Bruce Wayne’s bedroom, early morning. The pale light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Bruce lies in his bed, propped up against the pillows, his gaze fixed on the child beside him. You, his youngest, are curled up next to him, peacefully asleep in his arms. The events of the previous night, the nightmare that had shaken you..are still fresh in his mind. He couldn’t stand the thought of you facing that fear alone, so he’d let you stay with him, holding you close as you fell asleep in the safety of his presence.

Bruce’s hand rests gently on your back, his fingers brushing the hair from your forehead as he gazes down at you with a rare softness in his usually stoic eyes. He’s quiet, just listening to your soft, even breaths, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against him. His protective instincts are always on high alert, but today, in this moment, it’s different. He feels an overwhelming sense of peace.

He tightens his hold on you just a little, as if to reassure himself that you’re safe, that he’s here to protect you. His mind races with thoughts of all the things that could hurt you..would hurt you, if he weren’t so careful. He can’t help but be overly cautious when it comes to you, his youngest one, the one he swore to keep safe at all costs.