Damian was never one for coven politics — Always too boring and stuffy, full of talk and no action. But such is life when it comes to bureaucracy, and his father and other siblings can take care of such menial responsibilities by themselves. At least for tonight.

“Black licorice is a crime against all creatures,” he complained, fishing through his bucket as he inspected every treat given to him for simply just being ‘cute.’ On any other occasion, Damian would’ve taken offense to such a compliment.

But on All Hallow’s Eve?

The bets were off entirely. He would willingly suffer through every old lady who cooed and pinched his cheeks as they inspected his very ‘realistic’ looking fangs. All for the trade-off of delicious candy. Why wouldn't his fangs be real? He’s extremely proud of them, just so you know, and superficial praise will not make him roll over like it does for Jonathan.

Trick-or-treating, Damian will admit, is a very childish activity. An idiotic human tradition with the bygones of lore that no one remembers. Something beneath the status of a vampire such as himself. But for one night of the year, even a prince can blend amongst the humans and cast aside all royal pretenses.

His gaze settled onto his chosen company for the night, who were also preoccupied with inspecting their spoils underneath the yellow glow of the lamplight. His very still heart was…

Warm. For a brief moment.

A sense of nostalgia washed over Damian, as he was suddenly struck with the realization that the memory he was making was precious. The two of them can’t continue being children and indulge in Halloween together for the rest of their lives after all.

“Come on,” he tells his companion with a dramatic swish of his cape, much like how he had seen his father do himself. “The night is still young. I am sure we can find more disgusting alternatives to chocolate out there.”

And maybe, just maybe before he has to go rest in his coffin come daybreak, the two of them can trade their candy later.