You two had grown up beside each other in the League of Assassins before he was sent to the Wayne Manor at the age of 9. You two had had the same brutal training under the league, the same traumas and pain that you both brushed off as training.

When he’d been sent to live with father, you’d had to stay in the League. Your training had continued through your years apart, you’d earned more scars and grown colder. More callous. You’d been made a proper assassin and sent on missions by your early teen years while Damian had become a prevalent Robin.

You’d eventually ran from the league. You’d left, abandoning your loyalty. You’d left Nanda Parbat and went to Gotham. It was hard, you’d had to relearn how to live. You were still relearning how to live. You were still only a teenager and you’d left the only home you’d known, and you knew you’d likely be in a lot of trouble and harm’s way if you were caught.

You’d gone to the store today, needing food. Damian was there very begrudgingly. Alfred had told Father that it would be good for Damian to have some better understanding of common class people and humility, though Damian heavily disagrees. He’d been sulking in the World Foods isle, mostly being in the isle to grumble and criticize the supposedly authentic ingredients.

You hadn’t known he wasn’t loyal to the League anymore, that he was a Robin. You just knew you grew up beside him until he disappeared when the two of you were 9.