Chapter Text
The Kingdom of Gotham is built like a fortress carved straight from obsidian cliffs. Ravens circle overhead as your caravan enters the main gates.
Your carriage stops.
You exhale softly and close your book. The royal family stands in formation atop the courtyard steps. You expect stoic elegance.
You do not expect the utter spectacle that unfolds when they see you.
First: Damian Wayne freezes.
Not politely. Not subtly.
Full system malfunction.
Jason actually stops walking. “Oh hell. That’s her?”
Tim squints. “Is Damian… buffering?”
Dick clutches his chest. “He’s been hit by Cupid’s ballista.”
Stephanie (you didn’t even know she was attending):
“That is not a princess, that is an EVENT.”
Even King Bruce pauses mid-step. “…Good lord.”
Queen Selina grins like a proud cat. “Told you Gotham wasn’t ready.”
Finally, Damian’s brain reboots. He snaps at his siblings without looking away from you—
“Silence. All of you.”
Dick stage-whispers, “He’s trying to be cool.”
Jason: “He’s failing.”
Tim: “Catastrophically.”
Damian inhales, gathers every ounce of princely training, steps forward—
—and nearly trips on the last step before catching himself at the last millisecond like a ninja.
He bows with rigid control.
“Princess. Welcome to Gotham. I… am honored to receive you.”
You curtsy gracefully. “The honor is mine, Prince Damian.”
His eyes widen just a fraction.
His brothers turn into a Greek chorus behind him:
Dick: “OH she’s polite, he’s DOOMED.”
Tim: “Damian’s going to propose in ten minutes.”
Jason: “Five.”
Damian growls, low and dangerous, “Leave. Immediately.”
---
The palace interior is magnificent—obsidian arches, star-painted ceilings, stained glass depicting Gotham’s history. You walk beside Damian, his arm offered with surprising gentleness.
He is trying so hard to be composed that you almost feel bad.
“You enjoy reading?" he asks, voice tight.
“Yes,” you say happily. “Do you?”
He glances at your book. “That one contains hidden military stratagems disguised as romantic plot beats.”
You blink.
“…Pardon?”
“Tt. The author uses a classic feint-and-flank maneuver in chapter twelve.”
You stare.
You laugh.
And Prince Damian Wayne turns red. Visibly.
Behind you, the Batfam erupts again:
Stephanie: “He BLUSHED!”
Dick: “Write it down, this is historic—”
Damian: “Get. Out.”
---
The feast begins.
And immediately, things go wrong.
Because Gotham’s nobles have never seen someone like you before.
Men choke on wine. Ladies whisper behind fans. Someone faints in the corner.
A young baron rushes up, sweating profusely.
“P-Princess! Might I—erm—escort you to—”
A silver goblet hits the table so hard it dents the wood.
Damian doesn’t even look at the baron.
“You will remove yourself.”
The baron squeaks like a terrified mouse and flees.
Dick: “Damiannnn, relax—”
Jason: “He can’t. Look at him. He's in alpha wolf mode.”
Tim: “Should we intervene?”
Bruce, sipping wine: “Let him manage it.”
Selina, smirking: “He’s courting.”
You lean toward Damian. “You don’t have to scare them…”
His jaw tightens.
“I am not scaring them.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You threw a goblet.”
“…Gently.”
You giggle.
He looks like he wants to rewrite the laws of nature just to hear that sound again.
---
Damian quietly motions for you to follow.
No words. Just a glance and a subtle tilt of his head.
You slip out with him through a corridor into a balcony overlooking the glowing Gotham gardens. Lanterns float magically above hedge rows, fireflies dancing like stars fallen to earth.
Damian folds his hands behind his back.
“I assumed you needed a moment away… from the staring.”
Your heart softens. “Thank you.”
He hesitates. “Beauty attracts attention. But it also attracts… opportunists.”
You smile. “Are you protecting me, Your Highness?”
His jaw clenches.
“I am… ensuring your comfort.”
Which is Damian-language for yes.
You lean slightly closer.
“So. You didn’t want this arrangement?”
He exhales slowly. Very controlled. Very honest.
“No. I did not wish to be… bartered. Or assigned a bride like a diplomatic asset.”
A beat.
“But now that I have met you…”
He looks at you fully, eyes bright in the moonlight.
“I find I am… unexpectedly willing.”
Your chest warms.
“I’m glad,” you whisper.
His breath catches.
“You are… distracting," he says quietly.
“Is that bad?”
He answers instantly, earnestly—
“No.”
---
Footsteps explode down the hallway.
Dick: “They’re totally kissing!”
Jason: “Move, move— I need to see—”
Tim: “For science!”
Damian whips around, murderous:
“If ANY of you step onto this balcony, I will personally bury you in the training grounds.”
Silence.
Retreating footsteps.
You cover your mouth to hide your laughter.
Damian’s shoulders relax slightly.
“…They are insufferable.”
“They seem to love you very much.”
He freezes.
“…I suppose.”
You smile softly. “I’d like to know them better.”
He turns back to you, surprise flickering. Then something softer.
“I would like that,” he says. “For them to know you. For you to… remain.”
Your heart stutters.
And then—carefully, deliberately—Damian extends his hand.
Not a command.
Not protocol.
A choice.
You place your hand in his.
Damian Wayne inhales sharply, as if steadying himself against a feeling that hits too deep.
He lifts your hand and presses a chaste, reverent kiss to your knuckles.
When he looks up, his expression is quiet, intense, sincere.
“I will court you properly,” he says softly.
“Not because duty demands it. Because I do.”
Your breath trembles.
“I would like that very much.”
Below, you hear Jason whisper to Dick through a window crack:
“He’s in LOVE.”
“I KNOW.”
“Should we tell Bruce?”
“No. Let him find out the dramatic way.”
Damian groans under his breath.
“…I regret everything.”
You laugh again.
And he definitely falls in love a little more.