Chapter Text
Damian used to have a routine back in the league.
He used to wake up, go to the bathroom, go to the toilet, then he would wash his hand and brush his teeth, after that is all done he would go and make wudu ; in which he would wash his hands three times, then he would cup water in to his hands and to his mouth, and sort of gurgle the water and spit it out, also three times. Then, he would cup the water into his hands, again, and bring it up to his nose and inhale and blow out the water thrice. He would then wash his face. After, he would wash his lower arms from his wrist to his elbow, three times. Then he would gently, using his wet hands, wipe his entire head, from his forehead to the back of his head, and wipe it again, forward from the back of his head to his forehead, once each time. He would then wipe his ears, using his thumb to clean behind his ear from the bottom upward. Once. Then he would wash both his feet, from his toes to his ankles, thrice.
After making wudu, he would get his prayer mat out and pray fajr , the first prayer of the day, when he would finish he would lay his head on the mat and just.. breathe.
His mother would usually find him like this and she would smile a small smile and come sit next to him on the floor, she would bring him in a tight embrace, kiss his forehead and whisper stories and duaa’s ; prayers of invocation, supplication and requests, in his ear.
After a little while, they would both get into his bed and read the Quran together.
When the clock would hit four they would both get up, his mother going to her room and him staying in his, to change their clothes to their everyday regalia.
After changing, Damian would patiently wait for his mother to once again enter his room, when she would, they would both go to the dining hall to eat breakfast in silence.
After eating, they would seperate, his mother to her duties and him to his studies, or training, depending on the day.
When it is time for zuhr prayer; after the sun reaches its zenith, he would stop whatever he was doing and go to his room, make wudu and pray.
He would go back to his studies, or training after.
At around 2 to 3 o’clock, he would stop to go eat lunch, meeting up with his mother halfway to the dining hall.
As they ate, they would talk about whatever it was he was learning, be it new moves or new facts.
After lunch, it would usually be the time for asr prayer; the afternoon prayer, so, they would once again separate to make wudu and pray.
After praying asr, Damian and his mother would get together again for a walk to the stables, in which Damian would greet his favorite horse; Farah; meaning joy in Arabic, while his mother would greet her favored steed; Amina, Farah’s mother.
They would ride their horses, playing little games and laughing all the way, it was Damian’s most favorite time of the day.
As the sun would begin to set, they would come back home, to the stables, and stay with their steed’s for a little while, grooming them and taking care of them, making sure everything was alright then they would both part ways, Damian would go and take a shower, then he would make wudu, he would change his clothes then pray magrib; the sunset prayer.
Then he would change his clothes again to his more formal prince regalia.
He would wait for his mother to come fetch him and then they would go the long way to Grandfather’s palace.
They would both present themselves to him and as always would sit slightly behind his throne, assigning and awaiting for mission reports for and from Grandfather’s subjects, or, watching traitors be excuted, when such things were done, and when the people were dismissed, Damian and his mother would stand in front of Grandfather and await any new assignments or missions.
At that time it would usually be around 8 to 9 p.m, when finishing with grandfather they would make their way back home, separating, and they would both quickly make wudu and pray Isha; the night prayer and the last prayer of the day.
After praying Isha, Damian would grab his Quran and read while on the prayer mat for a while, after he would make dua and fold his prayer mat to change his clothes to his less formal regalia and go to the dining hall, where his mother would usually be seated and they would eat dinner in either silence or they would talk, it depended on the day.
Then, his mother would come with him to his room where she would wait for him to get ready for bed; brush his teeth, get into comfortable pajamas, and then they would both get into his bed and she would hold him and recite Quran, lulling him to sleep.
Of course, it was different on days in which they would get assigned missions from grandfather, which really only happened once a month for Damian, his mother thrice a month, and so on most days this was their routine.
It was of course ruined when Slade Wilson decided to attack Grandfather and Damian’s mother decided that he would be placed with his father and his fathers brood, whom Damian is not excited to see at all.
Their routine was currently ruined anyway as they had been flying all over to get to America ( America! Damian’s father was American! That meant Damian himself was half American! Oh, how Damian despairs.) discreetly.
They would fly to a country and stay there for a couple days with fake identity’s and then take another flight and repeat the process.
Once, when they were in Italy, staying at a low star hotel, Damian brought up the subject of his father with mother.
“Mama,” he began, “can you tell me more about my father?”
She sighed, then she patted the seat next to her, he, of course, would never deny his mother, came to sit next to her where she hugged him to her side putting her head on his, “Your father..”
“Your father is a man of many talents, and your grandfather had seen that talent and had taken him in to the league. We met one day, and your grandfather had wanted him closely monitored and he had chosen me for that task and so, we started doing everything together, we trained together, we went on missions together-“
Damian cut her off, “sorry, mama, but, didn’t you say that father doesn’t kill? How is it that you went on missions together?”
He felt her smile into his hair, “clever boy,” she praised, “yes, your father doesn’t kill, but that didn’t mean he didn’t go on missions, he just didn’t kill.”
Damian blinked, the idea that Grandfather had agreed to train someone who went against grandfather’s ideals so literally was astounding and very unusual. The fact that his father was the one to do so, well, maybe Damian could overlook his American status.
“You know he is The Bat,” memories of people calling him ‘Ibn al Xu'ffasch’ came to mind, “What you don’t know is that he is also Buce Wayne.”