Chapter Text
Damian's seventeenth birthday was a curse.
The teenager stared at himself in the mirror, readjusting the tie he was wearing against the black tuxedo Richard bought for him. His soft tan skin and green eyes stuck out like a sore thumb, even with his Bruce Wayne-like stature. He could tell that with his rather late puberty came a change in how he was seen. Tabloids called him the prettiest Wayne son with his so-called exotic beauty that he found gross to hear people label him as. People he never bothered to pay attention to before flocked to his social media and came onto him.
They were fascinated by how unique he appeared and treated him like a petree dish instead of a person. Gotham Live described him as an example of Wayne DNA at its best. He was disgusted by all of this and pushed the comments out of his mind. At least until his family began to make comments. Richard complimented how tall he had gotten in such a short amount of time. Timothy stared, mentioning he looked like a younger, male version of Talia. Father refused to look at him. Damian was well aware of what he looked like, and he wasn't ashamed.
As a Wayne and Al Ghul, he was bound to be unusually alluring. What did bother him was how it changed his status in the eyes of League affiliates as a potential mate. Damian was being courted, and he found it distasteful. Another secret of his mother's he had to bear, one he had only discovered a few weeks prior. An arranged marriage had been set in place, and with his new appearance, his fiancée had decided he was worth the effort of pursuing. He rolled his eyes at the thought of this mysterious betrothal and prepared to depart to the party Richard set up for him.
He knew his resemblance to his grandfather had turned heads, but he could only hope his father behaved. The way the man looked at him recently hurt, and he didn't want their relationship to deteriorate. Especially with a potential son-in-law lurking in the shadows. He would need his entire family's support when the wedding came. Damian had gotten his hands on the contract his mother signed, and it was ironclad. One year, that's all he had to remain an independent entity without a ring on his finger and a sword to his throat. He would prefer that the year be positive overall.
Damian wasn't impressed by his fiancé's appearance, but he was surprised the man was blatant with his presence. He made zero effort in blending into Gotham's exterior environment, sticking out like a sore thumb as he walked over to the teenager. Damian stood on the edge of the building, preparing to jump down onto a fire escape below if the man got too handsy. While he was fairly attractive and was participating in the proper courting rituals, he was still chosen by his grandfather. Which meant his loyalties were as murky as those cloudy grey eyes of his.
The vigilante crossed his arms over his chest and held his head up high as the man came to a stop. They stared at each other, silently sizing one another up as not only potential husbands but as threats. Damian may have reformed from his emotionless killing machine teachings but he could still gut a fool if need be. Even without a weapon, he would put up a fight, and the assassin knew it. He smiled at the teenager who made no move to do the same. Instead, he waited for the man to speak and explain why he was in his father's territory without bothering to ask first.
His fiancé readjusted the various furs covering his massive six-foot-tall body and uttered a sentence in near-perfect Arabic. "Prince, you're as beautiful as your mother."
"Excuse me?" Damian switched back into his mother tongue with ease and rolled his eyes, unamused. "That's nothing but an insult."
"It's the truth, beloved." That word made the teenager's skin crawl and so did the way the man purposely dragged out each syllable.
Damian walked across the edge of the rooftop, his suit tails swaying in the wind as he seethed. "I am not your beloved. You are a pawn sent by my grandfather and I wish to have nothing to do with you."
"You're so angry." The man was grinning even wider now as he watched him so intently it instinctively had the teen paw for a blade. "It's beautiful. Your rage."
To have someone speak to him so boldly was revolting. This creature with too perfect teeth and battle scars hidden under expensive furs was testing his patience. Damian heard the word beautiful but felt hideous knowing someone like this thought they could waltz up to him and speak that way. The man was above-average attractive, wise, but he was not some shallow fool who thought with their lust instead of reasoning. Beauty and poise meant nothing when the soul was rotten.
"Cease your comments before I rip out your tongue." Damian snapped and the fool cooed.
He cooed at him like he was a misbehaving child but still looked at him with desire. It was filthy how the man simultaneously saw him as a little boy and a prize. Damian hated men like that. They sickened him. The seventeen-year-old wanted to grab him by his long brown hair and slam him into the ground. He wanted to destroy him, rid himself of this stupid contract forced upon him the minute he was confirmed to be male in the womb. He had never been ashamed of his identity as the prince of the league until now. If Prince meant selling himself to such a wicked fool, he'd rather die. And take the bastard down with him, of course.
"You can't kill me, little prince. You can hate me. You can wish me dead, but you cannot make a move as agreed upon by your dear mother and grandfather." His fiancé sang a giddy tune as they both knew Damian was trapped with no way out.
The teenager never liked being put in a box. He was a Wayne. Waynes were uncontrollable. Not capable of being labeled. Damian clicked his tongue in annoyance and tried not to appear outwardly agitated. As clearly, the man got off on knowing he was getting under the boy's skin. Snatching away his future of having an actual loving relationship and instead thrusting Damian into his hands.
While he had zero interest in anyone that way, life was too busy for distractions like that. He still wanted the option. Having it snatched away was another sign he was nothing but a tool for these scum. It was maddening, but he maintained his composure and stared without a lick of emotion, good or bad, at the killer. Because Damian knew he had to have bloody hands. No way would his grandfather give to some rich fool who couldn't defend himself or his bride-to-be.
"Then leave me be. Allow me to live my life until my eighteenth birthday as promised." Damian knew the basics of the agreement and that was the only advantage he truly had.
He had only just turned seventeen, which meant he had an entire year to plan for his eventual cage. Time to say goodbye to his family before he was whisked away to be some trophy wife. The demon prince expected the agreement to be respected if the man expected Damian not to harm him. The fool seemed to acknowledge his mistake as his smile finally fell and his expression became much colder.
He towered over the teenager, coming closer so he looked down at the rather tall boy. Damian was already big for his age, so this meant the man was a giant. Built for war, as he'd been. A self-deprecating thought left the teenager's lips as he realized they married him off to a weapon like he was some useless sow. God, he wanted to laugh. They truly never cared, did they?
They never cared about him, but still he couldn't help but go through with the deal made in blood. "I won't run when my birthday comes. So, you do not need to stalk me and behave like a child."
"I'm not stalking you. I was merely seeing my future bride for the first time in years. The last time I laid eyes on you, you were in your mother's belly." The sick freak made his stomach tighten and Damian had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing him to the depths of hell.
He gritted his teeth, counted down before speaking in a stilted tone. "You disgusting cretin. You will never touch me, or else you'll lose your life."
The man only cocked his head to the side and stared at him with cold eyes. "Little prince, I'm sure you've read what your mother signed. I can do whatever I want as long as you are breathing and your superior DNA is intact for extraction."
"Touch me," Damian repeated without a hint of hesitation or fear in his body. "And I will make sure your hand is gone. Don't tempt me, pervert."
As he threatened the man, the giant leaned downward and pressed so close their foreheads were touching. He breathed onto the teenager's face and Damian glared, not even the least bit intimidated by the gesture. If the man expected him to cower and scream for help like a child, he was an idiot. Damian would make him suffer if he ever tried to touch him in the way his sick desires requested.
He was not a doll to be positioned and played with. He was a killer, a hero, a robin. He would never let some strange man with the fake title of husband come here and tame him. He bared his teeth at the grey-eyed man and watched him smile back with satisfaction at making the teenager's composure crack, slightly. Damian ground his teeth together as he lamented that, of course, the bastard his grandfather saddled him with would be into his bloodlust. The man was pratically drooling as he watched the boy turn red with every pedophilic statement that left his lips.
Damian wasn't going to play into his public masturbation ritual, and he wasn't going to turn into a scared little boy, either. He was going to survive with his pride intact. Every threat he told the giant was the truth, every word with the same weight of hatred that could make scum cry. This fiancé of his was not to his level and he never would be. Damian could barely stand the sight of him. His presence sat atop his chest like a massive weight, and he wanted to vomit.
His fiancé sniffed him as the mutt Damian saw him as before, pulling away and smirking. "I was teasing, prince. You look adorable all riled up."
"I am not one to be toyed with." The teenager deadpanned.
The killer chuckled as if he had said a cute joke and said cheerfully. "You'll grow used to it with time. It was nice seeing you, Damian."
The conversation ended there with the other assassin vanishing into the shadows he came from. Damian felt the tightness in his chest unravel, and he exhaled softly. He was grateful that none of his siblings had been on patrol in the area, as that could have made it all so much worse. He couldn't have any of them involved in this. This was his sin to bear as the heir to the league, as the perfect experiment that his grandfather spent so much time developing. They'd stay out of it as long as he was breathing, even if that meant having to deceive them.
"–hey! Demon brat. You told me you were going to tell me about what had your panties in a twist, and then you just zoned out." His brother's voice knocked him out of the memory before the teenager finished stabbing his bed.
Damian dropped the kitchen knife with a sigh and gave his brother a disinterested look. He couldn't tell the man the truth. Too much was at risk, and he knew that out of everyone in the family, Jason would be the most likely to try to hunt the bastard down. He had no idea what resources the fool had at his disposal, so a direct attack was out of the question. Fantasizing about slitting the creep's throat, however, was always on the table.
The man had really been testing him since that fateful night. Damian wasn't stupid. He could feel the killer lurking around his school and the animal shelter he volunteered at. Always in a different car, in a new outfit with thick sunglasses on that made nearby women swoon. The bastard was doing it to try and make him nervous, but all it caused was Damian's rage to quadruple. He wasn't some meek child who'd cry stranger danger and piss themselves. All the man was doing was showcasing his unworthiness to all of Gotham.
He would never be scared of that coward. Even if he did manage to bed him, Damian wouldn't allow himself to experience pleasure from the encounter. He would go numb and block out all the responses his body made until he had the right opportunity to make him suffer. The threat of being assaulted was something he took to heart and every waking moment he seethed over it. To think that he deserved to take his virginity, to sleep with him of all people, such a man needed to die.
Holding his weapon, Damian shrugged and gave Jason a neutral glance. "I'm fine. Just exhausted from patrol as of late."
That wasn't exactly a lie. He had been so distracted by his false husband's presence that he'd been slipping. Struggling to get any sleep as he sensed the man watching him from miles away. It was like a radar had been implanted into his brain with the teenager's knowledge to let him know whenever the creep thought of him. The prince would lay awak with only his animals and Manga to keep him distracted as the fool licked his lips at the idea of tarnishing him. Soiling his dignity as assassin royalty before parading him around as his whore. Damian knew that's what the man desired and he couldn't just go on patrol like normal with that nagging at him.
His siblings knew nothing of this and assumed it was teenage rebellion again. "You have been really bratty. Almost like the old Dami is possessing you."
"I have a right to be a brat when I'm surrounded by buffoons." He snapped back without even taking a moment to think of a response, the sass being a genetic trait.
Jason threw his hands in the air and whistled. "Goddamn demon baby. Don't go backsliding on me."
The teenager just growled as his mind was too occupied to deal with the man's prodding. He let his brother leave the room as he sat there, processing the bullshit his grandfather got him in. Todd would definitely skewer his fiancé if he met him. He would have the man in an early grave if he knew what he was saying to the teenager. Hell, Richard would lose his goddamn mind if he knew even just a sliver of the truth.
Damian was not doubting the skills of any of his siblings. Even Timothy could pack a punch. What he was worrying about was the hidden details, the bread and the butter. This fiancé of his had to have leverage he could use besides tormenting him with his perversion. He had to have something that left the League intrigued. He chewed on his bottom lip and continued glaring a hole into his bedroom wall as his future really settled in. The assassin really needed to figure this bastard out.
This determination to solve the puzzle that was his fiancé kept him paralyzed mentally, becoming a fixation his siblings noticed. The teenager sat at the kitchen table, sketching an animal he had seen at a petting zoo when his father came in. He watched the man stand there awkwardly, shifting from place to place as he tried to muster up the courage to talk to his own child. The teenager once would have gotten upset by this behavior, but by now, he was used to it. He finished coloring the eye of the bird he was creating, making the pupil stick out before he spoke.
"You've been avoiding me because I look like grandfather." Damian said in his usual matter-of-fact tone, not showing whether the rejection bothered him.
Father frowned and came out of the hall to step into the light, stiff as a board and gruff as he denied what was so obvious. "No, Damian. That was never the case."
The ink bird looked up at the prince as he tilted his head, addressing the older man with genuine curiosity. "Then why do you flinch when you look at me? Why did you ice me out again after all my progress and stare at me like I was disgusting?"
"Damian, no." His father looked distraught, but he made no move to hug the boy or even look in his eyes. "You just look so much like your mother. It surprised me."
Talia. His father was reminiscing about his mother when he saw him, not his grandfather. It wasn't that different in Damian's eyes. While he loved his mother dearly and understood she cared for him beyond his weapon status, Father did not. His siblings cursed her name, including Jason, who had more complex feelings towards the woman but ultimately had a level of resentment that got under the teenager's skin when verbally mentioned. Father viewed his mother as a seductress who manipulated him into having a child. She lied to him and toyed with his heart to get a leg up when it came to gaining power in the eyes of the league.
His mother was a villain to his father, so her son must be the same. The bird he drew mocked him with its innocent gaze as he sat there with the knowledge that his DNA was what was wrong. He had her eyes, he had her skin tone, and her cunning nature. If he looked more like Father or more like his adopted siblings, like Richard in puberty, Father wouldn't be so upset. He would be able to look at him and see him as something good, not something sinful. His grip on his drawing pen tightened as he reminded himself to maintain composure and to not show his disappointment.
"Alright. I apologize for assuming." Damian said softly before returning to his task.
"You have nothing to apologize for, son. I should have cleared this up with you, and I'm sorry for making you think I saw you as him." He appreciated his father's apology, but he knew that as he aged, he would look more and more like his grandfather.
That was his fate. His DNA was a cage he could never escape.