Author's Note: Welcome! A little bit about my story: I take a different spin on the character of Talia al Ghul. I shift the timeline so that Bruce meets her as a little girl and then within Christopher Nolan's universe, she becomes his protege. I loosely follow along the plot of all three movies, so don't be intimidated by the length of the read; it is basically three different story arcs. I tried to make Talia/Shadow's character a reflection of her mentor, but slightly more reckless and impulsive. John Blake is a part of my story, and much more augmented than in the movies. I have modeled his personality after Dick Grayson because I enjoy the contrast with Batman's personality. I have tried my best, however, to keep Bruce, Gordon and Alfred the same as we know and love them. Please let me know if you enjoyed my story! My goal is to give people a little escape from reality, and hopefully make them feel something strong enough to want to read more. Feedback is appreciated, and I will address any questions you may have in the comments section as RainaWritesResponses. Thanks for your time, and I hope you find it worthwhile!
Bruce's entire body ached from their long day of training. But the tranquility of the moment filled his lungs. The sun set in a blaze of crimson, setting alight the sparsely wooded slopes below the temple. Mountains bowed majestically to the ancient glacier. The Bhutan landscape was a humbling display of respect and power.
Ra's al Ghul approached, standing beside him in stoic companionship. Their gazes drifted to the lone figure of a small girl, a blemish on the barren rock face that sheltered their temple. She toiled over a wind-beaten corner of the relic's foundation that had fallen into disrepair.
"The great love you spoke about," Bruce inquired. "She was Talia's mother?"
A somberness clouded his mentor's face.
"Yes," he answered finally. "Sometimes, I see her looking out of those eyes. But she is not there. Talia is merely a ghost of her. It is a cruel reminder." He looked away with a sigh.
Below, the child winced as a stiff burst of mountain air whipped her cowl away from her willowy frame. But her face remained reticent, and her fingers worked nimbly, efficiently. Bruce couldn't help but admire her grit.
"I have never heard her speak," he mused, for even in the gilded light of sunset she seemed part of the silent, solemn shadows.
"Not since the day she learned of her mother's death," Ra's answered. "Her mind is a simple one. She can listen sufficiently; her obedience serves her well. But I doubt she will ever amount to much."
Bruce knitted his brows at his mentor's harsh assertions. He saw a familiar darkness in the girl's eyes; it reminded him of the days following his parents' deaths. But Bruce felt sure he could also sense a resilient strength waiting to be pulled from the depths of that darkness, like smoldering embers that clung to the chance of becoming a blaze once more. Ra's had drawn the fire out of Bruce. Would he let it die within his own daughter?