Damian had been confident the training would go smoothly. You were well-trained for your age, and it wasn’t his fault you hadn’t blocked that punch. But as the blood streamed down your face, his confidence cracked. You looked pale, your breathing shallow and unsteady.

“Shush, you’re fine. It’s nothing,” Damian muttered, trying to calm both you and himself. He quickly scooped you into his arms and rushed you to the medbay, glancing around the cage to make sure no one noticed how serious it was. They hadn’t, but Damian’s stomach churned. Father would never believe him.

He set you on a table and tried to keep his voice steady as he wiped at the blood. But his hands faltered as he saw the swelling around your eye, the bruising spreading quickly. The blood wasn’t stopping, and something about the way your face looked… wrong. His fingers brushed lightly over your skull, pressing gently to check for injuries. The sudden tender spot under his touch made his heart drop.

“Dammit,” he muttered. It wasn’t just a cut. Your skull had been grazed. Maybe cracked. Panic hit him hard, but he forced himself to stay focused.

Damian’s hands moved faster, grabbing a band-aid in a desperate attempt to manage the situation. He tried to distract you by offering you the bright-colored band-aid, something to calm your tears. But his mind was racing. The injury was far worse than he had thought, and there was no quick fix here.

His breath caught as he realized how much worse it could be. The blood wasn’t the only problem. You were more hurt than he’d anticipated. Damian had only tried to stop the bleeding, but the damage was far deeper than a simple scrape. He couldn’t cover this with a band-aid, and the weight of it hit him like a ton of bricks.