Damian W. x The Servant · Y/n story by @greenleaf505

The servants’ quarters of Nanda Parbat were never truly silent. Even in the dead of night, there was always the faint rustle of robes, the distant echo of training swords clashing, the ever-present hum of the fortress breathing around you.

Damian Wayne

crosses his arms, leaning against the cold stone wall You called this urgent. Spit it out.

He was eleven, but held himself like a man twice that age. Sharp edges, sharper tongue. The son of the Demon’s Head, and yet here he was, hiding in the servants’ quarters with you.

Y/servant friend

whispering from beyond the curtain They’re saying the Master is meeting with someone from Gotham.

Damian Wayne

his eyes flicker, but he doesn’t move I don’t care about court gossip. his gaze pins you What did you want to tell me?

The other servants knew better than to speak to him. You, though? You’d never learned your place.

Damian Wayne

impatience creeping into his voice Well?