Prologue
"Lacrimosa dies illa/ Qua resurget ex favilla/ Judicandus homo reus." (Mournful be that day/When from the ashes shall rise/ The man to be judged) -Lacrimosa; Mozart
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Below Dormus Aurea in Rome in a small alcove, a devilish scream pierced the stale, musty air as an aged man clawed to the surface of a pool of acid green liquid, eyes rolled back, green liquid poured from his mouth. The aged man desperately searched for the edge of the pool and instead found the hand of a black-clothed servant-who had been patiently waiting in the shadows. The servant pulled him out and offered him an immaculately folded white towel. The man, one Ra's Al Ghul, sneered, but took the proffered towel, dried himself and found his clothes folded in the same immaculate way in the corner.
"You'll not take Kaden, Father. He's not yours to take." Ra's tightened the belt on his trousers roughly as Talia's words echoed in his mind. Not his. It made his blood boil that his daughter thought she could order him to not do something.
Ra's knew Talia had hidden something-or someone-from him. He knew the signs; Talia started to withdraw, kept secrets, went on mysterious missions that he didn't authorize nor would she debrief him on these missions and then-one day-she suddenly came back to him fine, but she'd never answer any questions. She'd done this when she was pregnant with Damian; he should have known something was amiss when she had become distant sixteen years ago.
He finished dressing and turned to his servant. "Get the plane ready," the servant bowed and silently walked off to make arrangements to return to Nanda Parbat, the League's and Ra's home high in the peaks of Tibet. The memory of his daughter's defiance and betrayal replayed in his mind.
Ra's stood in the study of his villa in Rome, looking out of the floor-ceiling windows, a glass of perfectly aged red wine in hand, a derisive look on his face as he watched the people below scurrying around like rats in a sewer. Ra's didn't move a muscle when he heard the double doors behind him open silently. He knew his daughter's tall tell walk too well; he simple waited for her to come to him, back towards her, for his daughter to tell whatever prattle she was going to tell this time. He knew not saying anything was the best way to undo her.
"You'll not take Kaden, father. He's not yours to take," Talia said defiantly, a few steps behind him, hand on her sword. Ra's glanced down at his glass, a pensive look on his face. He sipped the wine then slowly turned to face his daughter.
"Who, may I ask, are you to tell me-Ra's Al Ghul, the Demon's Head-what I can and cannot do?" he asked in a calm, even tone. Talia remained where she was, expression darkening as she took a threatening step forward.
"Neither Kaden nor Damian nor I am yours to control. I suggest you learn to live with that fact. You'll not lay a hand on Kaden or-"
"Or what, Talia?" Ra's interrupted with a slight smirk tugging at his lips. Talia stared her father down, holding his gaze in silence for several long moments before Ra's took a threatening step of his own. "You must think yourself clever. Believing this...child to have been some secret from me these last sixteen years. You cannot hide anything from me, daughter." Ra's, eyes still locked on his daughter's, took a sip of his wine. Talia gave a derisive snort, before turning on her heel and storming out of the room.
The next time he encountered her in Rome, she drew the family knife out and dug it into his brain, killing him. His loyal servant brought him to the little known Lazarus Pit in Dormus Aurea to resurrect him. It wasn't pleasant to die by his daughter's hand. He could no longer trust nor count on his daughter; he needed a replacement.
Bruce Wayne was old, and he would never use the Lazarus Pit. His grandson, Damian, was a failure, having fallen prey to Bruce's weakness. All of his training, all of his teaching, gone. Bruce seemed to have a nasty habit of turning people against him.
That left this...child, Kaden Todd. The son of Jason Todd, a broken street rat of little value. Each of Bruce's protégés were talented, true, but none could measure up to Ra's high standards, not like Bruce had so many decades before. But Jason, he was especially...inferior...with his anger and his rage. Any child of his could not possibly be of any value. But the fact Talia had given birth to his child? It sickened him. This thing was a mistake, a blot on the Al Ghul legacy and it had to be dealt with immediately before it grew older.