#citranna rambles

[citranna]

I feel like the main difference between Cassandra’s and Damian’s childhoods is affection, and what leads them to struggle after the fact.

Although some like to write Damian’s upbringing as cold and unforgiving—which it was, don’t get me wrong—people tend to forget that there were most definitely good moments peppered in. It wasn’t all bad. Talia loves her son so much it hurts, and despite the harsh training she allowed him moments of weakness, hidden away from everyone else. Instructors who were too hard on him were punished, and as heir apparent he could be doted on in the form of luxuries one could only dream of affording.

Ras wasn’t all bad either in some comics. You can see moments where it’s very obvious he loves his daughter and his grandson. Although it’s most obvious in his braid era in Robin (2021) and onwards, it’s clear that even during Damian’s time with the league he has soft moments. His weakness, the weakness he so vehemently detests, is his family. Multiple times he refuses to raise a sword to his daughter and grandson. He expresses pride in both of them. What he does, he does out of what he believes is necessity. The horrors he witnessed drove him to this point; his strong desire to protect the Earth comes from this. After all, where else did Damian get his love of animals from?

Imagine Ras reading a story to him before bed, on those few nights where he can step away from it all, and not find it in his heart to critique Damian’s form during training that day. A rich and sweeping tale spoken from the heart, weaving stories of boys and wolves and grand oak. Talia teaching him basic, domestic chores in pauses in-between sword fighting. He may be the future demons head, but it’s important to know how to do these things himself. Laughs shared as he fumbles with hanging up linen, menial gossip from one to another as they fix rips in his uniform.

Small moments like these make it all the more difficult to let go of that past he clung so tightly to. It wasn’t all ugly hurt and dripping wounds. There were moments that were so filled with love he felt like he could burst, even if they weren’t regular. People call the Al Ghul’s (and him by extension) monsters. Heartless beings who strike the innocent. But Damian has seen the beautiful, the good, the warmth. He was born an Al Ghul and will die one (again, and again, and again). Worse yet, the cave he spends most his nights in is cold and damp, his father’s affections arguably as fleeting at his mother’s. Who could blame him for his hesitancy? Isn’t it better the devil you know anyways?

With Cass it’s an entirely different ball game. She is not being raised as an heir. She is not being raised as a royal. She is not being raised as a human. She is being forged in hellfire to become a perfect weapon, sharpened and refined without a single fleck of imperfection. She only has one life life in David Cain, the only human she gets consistent interaction with it, most of it being negative. The first eight years of her life are defined by pain and suffering.

The things they do are disguised as games. Dodge this bullet, find this knife before it finds you. She laughs and smiles as she does it all, because even something as inherent and human as that cannot be removed from the soul. This is joy to her. This is all she knows, and no one can tell her otherwise, even as another shell lodges itself in her tiny, tiny leg. There are no stories, no hugs, no shared laughter. Only smiles that don’t quite look like the pictures of joy she studied, looks of pride that seem the slightest bit misplaced.

That moment when her hand plunged into that man’s throat—even as the life slowly left his eyes, the smile as she thinks she won another game remains unwavering. It’s only when she turns around and sees the corpse for what it is does she feel the overwhelming feeling of dread and guilt. Her hands are stained red, and everything else slowly snaps into place afterwards. Was it really fun? Was it really love? Does she even know what it was in the first place? At eight years old she disappears into the night, never to be seen by her father, her captor, ever again.

During those nine years on the road, without house or home to call her own, do you think she would try to cling on to that one good moment? That night where David showed her the prettiest pink dress she’d ever seen, and carefully brushed her hair into two pink pigtails, decorated with soft pink bows. Calloused hands grazing her scalp ever so slightly, the only gentle touch she can remember. Or would she do her best to forget it? To cast that one moment down into the abyss, only remembering the bad so she can move on uninhibited? Every other good moment wasn’t truly a good moment—she realizes that soon after. But that one time. That one good day. Does it change everything or nothing?

Despite being both raised as assassins, LEAGUE assassins, there’s so much difference and nuance to the two it’d be a disservice to treat them as similar. Imagine the awkward tension between the two of them, with Cassandra being raised as a bodyguard to Ras and Damian his heir. Would there be resentment? Understanding? Wanting? To both of them he is a man entirely out of reach but a looming figure over their life at the same time. Sorry for rambling I just love both of them so much 😓