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Jason had some experience interpreting the mood of the League’s assassins. Oddly enough, his time with Bruce had helped a lot in interpreting micro gestures and also in being able to read Talia better.
Jason didn’t know how to interpret larger emotions.
Half of the assassins who were supposed to be training in the square laughed delightedly, while others scurried excitedly through the hallways, not having time to pay Jason even a little attention.
“You don’t see that every day, do you?” asked the deep voice of Bronze Tiger, and Jason looked up at him dismissively. He could see exactly how the other enjoyed knowing more than he did. Jason found it rather annoying.
“Is the old man on vacation or why are they all freaking out?”
Bronze Tiger snorted, and Jason feared that had been a laugh. “Not on vacation, but close.”
Jason’s eyes widened, and that Bronze Tiger was actually grinning confirmed Jason’s suspicions.
“So, Ra’s al Ghul finally bit the dust? How sad.”
“Show a little more respect,” a voice hissed from the shadows, and Talia stepped forward. Actually, she should be used to Jason learning a lot by now, but showing respect was a lesson he’d always skipped so far.
“Why should I? He’s done nothing to earn my respect.”
Talia looked at him coldly from green eyes, and her smile was dangerous. A weaker man would have ducked his head now and prayed for forgiveness. Jason would never have dreamed of this course of action. Talia had pushed him into the Lazarus pit. Now she had to live with the consequences of his life as well.
“My father has already feared for the last few years that his time is running out, but unfortunately, his certain ... successors are not suitable.”
Jason raised an eyebrow and simply pointed at Talia. “Are you a ghost or what’s wrong with you?”
“Rule number one of my successor: he should be male,” Talia quoted from a rulebook that could only have come from Ra’s pocket. Jason sighed.
“No offense, Talia, but your dad is an ass.”
“I’ll agree with you on that one for once. The next rules don’t make it any better. He was obsessed with Bruce succeeding him, but since my beloved fled the League, he’s breaking Rule 23: ‘My successor must not have violated the rules of this place.’”
“Leaving aside that, I’m sure Bruce has no interest in leaving his beloved Gotham,” Jason muttered, but was quite glad that Talia didn’t heed that with a comment. Whenever they talked about Bruce, it got weird. He then felt like a little kid who had had a little fight with his father. But it hadn’t been just a little fight, and Jason would never feel safe in Gotham again.
“And yet my father thought it wise to include Rule 56. ‘My successor must be a member of the Wayne family.”
“Are you shitting me?” asked Bronze Tiger in shock, taking the book from Talia’s hand, only to find himself in the next moment looking after an Assassin hurrying through the shadows. “How is this to be understood? How is that supposed to be possible? Does the bastard want the League to be led by a child for the next ten years?”
Talia’s expression, if possible, darkened even more. Jason wasn’t too happy with the idea of Damian having to rule over this cult, either. “No. Two pages down. Rule 71, ‘My successor must have reached the age of seventeen.’”
Jason couldn’t help but shake his head. “What does that mean now? Who’s in charge here now? Because if you tell me right now that Dick is going to show up here and be in charge, I’m going to pack my bags and get out of here.”
“Bruce never officially adopted Richard Grayson.”
Jason’s hands balled into fists. Of course, Bruce had overlooked that little detail, even though Dick had been with Bruce much longer than Jason had.
“Wait... Does that mean?” asked Jason, and Talia nodded.
That very day, Jason was placed on a throne. No one asked him what he thought about it. He was glad of it, because he hadn’t had enough time to think about it. For the moment, he let it wash over him willy-nilly.
A few hours later, he understood what an opportunity had arisen. It was time to revolutionize this old society.
His first official act was to place several orders under different names so that they could provide each assassin with his own copy of Pride and Prejudice.
His second official act? He had the robes of the Demon’s Head changed. Talia had wrinkled her nose, but Jason wasn’t going to spend two months learning how to walk with a cloak which reached to the floor. The first time he tried it, he almost fell on his nose. He could gratefully do without that. He kept the color, however, because he had always liked green.
“If my father could see his inheritance now, he’d turn in his grave,” Talia grumbled, while Jason just felt comfortable in his new leather jacket.
He just glanced at her and grinned. That she grinned back said all there was to know. Should Ra’s be unhappy in hell. No one missed him here.
Jason winced slightly as Damian stepped out of the shadows. The boy had gotten too good at sneaking up on people, though Jason had forbidden any training until the boy was at least fourteen.
Jason had become Robin at fourteen. It was only fair that he was not a hypocrite.
Damian had sulked at first, but had quickly blossomed into his new pastimes. Reading, painting, and even dancing. But most of all, the boy spent his time with animals.
He finally seemed like a kid. At least when he wasn’t ambushing Jason.
“What do you want, gremlin?” Jason sighed.
Damian looked at him out of big blue eyes, “Kitty cat died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jason said honestly, while inwardly rolling his eyes at the fact that a cat had been named ‘kitty cat’. The boy was only eight. And who knew when he had gotten the animal?
“Can we resurrect her in the pit?”
Oh. That was quite bad. You couldn’t refuse that puppy look, but the Lazarus Pit always promised disaster. What to do? What to do?
“Damian,” Talia said angrily. She was his salvation wherever she had come from.
“Yes, mother?” the child asked innocently.
His mother was unimpressed. “I’ve already forbidden you to resurrect your deceased pet tiger in the pit.”
Jason could just barely suppress his outcry. He almost agreed to resurrect a tiger? A tiger named Kitty cat?!
His life had gone crazy.
“You’re not the Demon’s Head,” Damian snapped angrily.
Oh no!
Jason slowly resigned before becoming part of Talia’s lesson. She would surely be giving an hour-long lecture right now about how she would have become the next Demon’s Head if her father hadn’t been so damn traditional. Followed by how not all traditions were good and he should judge his mother and all women based on their accomplishments and not their gender.
Jason could save all that because he was just trying to establish all that in the League of Assassins.
He was making progress. Small ones, to be sure, but still. And if his words didn’t help, Jane Austen could help him.
“What page of the book are you on?” asked Bronze Tiger.
Onyx didn’t look up from her book, as if she hadn’t heard him. He still didn’t doubt for a second that she would kill anyone who stopped her from reading on.
Apparently, Onyx had just arrived at a very exciting part.
Nightwing sat in his cell and stared at the door in frustration. He wasn’t even chained, but the door could only be opened from the outside. He knew that because he had tried everything to escape.
At some point, you just had to give up.
He had only entered Ra’s palace because he needed information. Unfortunately, he had gotten caught. So, he had to suffer the consequences. If all went well, he would get through it unscathed because Ra’s was currently having a respectful phase towards Batman. With awful luck, they would execute him today.
The flap to pass the food opened, and a book was pushed through.
Nightwing caught it.
“Pride and Prejudice?” he read, confused. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“When you finish reading it, you’ll take a test. If you pass with at least a B, you’ll get an audience with the Demon’s Head,” the Assassin said dryly.
Nightwing’s jaw dropped: “Is this a bad joke?”
Funnily enough, he could see the Assassin cringe.
“His Lordship doesn’t joke when it comes to Jane Austen, believe me.”
None of this made sense, but his guardian at least seemed forthcoming, so why not take advantage of it?
“Since when did Ra’s al Ghul, misogynistic old man, become a Jane Austen fan?”
His counterpart was silent for a moment before saying dryly, “Ra’s al Ghul passed away a year ago. Long live our new Demon’s Head.”
“Who is it?” asked Nightwing subconsciously, while still inwardly recovering from the shock that Ra’s was really dead.
“Get at least a B on that test and you’ll find out.”
Nightwing defiantly pushed the book back. “In that case, I’d like the test. I already know the book.”
It was no lie. Jason had raved at length about the work. When Dick had read it years after his brother’s death, in his brother’s memory, the entire plot and every little analysis had gotten into his blood.
Nightwing wrote the test, which was surprisingly difficult. But he got an A plus, because Jason had lectured on almost every one of those questions.
“I’d like to talk to him now.”
Surprisingly, the door was opened immediately, and they led him through the corridors. He could escape now, but he needed to know who was on the throne.
“Nightwing, my lord,” he was introduced.
Nightwing entered and froze halfway to the throne.
The figure had swung his legs casually over the armrest and was looking down at Nightwing with a grin.
He knew that face.
It was his brother’s face.
“Nice to know you were listening to me, Big Bird.”
Nightwing disappeared completely, and Dick Grayson rushed to hug Jason Todd. Still, his head hadn’t processed that this was the new Demon’s Head. All that mattered was the heartbeat under his ear.
He didn’t even catch Jason sending the guards away.
“I missed you so much,” Dick sobbed.
Maybe Jason was crying, but since the Demon’s Head didn’t cry, that would always be anyone’s guess.
“I missed you, too, Dickie. Love you.”
Jason had thought Dick would stop him, but to his surprise, he didn’t.
“I understand,” he declared, and Jason didn’t know how to handle those words. Dick understood that Jason had put a bounty on the Joker’s head. No matter who ended up killing the clown, he would be installed as the right-hand man and would be entered as the successor to the new Demon’s Head. Jason hadn’t understood how popular that position was until he found almost no one left in Nanda Parbat.
“Tt. That these fools still try when Mother is unbeatable,” Damian grumbled, and Jason knew the boy was only too happy to put his skills to the test. Jason was glad that Damian would never live that life and he hoped that eventually Damian would see it the same way.
“As soon as he’s dead, I’ll allow you to leave for Gotham with Dick,” Jason promised. He tried to sound strong, his tenseness almost eating him up in the process. Ever since he had announced the bounty, he had been restless. It would be over soon. Soon, his killer would be dead. Soon he would have nothing to fear for.
“No,” Damian objected.
Jason raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No, I’m not going to leave you here alone. Without my experience, you’ll burn this place to the ground within hours.”
Jason rolled his eyes. After all, he was glad Damian wanted to stay by his side, but at the same time, he knew Damian would run into Bruce sooner or later, and Jason preferred it to be on his terms.
“The clown is dead,” a voice sounded from the shadows and Talia stepped forward, “I would have brought you his head. However, given the circumstances, I thought it more appropriate to drop that tradition.”
Jason nodded but couldn’t smile. It felt so surreal ... but not bad.
“If that’s the case, you’ve more than earned your place as the new Demon’s Head.”
Talia frowned. “I’m not going to kill you for that position.”
Jason smiled. “You don’t have to. I’m stepping back. That’s the last of Ra’s rules I’m changing. You can voluntarily resign from your post without having to die.”
Silence fell for a short time, and Talia sighed. “You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?”
“I never wanted this position, Talia. It has always been yours. Maybe I’ll regret it, but I doubt it. It’s time I found my own way. Far away from Bruce, and far away from you, too.” Jason turned to Damian and gave him a smile. “Now that your mother has control of Nanda Parbat, you can leave for your father without worry. I’ve already discussed it with Dick.”
Damian stuck out his chest proudly. “And if I would rather accompany you, brother?”
“Then I’ll have to disappoint you. You need experience in a real school and you need to learn to act with people your own age. I can’t offer you any of that.” Jason hesitated but knew he could only convince Damian with a promise, “I will visit you, though. When the time is right, when I’m ready for it, I’ll come back to Gotham.”
Jason looked at Talia and saw exactly how grateful she was. Under her father, she had had to raise Damian in this hell. Now it was time for Damian to live a less dangerous life, and if there was any danger to him after all, the League would take care of it.
“The last Demon’s Head ruled the League for centuries. You have not even half a decade,” Talia spoke and Jason shrugged.
“And yet my rules have made this place so much better in a brief time.”
The first thing Talia did was change the robe of the Demon’s Head. She would definitely not wear a leather jacket. That was really beneath her.