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Growing up with the League of Assassins is bound to be an… interesting experience.
Damian sat in his room, staring up at the ceiling. This mansion was so cramped! He much preferred staying with his…
His mother…
The elite assassin screwed his eyes shut. No matter how skilled the boy was, he still felt his eyes being to burn at the thought of his mother.
Although he wanted to know about who his father was since birth, it didn’t mean he wanted to stay with him. So what if he lacked discipline and needed to be refined? Couldn’t his mother do that? Couldn’t she be his mother for once?…
Damian sat up and scoffed at the dumb chandelier dangling from his celling. It was really tacky.
A knock at the door diverted the boy’s attention. He didn’t bother to open the door up, he was sure his father and the company he kept knew how to open doors.
“Master Damian!” A familiar voice called out. It was Pennyworth’s. The only servant his father insisted on having. Damian couldn’t wrap his head around it. What good could a frail old man do when it came to service?
“Come in.” He mumbled, unenthusiastically. Pennyworth came in holding a cup of tea.
“Master Bruce always used to drink this when he was younger.” The butler explained, setting it on the bedside table. “It helped calm his nerves.”
“I’m not my father.” Damian snapped. He hadn’t really ever been compared to his father before. Perhaps it was how little of a moral compass he had compared to his old man. Still, he didn’t appreciate the comparison.
“I’m not saying you are, Master Damian.” Pennyworth replied, giving the tea a gentle stir before leaving it alone. He straightened and put his arms behind his back. “I’m only telling you what worked for him.”
Damian crossed his arms and turned away. “Well take it back, Pennyworth! It won’t work for me!”
“Very well, Master Damian…” Alfred turned to leave, but he deliberately left the steaming tea on the bedside table.
A gust of wind flew in through the window, causing Damian to shiver. He turned back around to eye the hot, warm, comforting liquid.
So warm… And he was so cold.
He then found himself holding an empty cup in his hands with a newfound warmth in his belly. Damian hid the mug under the bed and stood up. He didn’t need Pennyworth realizing he was right.
Damian walked to his door and pushed it open.
Strolling down the halls of his manor wasn’t Damian’s favorite pastime, but it was a pastime. He stopped at in front of a bunch of portraits. They depicted his father’s… substitutes. Yes. That’s what Damian convinced himself they were. Substitutes for him. Now that he was here, his father wouldn’t need him.
He stared extra long at a painting of Richard Grayson. He didn’t know much about him, only that he was the first Robin and was now Nightwing. They had met before, but briefly. Damian was too threatened by Tim Drake’s existence to care much about whoever he was.
If not his mother’s, he needed to be at least one parent’s first priority.
“Jealous?” He heard a voice behind him. Damian twirled around instantly, his hands immediately going to where his weapon would be.
Upon looking at the intruder, the boy’s tensed up posture ceased. “Grayson? Go back to Bludhaven.”
Richard smiled, dimples forming on his cheeks as he did. “I was in town so I decided to visit. Are you liking the place so far? How long has it been, two months?”
“I hate it here.” Damian’s honesty was his only virtue.
The dumb smile persisted. “I hated it here too. You’ll get used to it. Tim and Jason are downstairs, you should join us. It’s like a Robin reunion!” He paused. “Well, only the ones Bruce took in… But, you should totally join us anyway.”
Damian grumbled, “Going to meet with you wannabes won’t make me feel any better.”
“Come anyway.” Grayson smirked. “Tim brought cookies.”
Damian had a deep rooted hatred for Tim Drake. Maybe it was because he had been Robin when he arrived, or maybe because he was just so easy to beat. Either way, he didn’t like him. That’s why he wanted the cookies. Not because he liked cookies or anything… that was very childish (even though he was ten years old). It was because he was stealing them from his enemy. Yes, precisely. This was all a matter of personal honor. The mantle of Robin, and later Batman, was his and his alone.
“Fine, Grayson. I’ll come.”
“Great.” Richard looked at him with a sly grin. “Come on.”
…
Tim and Jason were both hunched over a Monopoly board like it was a map of Gotham and they were hunting down the next biggest threat. They were in the manor’s library. Damian had never really visited a real library before, but he knew they were meant to be quiet. This one, was anything but.
“Jason! Pay up!” Tim grinned at the board as his opponent placed his piece on the spot he’d been hoping for.
“What? No! That’s not your property, it’s mine, see?” Jason held up a card with a smirk.
Tim’s nose wrinkled. “Huh? Hey! That’s mine!”
“Should’ve payed more attention. Aren’t you meant to be the smartest out of all of us?” Jason teased.
Tim grumbled something and then spoke up. “That doesn’t mean I’m immune to getting mugged.”
“I brought Damian!” Richard announced, motioning to the grouchy kid standing next to him. As expected, they were as happen to be see him as young Wayne was to be standing there.
Tim looked away when Damian met his gaze. Maybe the black eye he got from the psychotic child still loomed over his head.
Jason spoke up. Todd was the one the Damian respected the most, but that wasn’t saying much. “Dick? Why’d you bring the demon child here?”
Dick gave him the same infuriating smile he gave everyone. “He said he wanted cookies.”
Tim shook his head. “No. I got those myself for myself.”
Damian snatched a cookie for himself. Tim tried stopping him but his reflexes were no good compared to someone who was raised in the League of Assassins since birth.
Having nobody to really blame, Tim looked up at Dick. “Did you have to tell him about the cookies?”
Dick’s face soured a little and he put on a childish pout. “No. But did you really have to steal all my money?”
“Not my fault, you landed on my property.” Tim fought back, still eyeing Damian as he ate the cookie.
“It’s dry.” Damian commented.
“It’s not yours!”
Jason cleared his throat. “Can we go back to playing so I can win.”
Tim groaned. “No. I’m done playing.”
“We can watch a movie?” Dick suggested. In all honesty, he was sick of his family not getting along. At this point, they either figured it out or he’d force them to do family bonding activities. It worked when he forced the Titans to do team bonding activities, family bonding couldn’t be that different.
Jason slouched in his chair. “Listen, Boy Wonder. None of us feel like it. And why’d you have to bring him?” He jabbed a finger towards Damian.
“I don’t care if you don’t feel it.” Dick crossed his arms. “We’re watching a movie whether you like it or not. If you resist, I’ll be picking which one.”
Damian noticed how Todd and Drake went pale at the idea of Grayson picking a movie. His taste must have been terrible to warrant such a reaction.
“Great! Let’s go!” Dick walked to the home theatre. The only theatre in the house. Damian was disappointed his father only had one.
…
The movie they picked was horrible. But it was better than whatever Grayson would’ve chosen.
Tim snored next to Damian (a rare moment of the detective getting sleep). Jason was on his phone. Dick stared at the big screen, trying to make it look like he actually cared but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
It was only Damian who payed attention. The main character, a little prince who was abandoned by his mother because he wasn’t good enough to inherit the throne, was experiencing the most climatic moment of the film.
Damian pretended that he wasn’t completely invested in it. The prince had to prove himself. He had to show his mother that he was worth her time, that he was strong enough to take back.
“Why, mother?” The character’s voice echoed through the theatre, matching the volume of Tim’s snores.
“Because, my prince.” Damian looked at the actress who played the character. Despite looking nothing like Talia, it felt like it was his mother. “You have yet to prove yourself suitable for the throne.”
“I’m ready!”
“You are not. That is why I’ve sent you to live with the commoners. You will know when you are ready. You were born to be so much more.”
So much more… But when will it be enough? How many people did Damian have to kill? How many emotions did he have to discard? When will he be good enough to ever reach the level of his mother and grandfather?
Why couldn’t he be ready?
Damian didn’t notice he was crying until he was surrounded by Bruce’s… other children.
Perhaps they were truly much better than he could ever be. That is why they had claims to his father’s fortune. That’s why he treated them like blood.
It was cruel. He was too little for his mother but was too much for his father.
“Whoa, the demon child knows how to cry?” Jason commented as Dick elbowed him.
“Now’s not the time.” Dick mumbled. He didn’t touch him, which Damian appreciated. Many people thought physical touch was one of the only ways to comfort people.
Damian rubbed his face aggressively. “I’m not upset. I’m not a little kid.”
Tim stares at him with a hint of understanding. “Did you remember your mother?”
Stubbornly, Damian shook his head. “I’m not some baby who still cries for their mama.”
“Yeah, you’re a ‘big boy,’ right?” Jason teases, getting elbowed by Dick again. “Ow! You’re doing it on purpose now!”
Tim yawns, still tired from his twenty minute (at most) nap. “Crying for your mama isn’t actually only for babies. It’s alright to feel something sometimes.”
“No, it’s not!” Damian snapped back. He wanted to speak, to argue, but holding back tears felt like he was strangling himself.
The three boys… the boys who had previously seen as competition for his father’s fortune started to become more like brother. They stood there, not shaming for his outburst and not overstepping their boundaries.
Dick turned off the movie. Jason just stood there unsure of what move to make. Tim left and came back with the cookies he brought, placing them next to crying boy.
Damian looked up, his eyes landed on the cookies. In that moment, he dried his tears and began to understand what it meant when his father told him to fight for good.
Being good didn’t mean being perfect, it didn’t mean being soft. It meant being mature enough to comfort even people who beat you up.
Hesitantly, Damian reached for a cookie and held it in his hands. Tim avoided looking at him, but he had done more than enough already. Before he could think it through, Damian spilt the cookie in half, giving a part to Tim.
For the first time, it seemed the detective wasn’t able to figure something out. “Did you poison this?” He asked.
“Don’t make me take back your dry cookies, Drake.”
With a smile, he accepted the peace offering and ate it. Damian avoided looking towards Grayson.
Jason spoke up. “Eventful day, huh?”
Dick responded. “Mhm. It turned out alright though.”