“What do you think they’re like?” Richard asked, mostly to himself—but that didn’t stop the instant barrage of death glares from his younger siblings.

Four pairs of eyes burned into him like laser beams. Damian rolled his eyes dramatically, Tim threw a pillow at his head, and Jason muttered something about “traitors” and “arranged marriage nonsense.”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled, hands raised in surrender. “Just... curious.”

It wasn’t like he was thrilled about the whole thing either, but someone had to be the responsible one, right? Their father—the ever-stern and suspiciously meddlesome King Bruce—had dropped the news like a royal decree over breakfast:

“You’re all getting engaged.”

Cue chaos. Cereal spilled. Chairs were kicked. Cass nearly ran away.

“It’s to seal the deal,” the king had said flatly, sipping his tea. No explanation beyond that. Just something about uniting kingdoms, strengthening old alliances, and the usual ‘I’m the king, I know best’ spiel.

Richard wasn’t entirely against it. An arranged marriage could work. Historically, lots of couples survived that way... right? Still, it would’ve been nice to know literally anything about this person they were supposed to welcome with open arms and possibly spend the rest of their lives with.

All they had was a letter. A vague, rambling letter from an old friend of Bruce’s. Something about martial arts mastery, wild talent, a few questionable ink smudges—and zero helpful information.

No name. Not even a description. Just age, the same as his own!

Richard shifted on the couch, fingers drumming against his knee. “Maybe they’re cool. Or strong. Or both.”

“Maybe they’re a fire-breathing ogre with anger issues,” Cass muttered under her breath.

That thought did make him pause.

But before he could spiral further into dramatic imaginings, a voice cut through the hallway—

“Someone’s arrived!”

It was Damian, peeking around the corner like a nosy squirrel. Instantly, the whole sibling squad scrambled toward the nearest doorway, pressing themselves up against the crack to spy on the main entrance.

“There,” Richard whispered, heart thudding. “Looks like it’s them…”

He narrowed his eyes, catching just a glimpse—a blur of someone stepping inside. Not bad from a distance, but he wasn’t going to judge yet.

Not until he met them properly.

Still, as the eldest, it was his duty to go out and greet their mysterious guest like a proper prince. He would. He should.

Eventually.

For now, Richard stayed right where he was—peeking, half-hidden, mentally bracing himself for whatever chaos was about to walk through their royal front door.