THE HEIR RETURNS WITH FIRE AND A DRAGON"
The League fortress had seen many impossible things over the centuries—
but never this.
As the gates groaned open, assassins lined the courtyard, weapons hidden but hands tense.
Then they froze.
A shadow passed overhead, followed by a gust of wind strong enough to shake banners loose.
A black dragon—sleek, powerful, with sharp green eyes—landed behind a lone figure.
Toothless.
The Night Fury hissed softly, wings folding as Damian Wayne stepped past him, cloak fluttering.
The assassins didn't move.
Some nearly stumbled backward.
A dragon was not part of their training.
Assassin (whispering):
"Is that… a demon?"
Another:
"No.
That is the Heir's… creature."
THE WALK THROUGH THE FORTRESS
Damian didn't look left or right.
He walked like he owned the ground beneath him—because one day he intended to.
Toothless followed him closely, watching every assassin with the same intensity as a trained warhound.
When Damian reached the inner courtyard, he found the welcoming committee waiting.
**Lady Shiva.
Cheshire.
Andre Chaumont.
Several elite masters.
And finally—Talia al Ghul.**
Every expression was different:
Shiva's eyes sharpened, evaluating the dragon like a new opponent to defeat.
Cheshire smirked, impressed and amused.
Chaumont stiffened, unsure whether to kneel or draw a blade.
Talia froze, shock breaking through her assassin's composure.
Talia (softly, to Damian):
"…You brought a dragon."
Damian:
"He's family."
Toothless chirped and nudged Damian's shoulder.
Even Shiva's eyebrow twitched upward—rare admiration.
But there was no time for reunions.
Damian entered the throne chamber.
Toothless sat outside the heavy doors, guarding them.
AUDIENCE WITH THE DEMON'S HEAD
Ra's al Ghul sat upon his throne like an ancient king, watching his grandson approach.
Damian didn't bow.
He inclined his head—a gesture of respect, not submission.
Damian:
"Grandfather."
Ra's al Ghul:
"Welcome home, my boy."
The words carried centuries of pride and menace.
Damian stepped forward, voice steady.
Damian:
"Before we discuss the deal…
you must hear one thing first."
The assassins hidden in the shadows leaned in.
Talia stiffened.
Shiva's eyes widened.
Damian's aura shifted—calm, royal, absolute.
Damian (firm):
"Someday, I will take your place."
The room froze.
Damian:
"I will become the next Demon's Head.
I will command the League of Assassins.
I will lead it stronger than ever before."
Shock rippled like a physical blow:
Talia's hand covered her mouth.
Shiva's eyes widened—respect blooming.
Cheshire whispered, "He really said it…"
The elites exchanged terrified glances.
Even the silent assassins hidden in the rafters gasped.
And Ra's al Ghul…
For the first time in years—
He closed his eyes and exhaled.
Not anger.
Not disappointment.
Relief.
His bloodline would not end with him.
Ra's al Ghul (soft, rare warmth):
"You… intend to claim your birthright?"
Damian:
"Yes.
But not today."
He stepped closer, voice deepening.
Damian:
"This world is evolving.
Technology is progressing faster than shadows can hide.
Even you cannot stay invisible forever.
And if the League does not evolve—
it will die."
Ra's listened silently.
Damian:
"I will protect my birthright with everything I have—
but I will do it my way."
His voice grew colder.
Damian:
"I am not Batman.
I do not follow his rules.
I will kill when necessary.
I will protect the League.
And I will protect the Bat-Family."
Every assassin felt the power in his words.
He was not choosing between families.
He was claiming both.
Damian continued:
Damian:
"I still need time.
Time to grow.
Time to surpass my limits.
Time to learn things that no one in this world has mastered yet."
He straightened his shoulders.
Damian:
"So until that time comes—
I offer you a deal.
A pact to ensure the League survives every threat that is coming."
Silence.
Ancient.
Heavy.
Electric.
Ra's al Ghul's eyes sharpened, glowing faintly.
Ra's al Ghul:
"…What is the deal, my grandson?"