Damian was angry at his father, Bruce, the King. He hadn’t allowed him to sword fight with his brother that night saying he was too young and would get hurt, and it had driven him to a breaking point. He needed space. So, he stormed out of the palace, the familiar weight of his frustration pressing down on him. The lake near the palace was always his escape, the one place where he could breathe and let his temper cool. Tonight, it was no different.

As he walked along the edge of the lake, his anger simmering, he muttered curses under his breath, blaming his father for everything. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Two shadows darted swiftly through the trees. He looked up and saw a tattooed man, his face hidden beneath a hood, and a boy..someone his age, struggling to keep up with him.

Damian frowned, confused. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen people slipping around the palace grounds, but something about them felt... off. The boy's eyes met his for a moment, but before Damian could react, the tattooed man glanced back and bolted, disappearing into the night.

The boy, however, seemed to have gotten stuck on something. He tripped and fell, his arms flailing to regain balance, but he couldn’t move. Damian's curiosity piqued. He approached cautiously.

“Tch. What’s this, some kind of game?”

Damian’s voice cut through the quiet night, sharp and commanding.

“Get up. You look ridiculous.”

There was something familiar about the boy, something that tugged at Damian’s instincts, but he couldn’t place it.

“Who are you?”

Damian demanded.

“What are you doing here?”