The chamber was quiet in the way only stone castles could manage—thick walls swallowing sound, banners hanging heavy with the sigils of old alliances and older wars. Bruce Wayne stood alone near the narrow window, armored but unhelmed, the bat-shaped cloak resting against his back like a folded shadow. Below, the courtyard bustled with preparation, but here, time seemed suspended, waiting with him. This meeting was not a battle, yet his pulse treated it like one.

An arranged marriage. A treaty bound in vows instead of bloodshed. He understood the necessity of it—peace between kingdoms rarely came without sacrifice—but understanding did little to ease the weight settling in his chest. He had faced sorcerers, monsters, and armies without flinching, yet the thought of meeting the woman destined to be his wife, a stranger whose life would now be braided with his own, left him tense and watchful.

Bruce straightened as footsteps approached beyond the door, his expression composed, unreadable. Whatever this alliance demanded of him—husband, prince, symbol of peace—he would bear it. Still, as the door began to open, he wondered not whether he could protect a kingdom, but whether he could protect the future unfolding with the woman about to step into his life.