damian, given that this is a matter of your concern, you must indulge us with your input.” The formal tone aided Damian in finding the social expectations of the interaction, it would be improper of him to intervene under normal circumstances, but given the urgency folded in the words of his brother, he thought it appropriate. He took a step forward, his brother’s hand on his back in a much-appreciated grounding gesture.
“I am Damian Al Ghul, Prince Ghazi Heir to the Head of the Demon. I am son of Princess Talia Al Ghul, and renowned warrior Bruce Wayne, the Batman. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Father. And it is my honour to be presented to you and your entourage.” The room was held captive by his speech, a slight tremor of horror in their eyes at the names of his most loved ones, with a last courtesy Damian retreated by his brother’s side, willing to intervene at a moment’s notice.
“When.”
“Ya’ really think the kid knows when he was conceived? He is 10. You do the math.”
“Dick must’ve been recently adopted.”
“Look, the record’s clean, you’ve got your proof he’s been prod and probed enough, it is fact, no? So just get on w’ it. What ya’ plannin’ to do ’bout it?” Jason’s tone didn’t weaver, but Damian recognised the tremor on the hand on his own back for what it was, they were at the mercy of the Bat.
“Hn.”
“Cryptic fucker. No—if you don’t wanna’ fuck w’ this that’s fine, I’ll take the kid, get outta’ my way.” With his head still held high Damian made to follow his brother out, hoping to delay whatever his brother was dreading to see happen.
“You will do no such thing, Master Jason.” Father’s courtier said softly but firmly, in that quiet tone of authority Damian’s own grandfather was so proficient at.
“You helped raise him; the records say so. I do not intend on separating you both.”
“Ah, extortion, just lovely! This is the Batman way everybody! All crime is game so long as ya’ do it under his supervision!” They could see right through him just like Damian did, it was alarming. No longer could he distract them of him. They had been stripped of their tricks, truly vulnerable to the hand of a strange man Damian had been raised to replace and surpass.
“Jay, stop. He is Bruce’s and that’s that. You willing to be here or not.” Damian wanted to gauge the man’s eyes out, he should’ve broken his knee. To think his own brother would ever choose a side but his was short of a slight on their family name, his mother would be appalled.
“You will behave under the Justice League’s moral code and renounce any effort against any known hero. If, and only if you are to comply with these conditions, I will have no problem allowing you on his life.” His mother had chosen a weak man. His grandfather had needn’t to worry, Damian would be more than capable of claiming his birthright.
“Fine.” His brother said, grounding his teeth. Damian had no doubt of his conviction, his brother was a man best known for his loyalty.
A silence overtook them as his father’s team managed their surprise.
“Just like that? He caused a city-wide riot to prove a point, and he just gives up like this? This is insane. None of you actually believe him, right?” protested the youngest of his father’s council.
The men of the team were stupid, in simple words. Damian had no idea how they had managed to misunderstand his brother this bad. The woman stood silent, but with a knowing glint on her eye, confirming his suspicions of their close bond. “Damian, is this deal okay with you?” She asked after having met eyes. He mulled over his response carefully, hoping to achieve a diplomatic answer.
“I would prefer Akhi to have his full autonomy, but I don’t doubt his judgement, if he has decided to comply, then I will follow suit.”
The meeting got dismissed then, his father didn’t approach him, and neither did he him. His brother remained silent after the fact, but within arms-reach. The crowd dispersed slowly, the many members of his father’s team sparked conversation with him little by little, he was being a perfect prince, his mother would be proud, he could even see the glimpse of amusement on Jason’s eyes at his great manners knowing his true thoughts, they had always been able to divine each other’s thoughts like that.
It had been a calm for half an hour before the peace was disturbed. To be fair, it hadn’t been entirely the other faction’s fault, his brother had lost control of his temper, just before he himself did, vocalizing Damian’s rage for him as he often did in formal settings where he himself was not to.
Richard, the man who had taken them under custody, had introduced himself to him with great friendliness, Damian had taken him at face value, assuming he was simply acting under orders as most shadows did, in retrospect that had been his first mistake. His brother had tensed in Richard’s presence, but Damian had assumed it was a matter of personal grievances between them, he had been unprepared for the words that had left the man’s mouth shortly after.
“I’m sure you’ll love it here, lil’ dude. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must’ve been like to be raised in such a cruel environment. Whatever that—Talia did to you, rest assured it will not be happening here.” Worst thing was, Damian was almost completely sure the man had meant it, Richard must’ve thought himself kind as he insinuated filth on Damian’s own mother’s name.
“Cool it, boy blunder. Whatever you’ve got against Talia has no place in front of her kid.” Had said Jason, cutting but excruciatingly polite.
“You’re right, my bad. I just meant to show I am glad you’re both here. And that I’m immensely grateful she isn’t. Couldn’t deal with B throwing himself off cliffs to chase her heartless highness for the thousand time.” He had been taunting them, Damian could tell in hindsight. “Not going to lie, when we first heard of the attack, I had almost hoped she hadn’t made it.” Jason had pulled a gun on him then, quick enough to distract from the fact that Damian was already reaching for his blade. Light rumble fell above his head.
Seeing the gun, his father had flipped. Before he could react, a throwing weapon was on its way to Jason, destined to hit the back of his helmet, where Damian knew the bomb mechanism was bound to be triggered. He had been detained by the robin before he could react. Damian hadn't meant to. He hadn't known he was capable of it. He reached out, hands stretched, kicking and fighting off his captor to get to his brother, Damian felt a rush of energy escape him. The shuriken dissolved into feathers mid-air and the room stopped.