The Boy in Black

Prologue: Zero Day

A/N: Hello Lovelies! I'm so excited to finally start sharing with you guy's this story that I have been working since January. I feel this style of writing is really me at my best; so I hope you all enjoy this concept. That being said, I just want to emphasize for those of you who are not familiar with my work, or better yet, aren't familiar with my work outside of comedy and fluff, that this story is heavily based off Hamlet. Therefor there are certain themes that are imperative for this story to work, so please keep an open mind while reading it. These themes include and are not limited to: Loss, grief, poor mental health, self medication, rage, revenge, angst, questioning one's own existence, betrayal, murder, thoughts of suicide, a problematic mother son relationship, complicated relationships in general, a heathy dose of readers interpretation and sometimes literally NOTHING. So please feel free to leave me your thoughts, but before you go all coo-coo for for co-co puffs on me just keep in mind this story is very stylized and adheres to a story arch that is intended to follow a particular set of events. That being said, of course I'm gonna play with these themes and try and mold them to these character we know and love to try and tell a fresh tale that's exciting and worth your time. I've been wanting to do DC version of Hamlet forever, but it wasn't until I really came to understand Damian as a character that it all really clicked. So with that I'm gonna end my little rant now and I hope you guys enjoy this one. I'm gifting this to by friends Jen and Vi as they've both help me greatly through this process. So thank you guys for putting up with me a being great friends. P.s All art added to this story is by the very talented Esme13 you can find her stuff in this years Damirae Zine where we did a collaboration and also on Tumblr! Thank you Esme for all you feedback and these gorgeous sketches ❤️❤️❤️With Love -Ophelia

He arrived in Gotham dressed in solid black, as though mourning the day he was to meet the man who fathered him. The black line of Lincolns drove along the city streets, as if a funeral procession delivering him to his final destination, deep within the earth. The people of the city watched the peculiar, but impressive site. Unbeknownst to them, their once lost prince had returned, hidden just out of sight beyond the darkened glass. His face was heavy, as though he'd been dragged to America in chains, leaving behind the life he'd known somewhere in the east: leaving behind the only father he'd known. Damian was regarded as the Son of the Demon's Head, after all. His only heir, but far too young to sit atop his throne.

Damian al' Ghul was born the son of Ra's al Ghul's only legitimate and favorite daughter, Talia. A woman of great status, bred from a long line of warriors and noble blood. She was formidable in combat and remarkably intuitive: As deadly as she was beautiful, and beautiful she was. Damian inherited many of her finest qualities. He was a brilliant fighter, his keen senses lending themselves to his ability to strategize, his sharpened wit ever at work playing through scenarios and sequences of battle. But it was unknowingly his father's obsessive nature that absolutely made him such an accomplished young swordsman.

Damian, though pleased with the treatment and training of his beloved grandfather, would have been lying if he said the identity of whom his true father never crossed his young mind. He'd suspected, based on his proper Christian name and some of his features, that his father was of western descent. There were also a few rumors among the servants as to whom the boy's father may have been: Mainly several of his mother's past lovers, or more disturbingly, Ra's himself. Damian found that little more than shallow gossip. There was only one name he felt had any real standing: A Mercenary, well known and well trained. A commemorated war hero, notably respected and possessed many of the qualities that Damian was so fortunate to inherit. It made sense, but in the end, maybe it didn't? Nor did it fully matter to anyone but Damian. So it appeared no one truly knew his parentage. Every man was a story or conquest, passed down second hand by the cleverness of their servants. Until the day his mother told him she would take him to America.