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"It's the so called normal guys who always let you down. Psychos never scare me. Least they're committed" --Selina Kyle/Catwoman
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<Three years later>
<Ages, since math is hard:
Damian: 19
Odysseus/Sparta: 17
Natalia/Mink:16
Jonathan/Krypton:16>
Damian's reception into the League of Shadows went about as well as he thought it would, which is to say, not well at all.
Despite his work at depicting a slow change of heart these past months— aligning certain cases with his mother's interests, faking aggressive public disputes with his father over ideology, and even going as far as re-framing murders to make himself appear as the culprit--- years under Batman's tutelage at the expense of the League's philosophy weighed his reputation down.
Even though it was his mother who extended the olive branch towards him (once again, the results of meticulous moves on Damian's part), allowing his re-entry, his change of heart still seemed sudden and backwards.
Batman, as it was well-known, was a little like a black hole: those who neared him got sucked into his worldview, one way or another.
His grandfather treated him with a stiff regal air that blew colder than the mountains Nada Parbat sat upon; and though his mother welcomed him with open arms, there was no doubt a knife twisting in her long fingers and hovering over his exposed back.
Still, it was progress, and he was on Infinity Island sitting at his grandfather's right-hand side at a dinner table filled with peach roses, filbert, tansies, and thistles. Thistles to remind him of his blood, tansies to remind him of his "mistake", filbert to give him hope of reconciliation, and peach roses to signify that whatever was to be done about his swayed loyalty would be done tonight.
His mother, grandfather, and he ate in silence. Though not a speck of dust landed on any item, the ornate furniture stolen from times lost made the room feel like a fresh-open tomb. The air massaged his neck and scraped his arms with cold, boneless fingers.
He missed Wayne Manor.
But he needed to be here. Not only to reap information on his grandfather's newest plan for world domination, but for his father's sake and to once and for all prove himself worthy of his true heritage.
His father, though he would not admit it, was growing old. Not elderly, and still in enough shape to bring the light justice to a city that grew darker by the hour, but he was past his prime and not returning to it anytime soon. Damian knew convincing his father to relinquish the cowl (without dying) would take years of work, so he decided to start before it became a veritable problem.
Even more difficult was making sure the title of "Batman" fell into his hands and his hands alone. Thwarting the League of Shadows, the organization he was once to so fiercely dedicated to, seemed like an agreeable first step. His loyalty would be proven, and the world would be saved by his hands so his ability would be unquestionable as well.
Grayson, he feared, had partially caught on. Before Damian left for Infinity Island, he had clasped Damian's shoulders and pleaded, "You're one of us. We know you are, you know you are—even if the world doesn't know, we all know. You know that, right?"
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Gone
Fanfiction"The people were gone, but their shadows remained" --Ray Bradbury (on his visit to Hiroshima after the bombing) In which children became weapons, adults became monsters, and dreams became nightmares Or, Damian Wayne, now nineteen and desperate to pr...
