Cold-Blooded: A DC Universe Fanfiction (#Wattys2015)

Chapter 59: Damian, Talia, Yukie: For Real, Forever

A/N: Remember: At this time, Damian is only four. He's very bright, but not quite the hellion he will be by the time he's eight to ten years of age.

"Why must his name be changed?" Damian heard his mother demand as he entered the courtyard. "'Damian' is a strong name, a conqueror's name. It means 'He who tames', as he shall tame and conquer the world when his time comes."

"It is not the meaning of the name which is the problem. It is the fact that to Americans, 'Damian' is the name of the demonic boy from a series of horror movies. People will always be asking, 'Like from The Omen?', and his peers will constantly snicker and taunt him with it as he gets older." It was a woman who said that, one whose voice he did not know, a cool, slightly low pitched voice.

"Not to mention that it sounds like the name of a Eurotrash gigolo," rasped a deep male voice.

Then he saw his grandfather and ran to him, "Grandfather!" he said, getting a quick, one armed hug and a ruffling of his hair. "What's a Eurotrash gigolo?"

"Someone who gets his money by finding rich girlfriends and living off them," his grandfather explained. "It is not an honorable way of life."

"Oh. Oh! The servants said there was a treacherous plot against you and a battle here in the courtyard! Why didn't you send for me? I would have defended you and brought honor on my name!" He made a riposte and stab with an imaginary sword.

"Small children are banned from the Field of Honor on the grounds that if they lose, everyone expects it, and if they win, everyone says what an honorable man the deceased was, for not raising a weapon against a child," said the strange woman. Damian looked at her. She was quite pretty, and she had very white skin, especially for an Asian woman. He wasn't sure, but it seemed like a secret smile was lurking around her mouth. "You will have to wait until you are at least in your teens."

"I didn't know that," he said. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Damian, you are unmannerly," his grandfather chided. To the people, he said, "This, of course, is my grandson. Damian, this is Ms. Yukime Kuwano, who has earned the right to be known as Lady Snowblade. Although not related to us, she is my creation as you are your mother's. As your mother caused you to be made, so I chose her parents. This is Mr. Slade Wilson, who is Deathstroke."

Damian had never heard of Lady Snowblade, but he knew who Slade Wilson was. He was spoken of in the League of Assassin as a man to be respected and feared. "I have heard of you," he said to Deathstroke. "I may be small and young now, but I've already killed people, and when I am old enough and big enough, I will face you in battle and deliver your death stroke."

The silver-haired man with one eye chuckled. "We'll see about that. Come here."

His grandfather gave him a little push in that direction, so Damian went.

Slade Wilson stood up as Damian approached. "Hm. Stretch your hand out like so." He demonstrated, spreading his own hand as wide as it would go, splaying out his fingers. Damian copied him, and Deathstroke pressed his hand against Damian's. "Big for your age. Big paws on a cub mean a big wolf when he's grown, and at age four, people are almost exactly half the height they'll be when they're grown-up. Provided they're nourished consistently, that is. You're going to be about my height, and if you want it bad enough and work hard at it, about my build. Heads up!" he suddenly shouted, and faked a punch at Damian's midsection.

Damian flipped backward out of reach, as he'd been taught. "You're right," Deathstroke said to his grandfather, "He is being taught wrong."

"I am not! You take that back!" Damian made as if to punch the huge man, but Slade Wilson caught his fist and lifted him off the ground with only one hand until their eyes were at a level.