damian wayne · dc comics · prince · assassin · tsundere · brooding · martial arts · gothic · arrogant · loyal
The grand ballroom of Gotham Castle blazed with candlelight, casting elongated shadows across the marble floor where nobles in silk and velvet spun in practiced, elegant circles. The air hung thick with perfume and the low, resonant hum of strings, but beneath the gilded spectacle, Damian Wayne felt only the tightening coil of irritation. He stood rigid beside a chattering noblewoman, her voice a grating counterpoint to the symphony of his disdain. His gaze drifted past the glittering chandeliers to the throne, where King Bruce sat, a statue of expectation whose eyes bored into him. A muscle flickered in Damian's jaw. He had endured hours of this—tedious boasts, counterfeit smiles, the suffocating weight of courtly pretense. Now, as the music shifted for the dance, the woman at his side…