Chapter Text
Talia had been expecting one child. That was all she really needed, one boy to carry on her father’s legacy. She had a room prepared far in advanced, full of whatever a young infant would need. She had a name picked, a strong one, one worthy of his station as her father’s heir. As her son. She even had his instructors lined up already, though she knew he wouldn’t need them for several years yet.
Talia was ready for a child. She hadn’t been nearly prepared for two.
But it was two boys born that day, the first only a minute before the other. Her father had been thrilled. The heir and the spare, he called them. She named them Danial and Damian.
As they grew, Talia couldn’t help but notice how similar they were. Their facial features were near identical and their raven black hair both the same shade. The only difference she could see physically was their eyes, Damian’s being as vivid of a green as her own while Danial’s were a bright blue. His father’s blue.
The two were practically inseparable, whether it was training or for missions. They would become a fearsome duo in the future, more so than they are now. The only possible hiccup was Danial.
He was her son and lived up to that title just as well as Damian did. His skill and intuition only matched by his brother at their age. But the more she watched them, the more his personality would show through his perfect son act.
Danial was soft. She hated to admit it, but it was true. The boys were good at keeping it a secret. But that wouldn’t matter soon. Their first solo missions were coming up and Danial wouldn’t be able to hide behind his brother forever.
Talia may have not have been ready for two children when they were born, but she certainly didn’t want to go back to one.
-
Talia watched her child closely. This was his first solo mission, of course she would be there to witness it, whether she was supposed to or not. As an Al Goul, everyone was convinced that Danial would have no problem.
Talia wasn’t so sure.
Assassinations were Danial’s one weak point, though he and Damian certainly did a good job hiding it. Not many could tell the difference between the two boys once in uniform; so as long as one of them killed the mark no one ever questioned which. But Talia could tell them apart anywhere. She knew Danial had never killed a mark given to him. It had always been Damian. Damian covering for Danial.
She wondered what he would do without his brother’s protection. Would he complete his mission? Talia hoped he would, for his sake.
But as she watched him, it became increasingly clear that he would not.
Danial broke into the house flawlessly, not making a sound as he slipped from shadow to shadow. Before long he had his mark pinned to the ground with his ninjato pressed against their neck.
But he didn’t finish it off. Instead he stood there, hesitating. There was a shake in his arms, and his breath was quick.
Talia knew he wouldn’t do it long before he let the target go, disappearing back through the window.
She took a brief moment to finish the target herself before following the boy. Danial ran for a while, weaving through the streets in a panic. It was over an hour before he stopped, hiding breathless behind a dumpster.
A sob made her pause in her approach. He had tears streaming down his face now that his mask lay abandoned on the concrete. His hands covered his mouth but the sound had already escaped.
Danial was crying.
Danial never cried. He and his brother had been taught early that tears gained them nothing except trouble. Yet here he was, crying behind a dumpster.
Did he cry often when no one was around to witness? If so, when? How often? Would Damian know?
She brushed that thought aside. Of course Damian would know. Those two shared everything.
“Not everything,” She reminded herself almost silently as she watched the boy unable to kill as he cried behind the dumpster. They certainly didn’t share Danial’s soft nature.
“Um, hello?” a girl peaked out of a nearby doorway, ginger hair tied back in a small ponytail. She was maybe eleven or twelve in age, wearing a black sweater and a turquoise skirt while awkwardly wielding a bat as defense. As soon as the girl caught sight of Danial, she set the bat down. If she noticed Danial’s assassin clothes, she didn’t seem to care. “Are…are you alright?”
Danial stared at the girl like he didn’t understand the question. The girl continued.
“Why are you crying behind my house? Are you lost?” The girl tried again. Talia watched, curious as Danial’s tears started to slow but he still he otherwise didn’t respond. “Do you need help getting home?”
“No, I…” Danny paused, before mumbling something that Talia couldn’t hear.
“You’re homeless?!” the girl said with a gasp. “Do you have any family?”
“Mother and my brother,” he answered, wiping the tears off his face with his sleeve. More replaced them shortly after but it was a start. “But…I can’t go where they are.”
That explained some things. Danial already understood his predicament. He already knew he would die if he went home failing his mission.
“Oh, they’re dead,” the girl said to herself, jumping to the wrong conclusion. Danial didn’t correct her. “I’m so sorry. Do you have anywhere else to go?”
Danial only shook his head.
“Then you can stay with me. I’m sure my parents won’t mind,” she said with a smile. “My name is Jazz, by the way. What’s yours?”
“Dan-“ Danial hesitated before continuing. “-ny. Just Danny.”
“Nice to meet you, Danny,” Jazz held out her hand for him to take. Danial did so cautiously, letting her pull him to his feet and start leading him through the door. “This is going to be great. It will be just like having a little brother.”
Talia watched as her son was led into a cozy looking kitchen. He was already starting to relax as he stepped across the threshold.
He would fit well in this mundane world.
The thought surprised her. But she already knew it to be true. This would be his world as much as the assassin world was hers.
After all, what use was an assassin that could not kill? It would be better for everyone if he stayed here as nothing more than a basic civilian. But her father would never allow it. If he was not of any use to him, then he wouldn’t let him be a use to anyone.
But maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need to know.
Once the coast was clear, Talia dropped into the alleyway. She picked up the forgotten mask and ninjato. Sparing one look at the now closed door, she used the blade to slice the mask in half before turning it onto her palm.
Ignoring the sting, she smeared the blood over the blade and mask until it looked less painted on and more natural. Until it looked like the owner could not have possibly made it out alive.
Tucking the pieces away in her bag, she knew her father wouldn’t question her on this. He trusted her enough that if she brought even the smallest proof of death, he would let it be. He still had one grandchild, after all. Unless that were to change, he wouldn’t look into it any farther than that. No one would ever know about her deception, or Danial’s failure.
As far as everyone would be concerned, Danial Al Goul was dead.
But Danny, Danny would live.