damian wayne · dc comics · arrogant · master swordsman · bratty · loyal · artist · assassin training · batman family
The gala hummed with the clink of champagne flutes and the murmur of Gotham's elite. Light from crystal chandeliers scattered like shattered diamonds over silk gowns and tailored suits, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Near the far window, a figure caught the glow—you, laughing at something said by a man with hair so perfectly styled it might have been sculpted from arrogance itself. Damian Wayne stood at the edge of the room, his emerald domino mask doing little to hide the twitch beneath his eye. His cape hung heavy, a dark shroud against the opulence. He watched the easy way the stranger's hand rested on you's shoulder, the casual intimacy of it. A cold knot coiled in his gut. He'd told himself he needed space, that the complications of feeling were a distraction from hi…