Angst Damian Wayne One Shots

Heart of Stone

Damian Wayne had always been intense. A boy raised by assassins, molded by the League of Shadows, and tempered by the Bat family. He was a perfect warrior, both brilliant and lethal. But beneath that hard exterior, there had always been a spark of emotion—a flicker of humanity he kept hidden but never extinguished. That spark kept him tethered to the people who mattered to him: his family, his friends, his team. But even the hardest heart can only take so much before it cracks.

The first betrayal came swiftly, like a knife to the back. It was subtle, unspoken, yet cut deeper than any wound he'd endured in combat. He had overheard the conversation—Bruce talking to Dick in the cave late one night. Bruce's voice had been low, tinged with frustration.

"He's unstable, Dick. I can't trust him out there right now."

Unstable. The word echoed in Damian's mind for days. It wasn't the first time he'd heard his father express disappointment, but it stung more because this time it wasn't said to his face. It was a quiet confession shared with someone else, like a secret shame. Damian had done everything he could to prove himself worthy of the mantle, to show Bruce he could be trusted. But in the end, it was never enough.

The second betrayal came from his team—the Teen Titans. A mission had gone south, fast. They had been infiltrating a criminal syndicate when things spiraled out of control. Damian had given a direct order, one that would have neutralized the threat immediately. But instead, they hesitated. Raven, in particular, had pulled back, her voice full of uncertainty.

"We can't just do it your way, Damian. Not everything has to be about violence."

Her hesitation had cost them the mission, and they barely made it out alive. Afterward, the Titans had blamed him. They said his tactics were too extreme, that he pushed too hard, expected too much. It had been the final straw in a long series of disagreements. In that moment, Damian realized something: they didn't trust him either. Not really.

Betrayals, one after another, like cracks forming in the foundation of a fortress. His father's doubt. His team's mistrust. The people who were supposed to have his back had instead questioned him, challenged him. And after the mission failed, they had all turned to him, waiting for an apology—waiting for him to explain himself.

But Damian had nothing left to explain. There was no justification for who he was, for the way he operated. He was bred to be a weapon, raised to be ruthless, and molded to survive at any cost. Emotions, he realized, had only ever made him weak. They were a burden, a chain that held him back from becoming what he was truly meant to be.

The third and final betrayal was the one that broke him. It was subtle, not an explosion of conflict, but rather the slow erosion of trust from those closest to him. Bruce, Dick, Tim, Jason—all of them had moments where they spoke of him as if he were a liability, something to be managed rather than someone to be understood. He could hear it in their tones, see it in their glances. He was the odd one out, the problem child, the one they couldn't quite figure out how to fix.

And that's when Damian decided he was done. Done trying to be part of a family that couldn't accept him. Done leading a team that second-guessed his every move. Done pretending he was anything other than what he truly was: a weapon. A tool designed to execute, to win, to survive.

It started slowly, like a door closing quietly, bit by bit. Damian locked his emotions away, one at a time. First, the anger, which had always been the easiest to access, was contained, walled off. Then, the hurt, the disappointment, the sadness. One by one, he boxed them up and pushed them aside, until all that was left was cold, rational thought.

Damian still went on missions with the Bat family and the Titans, but something about him had shifted. He wasn't the volatile, emotional leader who demanded attention with his explosive nature. Now, he was cold, methodical, and above all, ruthless. The fire that had once driven him had been replaced by a steely resolve, an unsettling calm that made his every action more precise, more dangerous.