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Damian took the sword his mother was handing to him. This was the last evaluation of his training, the one that would make it an assassin for the Al Ghul… Or a failure.
But Damian was not worried. In fact, he was even sure of his success.
His mother, his grandfather and Jason watched him from afar, all expecting his success.
It was not that he did not wanted to disappoint them. It was just that that the pace was traced for him from the start, and that Damian was given all the keys to follow it.
The assassins, masked, jumped on him. Damian immediately noticed that the two men were not going full strength : they were going more slowly, maybe because he was the Al Ghul’s son, or because he was seven years old. Either way, it made the task easier for him. He just had to slice the sword, twist it in the muscle to start a bleeding too intense… On the first.
Then for the second, using the sword to cut just enough the neck to touch the aortic artery.
A geyser of blood stained the ground, and Damian had a few seconds of rest before new soldiers came - and this time, they knew his age was not an excuse.
Each time, Damian focused, hard enough to find the spot.
“You don’t have to kill them each time. Just try to find the spot that will kick them out of competition,” Jason had said during their training sessions.
Damian did not like killing. Before talking to Jason, his mother had trained him to do it for each mission - said it was always a work better done that way.
Jason had taught him that killing was not an obligation, and that, if his skills were sufficient, he could only hurt people instead of killing them.
He knew that was not what his grandfather expected, and he did not wanted to disappoint him. But sometimes, the souls he had killed were tormenting him at night, and he knew no one understood it.
Until Jason came in. And he seemed to understand how his killings hurt him, how the souls still sat heavy on his mind at night.
Jason could not erase his guilt, but he did his best to make it less significant.
But Damian still wasn’t healed of this determination he transformed in anger, because he did not know how to handle it otherwise. He killed two people during the evaluation, a man and a woman, but he did not had the time to stop and apologize.
His hands were shaking when two men were rolling in pain in front of him, and his grandfather spoke.
“Kill them, Damian. Kill them, and welcome to the Al Ghul’s clan.”
Damian looked up, almost shyly. Jason’s hands were gripping the balcony, tightly, but he did not dare to interrupt the scene.
Near the door, his mother waited patiently. Damian knew she was expecting him to be… Well, to do as he usually would. Listen to his grand father, even if it sometimes took a bit of persuasion.
“You hurt them too much, Damian. Shorten their pain. Kill them,” Ras keeps going, pointing exactly where Damian does not need it.
He never liked the pain. And he never liked hurting other.
So, with a shaking hand, Damian slices throats like butter, not even needing to kneel to be precise.
He does not remember what happened after. All he remembers was not being able to do anything, not even sleep, laying eyes wide open as pain, anger and guilt took more place in his heart.
¤¤¤
“Before you ask, I am not going to kill him. He deserves to suffer.”
Bruce had looked up at him, slightly destabilized.
“I would never ask that from you, Robin.”
Bruce had gotten up, taking a seizing Riddler on his shoulder after making first aid moves on him.
“We will drop it at Arkham. They will help him - not kill him,” Bruce explained gently to his son.
He was sometimes really worried for Damian. Of course with time he had learned that he had not been raised like any ordinary child - but who had been in this household anyway ?
It still did not seemed right for him to have a teenager explain why he was not going to kill a grown man.
“You are right in not wanting to kill him. Especially since it was a fight between us when you first came in,” Bruce said softly as they got home.
Damian looked outside, thoughtful.
“I don’t… I don’t think killing people is the right solution. My heart feels less heavy when I do not do it.”
He had tried to write his feelings, several times, but voicing them always made them more real. Except Jason, he never expected anyone to understand.
But he had talked without really thinking.
“Of course it does. Damian, you don’t… You will never have to do it again.”
Bruce stopped the car to look at his son.
“If you are in danger, call me, or one of your siblings. There will always be someone here to help you.”
Damian looked hesitant.
“Okay. I won’t do it anymore, then,” he whispered, as Bruce took them back home.