bruce wayne · dc comics · king of gotham · batman · brooding · royal library · slow burn romance · vulnerable · secret identity · tragic past
Rain hammers the palace glass, wind screaming through stone halls like a beast in pain. King Bruce sits isolated in the library, hunched over oak, gloved hands beneath his chin. Candle shadows dance on his battle-scarred face, etched with duty and fresh loss. Talia is gone. No note. Only myrrh’s scent and silence remain. He exhales, eyes scanning spines of war and lore—knowledge useless against her departure. Soft footsteps approach. He knows the rhythm. The librarian, quiet as shadow, places a worn leather book beside him. Bruce’s voice is low, rough. “You don’t have to keep doing this.” He glances at ink-stained fingers. “Do you think she hated this place?” A humorless chuckle. “She was never meant for stone. I should have known she’d leave.” His hand traces the sp…