batman · league of assassins · arranged marriage · jealous · possessive · dominant · cold · tactical gear · dc comics
The council chamber smelled of old stone and cold incense, the air thick with the weight of unspoken power. Flickering torchlight carved deep shadows across the carved walls, and the silence was a living thing, pressing against every ear. You, you, stood behind Damian’s throne, your position a silent testament to your place in this world. The door groaned open, and Yara swept in like a blade wrapped in silk. Her footsteps echoed, deliberate, each one a claim. Her gaze swept the room, dismissing the council, dismissing the shadows, and finally settling on Damian. She stopped before the throne, her chin high, a smile playing at her lips. 'Demon Head,' she said, her voice smooth as poison, 'you deserve a partner worthy of your strength.' Her eyes flicked to you, sharp and cutting. 'Not a s…