A/N: As the summary says, this is a prequel to Unfortunate Reminder. If you haven't read that story yet, that's alright;this is still understandable. :) It will spoil the a little bit of the original story, but it's nothing that major. Feel free to read on or check out the other first!
If you have read Unfortunate Reminder, welcome back! This takes place three years before the original story's plot. I felt compelled to write out this particular scene; I think there is a big difference between the characters here and how they turn out to be. I hope that comes across well.
For now this is staying as one chapter, though if there is anything else that you would like to see please let me know! I like to know what you guys are interested in seeing and answering questions. :)
Okay, I'm done talking now. Please let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.
Damian took his studies as seriously as he considered his physical training to be. At his young age of seven years old, he understood that the two components went hand in hand; to be successful involved both strength and wit. He had both; expanding his knowledge was extremely important to him as it was his grandfather and mother. During the time in the day where he sat and listened to his teachers, there was never a moment of interruption. The door only opened twice; once when Damian entered and once when he left.
That was why, when Talia appeared in the doorway that day, Damian was taken aback.
He had been in the middle of translating phrases into other languages when the door swung open almost silently, Damian catching the movement out of the corner of his eye. Talia had entered within the threshold, and Damian's first reaction was to assume there was something terribly wrong. But her demeanor was calm as always, not betraying a hint of reasoning for her entrance. Damian took in her posture, her stance, and found nothing suspicious. Yet there was something in his mother's eyes that was different. Excitement? No, that couldn't be it. Perhaps pleased was the right word.
The teacher seemed to be caught off guard as well, as he had paused in speaking and given Talia an awed look. Damian could sense his fear that he had done something wrong, and locked eyes with his mother. She was not here for the teacher, he knew, and got to his feet as she spoke, "Damian, come with me, please."
It was not a suggestion, but an order. Damian did not say a word until they had left the room and were walking down the ordinate hall, when he gazed up at his mother and questioned, "What has happened? Is Grandfather alright?"
The corner of his mother's mouth quirked upwards slightly, as if his curiosity amused her. "He is in great spirits, Damian. The victor of the tournament has arrived."
It had been weeks since the event took place, one in which Damian had not been present. While all of the fighting had gone on, the fight for him, the seven year old had been confined to his studies and training. Both his grandfather and mother had been adamant that he needed to stay focused, that this was not his business to watch over. He'd asked questions; where was she from? What was her name? Did she know just who she was fighting for? The concerns fell onto deaf ears; they did not seem to be important to anyone. All that mattered was that some girl had survived and she was now his betrothed.
Damian repressed an annoyed sigh. Why didn't he have a say in these things? This little assassin, dare he even label her as one, could be nothing more than a lucky child. He crinkled his nose at the thought, he did not admire luck. It was skill that he considered to be worthy, respect that he expected. If this girl thought that she could waltz into his home, into his life, and try to assert herself above him, she had another thing coming.
Talia added, "She has proven herself in our eyes. Your grandfather found the right match for you, my son."
She has not proven herself in mine, Damian thought. He would have the final thoughts on this prized gem that everyone was cooing over. All of the whispers and rumors had finally started to make him dislike this girl, though he didn't even have the slightest clue about her. He highly doubted she was all they were making her out to be. Though if even his grandfather was in agreement…
Damian sniffed, dismissing his thoughts. It would be his final decision, and that was all.
Talia led him into his room, where several servants were already moving about. They quickly turned their attention to him once he entered, and his mother moved to the window. Damian allowed them to do their work, watching as they dressed him in his garments. He assumed they were ceremonial; a traditional warrior's design and adorned with gold and red symbols, intricate and precise. They were much more detailed than his usual clothes, completely opposite of the dark and lightweight training attire that he was often in. In this he felt like a king, a leader; he assumed this was what his grandfather felt like all the time.
When he was dressed Talia dismissed the servants, leaving Damian alone with his mother. She retrieved his sword, crouched down, and attached it at his waist, smoothing her hands over his shoulders as if to make sure that he was properly dressed. He met his mother's eyes again and this time she smiled, not one of the rare ones that warmed him from the inside out. This was her smile of confidence and assurance; Damian admired the expression all the same. He asked, "Does she know, Mother? Does she know just who I am?"
"If she did not, I doubt that this would have been such a serious matter," Talia answered, and he saw something in her change. It was steely and daring, a look that made Damian hold his tongue from any further questions. "There was bloodshed for you, Damian. No one entered without knowing the reason."
He nodded once and Talia stood, placing a hand on his back. "Come. Let us go and join your grandfather."
Together they walked through the halls, and Damian noticed the quiet within his home. The servants were few and far between when it came to sight, and though there never was much noise it felt eerily silent that afternoon. Talia caught him glancing around and explained, "They are waiting for you outside. This is an event that no one here will hope to miss."
The seven year old bit back a comment about the girl and her worthiness, deciding to focus on his walk instead. As they neared the balcony he could hear the noise level rise, a crowd clearly present down below. Talia's pace was quick but even, graceful despite the speed. Damian easily matched it, and slowed when she did before they reached the entrance to the balcony. They walked side by side, and Damian was met with the sight of his grandfather speaking with two unfamiliar adults.
A man and woman stood together; the woman standing tall and the man with his hands clasped behind his back. Each looked both serious and yet pleased, and there was a similar expression on his grandfather's face. Ra's Al Ghul turned as he came onto the balcony, giving him an approving look. "Welcome, Damian. These are the leaders of The Silent Hand."
Damian looked them both over once more; the woman's eyes were so dark they appeared black, though they still shone. The man looked stern but not impassive. He was aware that his eventual marriage would combine two assassin groups, in turn increasing the size of the League of Assassins. It made sense to meet them, though Damian found himself not concerned in the slightest. The politics of this arrangement were not his current priority. Out of respect he gave a nod, inclining his head slightly. They should be honored to be in his presence, he thought, and so a bow was not necessary.
The two adults parted, and a small form came forwards from behind them. Damian watched, finding it to be the girl, his betrothed. To be fair, she was just about his height, with light brown hair that touched her shoulders. Her eyes were an intense dark blue, darker than he'd ever seen. The clothes she wore were inverse colors of his own, the material red and the designs black and gold. Damian noted the neutral expression she wore, the lack of injuries that had certainly healed since the tournament. He found it hard to believe that this girl had won his hand.
Then again, most people underestimated him as well.
Damian stepped forward to meet her as she came closer, stopping so that there was a foot of distance between them. "This," Ra's said, "is Arabelle Reign, the winner of your hand."
Arabelle leaned forwards, falling elegantly into a bow. "It is an honor to be in your presence, Damian."
He felt pride stir in him, rightfulness emerging at her words. They made him feel more powerful, more in control. Of course, he deserved the respect anyways, but it was pleasing to hear. "Congratulations, Arabelle. You managed to win my hand, hopefully not out of luck."
She rose up slowly, meeting his eyes carefully. He liked that, liked that she wasn't pushing her boundaries. This girl knew who the authority belonged to; he clearly wouldn't have to enforce that on her. "I have trained my entire life to be here today. I promise not to disappoint in whatever it is you wish of me."
Damian had to admit, he understood why his grandfather and mother were happy with her. He gave her an approving smile, much like the one his grandfather had given him. When Damian saw it he knew that he had accomplished something; he assumed that she would feel the same way, though Arabelle did not smile back. Ra's turned towards the crowd below and everyone hushed, listening as he spoke, "Today, I have gathered you together to announce the engagement of my grandson to his worthy victor, Arabelle Reign. With this future union, The League of Assassins will merge with The Silent Hand and become a larger, stronger force."
Cheers rose from below, Damian switching his gaze from the crowd back to his grandfather. "Together we will change the world, as these children will one day carry on this legacy, leading side by side. Today we celebrate their destiny!"
Damian glanced to the girl, who in turn looked to him. He offered out his hand to her and she took it, the crowd of assassins and servants below applauding and cheering. Damian said to her, "It's a long time until then."
"I will be by your side still," Arabelle replied. "It is what I was born to do."
He looked to her fully now, and without really knowing why he asked, "Is there something else you wish to go by?"
She hesitated, and he wondered if it was that hard of a question to answer. Then she said simply, "Ara, if that is alright."
Surprisingly, he found that it was. Why he bothered to ask was a mystery, but if they were to be married one day, he figured, they might as well find some familiarity in them. Sure they had years, more than a decade, to get to know one another. But he decided it would be best to get off on a smooth start; names, though trivial, were a nice beginning point.
"Right then," Damian answered, looking out over the balcony. The crowd was still roaring, cheering on his future. One day he would rule over them, be their leader of extraordinary kind. When that day came, he would have someone by his side who, admittedly, had won his approval. "Congratulations again, Ara. I have a feeling that we will work well together."