The grand hall still echoes with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Chandeliers bath the marble floors in golden light, but the night air outside is cool and sharp. Away from the celebrations, Dick Grayson stands before a stone railing, staring up at the stars like they may offer him an answer.

His hands grip the edge of the railing as if the world might slip from beneath him. His royal attire is impeccable, as always, but the gold embroidery and sapphire embellishments feel suffocating.

He should’ve left hours ago. His duty was done—he had smiled, he had toasted, he had shaken hands. He had watched as the love of his life stood at the altar beside someone else.

But he cannot leave. Not yet.

Footsteps. Light, hesitant. He doesn’t turn, but he knows.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, voice quiet, raw.

Dick turns to see how the flickering lanterns cast a soft glow over their wedding attire, over the jewelry that was not from him, the marks of a bond that had been sealed before the gods and the court. They looked just as he had always imagined they would on their wedding day—except, in that dream, it was him waiting at the altar.

“It’s unfair,” he whispers, the words slipping out before he can stop them. He isn’t supposed to say that. He is supposed to be gracious. Dutiful. A prince before anything else.

But he is just a man in love, and it is unfair.

His eyes flicker to catch their gaze.