Chapter Text
"Habibi, go." Talia Al Ghul mouthed as she watched her son hiding in the roof of Nanda Parbat.
The sword against her neck grated more as she breathed. It wouldn't matter soon. Soon she would have no neck. Damian stubbornly stayed put. Not a muscle twitching as he watched the League of Shadows be brought to a painful massacre. His seven-year-old self had seen more death and destruction than any man or woman. But this was the first -and last- time he would see his Mother and Grandfather breathe.
Talia Al Ghul and Ra's Al Ghul, two of the most prominent figures in Damian's life, the ones that made him bleed, the ones that hardened him. The ones that loved him as best they could given the predicament. Were about to die.
"Ra's Al Ghul, your reign of terror is over, you petty bastard." Slade Wilson sneered, his crooked teeth glower faintly in the light of the Lazarus pit. Damian wanted to punch out his teeth. Slade grabbed the katana that was held at Ra's neck and swung. The sound of the Demon's Head head hitting the floor echoed. A squishy, somewhat heavy thump that spurted blood wherever it fell. Talia was next. Though she had the confidence to watch her son through sorrowful eyes.
"Mother loves you, Habibi. Run my blood." She mouthed again.
Damian shed a single tear watching her. He desperately wanted to jump out of his hiding place and slaughter all the fools and miscreants that dared come here to his home and spill the Al Ghul blood. The blood of royalty. Now it was no different to the numerous other bloodstains that littered the throne room floor. There was nothing distinguishing about it. Damian lay on his stomach, floored. He couldn't have foreseen this. Couldn't have prevented it. If he had been at the League of Assassin's compound when the invasion went down he would've met the same fate of his mother and grandfather.
Pitiful, pathetic.
But a small part of him screamed that he could've saved them. Could've done something to stop the inevitable scene before him. But there he laid, the last Al Ghul. In his mind a burning promise flashed; he alone would claim everything his grandfather planned. Damian was going to rule the world like his grandfather had planned.
But not yet.
Damian was an observant boy. He was quick witted and far more intelligent than the majority of Earth's population would ever be. He committed each face of the invaders to his mind. Marking out every target he would kill someday. The man in orange, the leader would be his last kill. And so, the force of ten thousand was marked for death by a resilient and pissed off seven year old.
"Burn the bitches. Can't have them coming back to life. But keep the heads. Those I want displayed on a wall." Slade smirked. His eyes gleaming with malice. Damian froze in fear, his spine locking.
He breathed deeply struggling to find his breath. Everything was moving too fast. His hands were clammy and a silent scream choked his throat. The sceptre in his hand nearly dropped if it weren't for his white knuckled grip. The small dragon-bat at his side licked his face. Tears were blurring his vision but Goliath cleaned him up. A dramatic irony.
Not ten hours ago Damian had slaughtered Goliath's family in cold blood, sparing the youngest and smallest; Goliath himself.
Now look at where he was. Oh the dramatic irony.
Talia and Ra's were cooked for lack of better terminology. Their heads were placed in opaque boxes and their bodies hastily dragged to the centre of the room and doused in gasoline. The smell made Damian screw his nose up in disgust. Burning flesh though, had Damian gagging, and his head roiling. Stubbornly he sat stuck. Watching the flames engulf his family. Numbness crept down his spine, permeating every inch of his small frame. He could've been watching paint drying. Gradually the invaders left. Not even bothering to double check the compound for any stragglers, it wouldn't matter. They planted bombs.
Silently Damian slipped down from his perch and waded through the massacre. A small dragon-bat followed chirping unhappily. The sceptre in Damian's white knuckled grip dragged along the floor awfully loud. Not loud enough to drown out the crackling and bursting sounds. The orange man had bought a force of twenty thousand to Nanda Parbat. The league only hosted five thousand soldiers including his family. Respectively they counted as at least one hundred bodies due to their capabilities.
They were still slaughtered like sheep. To Damian they were supposed to be gods. Unkillable and untouchable.
Not anymore.
Damian didn't notice the path of tears that carved their way on his blank face. He didn't care as his bare feet were covered in blood and gore and things he didn't really want to know. Somewhere along his walk he noted that the body of his big brother, Jason Todd was nowhere to be found. But that was right. Because Jason had left him. Even after promising to come back to him, Jason had no doubt never looked back. Damian kept his walk even and controlled. Just like mother taught, he kept his face devoid of emotions even though he wanted to scream. It was not polite to disturb the dead.
He didn't stop until he reached the human bonfire. He kept his perfect form like his teachers taught. Like his grandfather who despite his age was fit. Kept it ramrod straight and controlled like mother. She usually offered him a tentative smile at his perfect formation.
He hunched over, falling in on himself. Goliath jumped in fear of his new master who collapsed. Grandfather would be turning in his grave if he saw Damian in said crouch.
Grandfather had no complaints to voice.
Damian giggled but immediately shushed himself. It was the first chuckle that wasn't frowned upon.
"Mama, how could you leave me. You were supposed to be better. You're a liar." Damian spat.
His mother always said she'd watch over him, perfect him.
"YOU'RE A LIAR!" He screamed and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. They were stinging furiously.
"YOU'RE ALL LIARS!" He continued to scream himself hoarse.
That was what the League was. A bunch of liars in dress up. Damian would have to take it upon himself to better the League his grandfather built. The twisted ideals were to be refined and enforced. Damian would be a one man army if he had to achieve his goals. He was better than half the assassin's anyway.
Damian's sharp ears caught the sounds of bombs priming. He straightened up rubbing furiously at the tears still leaking from his eyes. He was above all that yucky feeling stuff.
"Let's go Goliath." Damian scooped up the confused creature, plopping him on his shoulders and breaking into a run. He grated to stop at the doors a thought occurring to him.
"Goliath go. I'll be back." Damian shoved Goliath gently to the exit and sprinted back to the hallway. The ticking sound was increasing. It took a moment for Damian to readjust to the smell but he finally spotted what he needed.
Ra's and Talia's own customised katana's. The scabbards were haphazardly thrown around, he grabbed them and tied them to his back. In his mind he kept an ear out for the bombs. He had six seconds. He could make it. The tiny shadow broke into a sprint, his very life depended on getting the fuck out of the throne room. His heart heavy and his stomach nauseous.
'Get ahold of yourself!' He cursed himself reaching the outside, the loyal dragon-bat waiting at the entrance squawked in relief. Damian scooped him up running like a through the outside training yards. His bare feet ached, his breathe was laboured, his eyesight blurred. There was no time for emotions. Inside the grandiose halls the bombs exploded. The heat was a sucker punch, filling through the rooms and architecture destroying the ancient relics and abolivating the expensive high tech rooms. It swamped the entire compound, the building caving in on itself. The bodies of the League became crispy and flaky, the metal of their armour melted into pulp. If there had been anyone left alive there certainly wasn't now.
The searing flames chased Damian and Goliath. They hounded at his heels, his desperation clogged his throat. The flames licked at his back, his speed bit enough. The simple League mission clothes caught alight causing Damian to scream. He faulted, on step and he was brough to a tumble.
The internalised pressure inside the compound released, a sonic boom that broke Damian's eardrums and scattered the debris. Damian frantically scooped Goliath in his hold and curled up small behind a fallen training dummy. It offered next to no protection but it was fortunate enough to be miniscule enough to avoid the rubble.mWith his hands clamped over his bleeding ears he pressed his face to Goliath's flank.
"Mama you promised." He cried in arabic.
A ribbon of agony flared in his thigh. Damian bit his tongue until he tasted copper, desperate to keep his composure as mother would've expected.
His world was literally and figuratively falling apart around him. Feelings were high, feelings were useless.
He could berate himself later. For now he just needed to survive.
-
Somewhere far away on a different planet a child known as Rachel Roth tossed and turned in her sleep watching Damian's life like a fever dream. Her amethyst eyes opened in panic and her breathing was erratic bolting up she screamed.
"Damian!" Her shout shattered the windows of her bedroom in Azareth causing the monks to rush in. Rachel's own mother in front panting as she reached her shaking daughter.
Rachel was pulled into a protective hug to which she reciprocated fiercely.
"Mother, I-I saw-"
"Shhh my dear. Everything is fine. I promise you. There's no need to explain." Her mother assured running her hand through Rachel's short hair.
"Everything is fine." Her mother lied. Rachel didn't have the heart to poke at her mother's blatant lies. Not while the monks watched in scrutiny. She was safe in her mother's arms.
'Is this what Damian feels when he curls up in his mother's stiff arms?' Rachel wonders briefly.
"Mother, who is he?" Rachel asked once she calmed down.
"Somebody who will need your guidance in the future." Her mother answered.
Rachel was left to ponder that thought as she drifted back to sleep.
"I will find Damian." She promised herself.
But for now her body was tired and sordid after the training she did to work on her magic capabilities.
The monks potions only got so far.
***
Two children made a promise to the stars that night.
They both intended to keep their promises.