#(other anon who sent me a book rec ask—i will answer soon i promise!)

[hedgehog-moss]

do you have recommendations for introspective fiction? :) i've been craving for something for my brain to much on that will also cause me pain, but i honestly have no clue where to get that. any advice?

Hello! I had trouble finding ideas at first because all the introspective & thought-provoking books that came to mind were nonfiction (diaries, etc—especially when it comes to women writers) but here are 10 suggestions, with excerpts :) Note that I took your "cause me pain" request seriously; these are not exactly feel-good reads.

Steppenwolf, Herman Hesse Man is not capable of thought in any high degree, and even the most spiritual and highly cultivated of men habitually sees the world and himself through the lenses of delusive formulas and artless simplifications—and most of all himself. For it appears to be an inborn ... need of all men to regard the self as a unit. In reality, however, every ego ... is in the highest degree a manifold world, a constellated heaven, a chaos of forms, of states and stages, of inheritances and potentialities. It appears to be a necessity as imperative as ... breathing for everyone to be forced to regard this chaos as a unity and to speak of his ego as though it were a one-fold and clearly detached and fixed phenomenon. Even the best of us shares the delusion.

Notes From Underground, Fyodor Dostoevsky Why, suffering is the sole origin of consciousness. Though I did lay it down at the beginning that consciousness is the greatest misfortune for man, yet I know man prizes it and would not give it up for any satisfaction. Consciousness, for instance, is infinitely superior to twice two makes four. Once you have mathematical certainty there is nothing left to do or to understand. There will be nothing left but to bottle up your five senses and plunge into contemplation.

The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa I asked for very little from life, and even this little was denied me. A nearby field, a ray of sunlight, a little bit of calm along with a bit of bread, not to feel oppressed by the knowledge that I exist, not to demand anything from others, and not to have others demand anything from me — this was denied me, like the spare change we might deny a beggar not because we're mean-hearted but because we don't feel like unbuttoning our coat.

Ishmael, Daniel Quinn All sorts of creatures on this planet appear to be on the verge of attaining self-awareness and intelligence. We were never meant to be the only players on that stage. [But] man is the first of all these. He is the trailblazer, the pathfinder. [….] Man’s place in the world is to be the first without being the last. Man’s place is to figure out how it’s possible to do that—and then to make room for all the rest who are capable of becoming what he’s become.

The Lady and the Little Fox Fur, Violette Leduc Her hope was stored in a safe place. On tiptoe, avidly, she gazed through the windows. ... She was filled with a fixed determination to pay the next month’s rent, to sally forth once more to the pawnbroker’s, to offer him the clothes off her back, to sell her teeth, ... but at all costs to go on living against the panes of strangers’ windows. She bumped into women hurriedly buying food for their dinners; she was breathing the oxygen meant for people who had spent their day working. To cry out that it was impossible for her to begin her life all over again would be useless.

The Last Summer of Reason, Tahar Djaout The city with the many forms of iridescence that once danced on the foam ... is now a field of merciless thorns. Love is a recumbent effigy, a dead tree. Song flees into exile. ... Books—the closeness of them, their contact, their smell, and their contents—constitute the safest refuge against this world of horror. They are the most pleasant and the most subtle means of traveling to a more compassionate planet.

The Royal Game, Stefan Zweig They did nothing—other than subjecting us to complete nothingness. For, as is well known, nothing on earth puts more pressure on the human mind than nothing. ... There was nothing here that could release me from my thoughts, from my obsession with them, from my pathological reiteration of them. And that was exactly what they intended: I was to choke and choke on my thoughts until they asphyxiated me.

Dawn, Elie Wiesel [Words] serve only to give meaning to our actions. And our actions, seen in their true and primitive light, have the odor and color of blood. This is war, we say; we must kill. ... And what else can we do? War has a code, and if you deny this you deny its whole purpose and hand the enemy victory on a silver platter. That we can’t afford. We need victory, victory in war, in order to survive, in order to remain afloat on the surface of time.

Darkness at Noon, Arthur Koestler All our principles were right, but our results were wrong. This is a diseased century. We diagnosed the disease and its causes with microscopic exactness, but wherever we applied the healing knife a new sore appeared. Our will was hard and pure, we should have been loved by the people. But they hate us. Why are we so odious and detested? ... Whenever had a good cause been worse represented? When and where in history had there ever been such defective saints?

All the Lovers in the Night, Mieko Kawakami The job that I was doing, the place where I was living, the fact that I was all alone and had no one to talk to. Could these have been the result of some decision that I’d made? I heard a crow crying somewhere in the distance and turned to the window. It occurred to me that maybe I was where I was today because I hadn’t chosen anything. I had faked it the whole way. ... I was so scared of failing, of being hurt, that I chose nothing. I did nothing.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

More Than You Know - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul Summary: True love didn’t always mean romance. Maybe if that had occurred to them sooner, Damian wouldn’t have been asleep for a year. A/N: A medieval-ish/sleeping beauty-ish AU, (but not at all related to the budding jaydick medieval au I sort of have). All the kids but Dick as still Bruce’s (and Talia’s) kids. Dick was just an orphan who rose in the ranks of the army and is a knight, obvi. Cass is also in the army, one of the few ladies of course, and is away for the whole fic. Tim might still be adopted, I didn’t decide. The ‘plant witch’ is Poison Ivy, of course. Just because it’s sometimes hard to decipher, especially in the true love trope stories, this fic is purely platonic/familiar. No romance beyond Bruce and Talia, for anybody. Inspired by ‘Light’ by Sleeping At Last. Thanks again to the anon who recced the song! I can’t stop listening to it. It’s so Dick and Damian, like waaaaaah. :3

~~

It was the witch, the King said, as the Queen led the way up the tower stairs. The plant witch.

“She was angry at Talia and I,” Bruce explained worriedly. “We were going to cut down some of her forest to expand the kingdom.”

“Damian was the first she came across.” Talia tossed over her shoulder. “He was walking his dog as he does every sunrise, but Timothy hadn’t gone with him that particular day. Nursing that illness that had gone around the village. Damian never stood a chance.”

Dick’s heart was pounding, as it had been since he’d gotten the letter. “And what have the doctors said?”

“They’ve said there’s nothing they can do.” Bruce answered. “It’s a curse, and no medicine they’d be able to concoct will do any good.”

“The doctors are useless.” Talia spat. “The witch told us how to fix it.”

“But he is a boy,” Bruce hissed back, even as they reached the landing, and Talia tugged at the door. “He does not have a true love.”

“Then we must find them.” Talia countered. “Whomever he was supposed to find, had he not been put in this state. Because if we do not, then we will never see our son again. Do you want that?”

“Please.” Dick interrupted, staring pleadingly at Talia. “I want to see him.”

Thankfully, the king and queen stopped their bickering, and Talia set back to yanking the door open.

Sunlight spilled onto the landing immediately, followed by the smell of fresh flowers. This wasn’t Damian’s bedroom, Dick knew, but they dressed it up as well as they could to make it look like it. Bookshelves and his paints. Even his collection of weapons sat polished and ready in the corner.

And on the far side of the room, like he was on display at a wake, laid Damian. Fast asleep on the bed, hands folded across his blanketed stomach, and dog lying protectively next to his bed, like he was just down for an afternoon nap.

Dick knew that was not the case.

“We thought the sunlight might help. Keep him warm.” Bruce whispered, even as Dick stepped forward. “The flowers to mask the smell of death.”

“And he is not.” Talia reassured. “He is not dead, but. With no movement, it got…musky up here. And my son deserves a better scent than that for when he wakes.”

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat as he continued forward. As he walked around the resting dog and knelt beside the bed.

Damian’s cheeks were rosy and bright, and his chest rose and fell with breaths.

But with the curse, none of that mattered.

“…We hoped.” Talia started softly, and Dick heard Bruce move closer to comfort her. “You and Damian were so close as he grew, you cared for him so deeply, we hoped you coming here would make a difference.”

Dick didn’t respond, instead slowly reaching out to curl his hand around Damian’s and give a gentle squeeze. Nothing.

“…How long?” He rasped instead.

“Pardon?” Bruce asked.

“How long since the witch cursed him?”

There was no answer, and when Dick glanced up, he saw the king and queen glancing nervously at each other.

“It takes a week for a letter to get from the kingdom to the coast, and it took me a week to get back.” Dick snapped sharply, standing. “That means he has been like this for at least two weeks. But I know you two. You did not call for me as soon as it happened. You never do.”

Bruce and Talia didn’t answer.

“So. How long?” He asked. And when he still got nothing, he stomped his foot, and pointed accusingly down at the bed. “How long have you let my little brother be like this?!”

Talia’s face was stone when she looked back at him. “Knight, my son is not your brother. You were his tutor and his companion. Remember your place.”

“Eight months.” Bruce whispered instead. “Perhaps closer to nine.” Bruce looked sadly into Dick’s eyes. “Three seasons.”

“Three…” Dick gasped. “You’re telling me he was cursed not long after I left?!”

“We did not know the severity.” Bruce tried to soothe. “We did not want to call you back from your station only for it to be nothing.”

“But three seasons?! One month, I will give you. Not nine.” Dick scolded. He looked away from them, first down at the dog, then back to Damian, and sighed. “But…I will do what I can for him. If you two wish to go look for his true love, I will stay and protect him.” A pause, to reach down and hold Damian’s cheek. “I’ll stay as long as he needs me.”

He could tell Talia and Bruce were silently conversing about it, but paid them no mind. Just stared down at the boy he helped raise. The lonely little prince who couldn’t seem to find a friend outside of the stables, not even in his siblings. The one he found in the armory at four years old, attempting to steal armour and weapons. So he could run away and join his father’s army, he said. Find his sister among the ranks, and help her protect their kingdom, he said.

(Because maybe his sister would love him like his family in the castle did not, he whispered through tears.)

He remembered being officially designated Damian’s caretaker after that, when he returned the boy to his parents. He remembered teaching him how to ride a horse, how to hold a sword. He remembered playing tag in the courtyard, and hide and seek. He remembered the time Damian gave him a flower for his birthday, and he wore it tucked behind his ear the rest of the day with pride.

He remembered tucking the boy into bed, telling him stories until he fell asleep. He remembered being summoned in the middle of the night, by Damian’s siblings and the king alike, to soothe a lingering nightmare, and wipe tiny tears away.

He remembered the day his battalion was sent off to the coast, to be stationed there for a year and perhaps longer. He remembered Damian, grown boy of eleven now, in his royal colors, the crown still a little too big for his head, hugging him tightly, face hidden against his armour. He remembered Damian demanding he come home safe, that it was an order from his future king, and Dick joking that he’d see him soon, and promising he’d send letters.

It made sense now, why his letters were never answered.

He remembered looking back only once, as his soldiers moved down the path, and seeing Damian standing on the hill, alone. Watching.

“We’ll have the servants prepare you a room.” Bruce suddenly said. “And we’ll collect your things there.”

“No.” Dick shook his head. “No, have them brought up here, if you don’t mind.”

Talia inhaled, “Dear knight…”

“I can sleep on the floor if need be.” Dick hummed. “I just told you – I’ll stay with him as long as he needs me.”

He heard the queen inhale again to argue, but Bruce cut her off. “Come, darling. Let’s go call the maids.”

Bruce turned out of the room, and Talia went to follow, but stopped at the door, and turned back, just for a moment.

“…Your letters are on his bookshelf.” She whispered. “We read them to him every time a new one arrives, in hopes it will help.”

Dick didn’t look up. Just slowly sunk down onto the edge of the bed, as Talia turned and followed after her husband.

~~

It was weeks. Months. Dick lost track of the time, really.

He rarely left the tower. Opted to stay with Damian, even when he was offered a reprieve. Because when he left that room, it felt wrong. The world felt wrong, without Damian in it with him.

He talked to the child, always with the hope that one of these times, the boy would speak back. A naive hope, because there was no true love yet. Nothing had changed. But still, he hoped nonetheless.

He watched the courtyard from the window as he read books or fiddled with the flowers. Felt like those princesses from the fairy tales he used to tell Damian. Stuck in a tower all alone, waiting for a hero to come rescue him.

He was waiting for a hero, though. A hero to save his little brother, and in turn, save him too.

Damian’s siblings came up to visit occasionally. Would sit and talk to Damian, like Dick did, and then talk to him too. Sometimes they brought him food, sometimes they brought new books. Sometimes they even brought apologies. To Dick, for taking him from his station. To Damian, for not being there when he was cursed. For not loving him the way he deserved when they had the chance.

The king and queen returned with a few they thought might break the curse, and Dick would watch from his perch on the windowsill, holding back Damian’s dog as they tried. But of course, it never worked. Damian never stirred.

They celebrated his birthday while he slept. Twelve years old. The celebration wasn’t large. Pastries made by the kitchen, which Dick and Damian’s brothers ate. The king and queen stayed in the tower with them that day. All day. Dick shared memories of their son, the ones they were too busy ruling a kingdom to create with him themselves.

At dusk, Dick decided to leave the tower. To take Damian’s dog Titus for a walk. But one look into the dog’s eyes, and he knew they couldn’t go alone.

So, he carefully picked up Damian’s body, leaned him gently against his back, curled his arms under his legs, and their group went off.

They ran into Timothy halfway to the castle gates, but he didn’t stop them. Instead, he joined them. Walked alongside, gathered Titus when he got too far, told Dick about his and Damian’s morning walks. How they came to be, how it brought them closer. How he wasn’t on that fateful walk that day.

Dick hoped they’d run into the witch. Just so he could tear her limb from limb. They didn’t.

They stood on the ridge, the one Dick saw Damian at when he’d left for the coast. Watched the night swallow the evening.

“This is all yours, Damian.” Dick whispered sadly, up to the stars. Timothy glanced up at him, then up to the sky himself. Damian remained motionless against his shoulder. “This is all waiting for you to come back to us.”

After that, the winter set in, and even the thick blankets the royal family let him use weren’t enough. So he moved his small mattress closer to Damian’s. Huddled with Titus for added heat.

And it was a comfort, Damian’s peacefully sleeping form being the last thing he saw before he went to sleep each night. Damian being the first thing he saw every morning.

Until it wasn’t.

Until it made him almost mad, in all senses, to wake up and know his friend was no closer to being better. No matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried, no matter how much they loved him.

The curse could not be broken.

Dick reached his breaking point mid-winter. When he was cleaning the tower room. Dust had settled across everything, easels and books and windowsills alike, the flowers were dying, Damian’s weapons were no longer polished – and that just wouldn’t do. Not for his little brother.

So he borrowed cleaning supplies from the servants. Waved them away when they tried to do it themselves. Promised to call for help if he needed it.

He had just finished the bookshelf, and was turning away to head to the next area when his hip nicked the corner of the shelf, rattling it just a little. Some of the books moved, flopping this way or that, and in his periphery, Dick saw a piece of paper flutter out from between two books, and onto the floor.

Without thinking, he leaned down and picked it up, scanning it automatically. The realization hit him instantly – it was a letter.

To him.

A letter from Damian to him, from way back when he first went to the coast a year ago. It was in response to Dick’s first card, Dick could tell by what little Damian had already written.

But the letter was unfinished. Hell, Damian stopped midsentence. Richard, you will never guess

Then nothing.

And it broke Dick’s heart.

It broke it into a million pieces, and those pieces manifested themselves into tears. The first tears Dick shed since returning to the kingdom.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. He was just a boy. He didn’t ask for any of this. Didn’t deserve any of it. He just wanted to be loved. He just wanted to have friends. He didn’t want to be a prince. He didn’t want to be royalty. He certainly didn’t want to be used as leverage against his parents. To be attacked while doing a mundane task such as walking his dog.

He just wanted to be happy.

Dick’s hands began to shake, and his grip on the letter tightened, crinkling the edges. He glanced over towards the bed, and was moving towards it before he realized it.

“Come back.” He demanded, collapsing onto the side of the mattress, his favorite perch since this whole mess started. “Damian, please come back.”

Damian’s chest rose, and fell.

“We love you. We all love you. Your mother and your father. Your siblings, your pets. Your subjects. Me. I love you. You’re the little brother I never had.” A tear dripped down onto Damian’s cheek. “And I miss you. I missed you every day on the coast, and I’ve missed you every day since I’ve returned.”

Titus whined nearby, as Dick dropped the unfinished letter, and gently took hold of Damian’s face.

“And I promise. I swear on my life, and on the life of my king. If you return, I will do everything in my power to stay with you, always. To protect you, and keep you safe and to stop this from ever happening to you again.” Dick rambled, gently stroking Damian’s cheeks. Suddenly he looked up, out the window and towards the clouds. “Please, give him back. Please give me a second chance to love him, and protect him. I will do better this time. You can strike me down if I don’t. Even better – you can take me right now, in exchange for him.”

The clouds didn’t respond. Just rolled away.

Dick sighed, closed his eyes. Bowed his head, and opened them again to look at Damian.

“I wish you could hear me.” Dick whispered. Slowly he leaned down, and pressed his lips to Damian’s forehead. Lingered there for only a moment, for only as long as he could bear, before sitting back up and standing – suddenly needing to get away. Get out of this room. He turned towards the door, and began towards it as he wiped his eyes, murmuring: “Sleep well, my prince.”

And he was at the door, he was just about to depart the landing, and start down the stairs, when he heard a simple, quiet:

“…Richard?”

He spun around so fast he made himself dizzy. But he didn’t care, he did not care – because there was a pair of sleepy, jade eyes turned towards him.

…What?

“…Damian?” He breathed.

Damian frowned, blinking tiredly. “What are you doing back from the coast so soon? We were attacked?”

“So soon…” Dick repeated, stepping awkwardly back into the room. And of course – Damian had been cursed not long after he left for his station.

Damian twisted to look out the window, then back to the room. “Where am I? This is not my room.”

And Dick’s tears…were falling faster now.

“What is wrong with you?” Damian asked in a raspy voice. “Why are you crying?”

Damian tried to move, then. Tried to lift himself up on his arms. But the body that hadn’t moved in a year betrayed him, and with a painful grimace, his wobbly muscles collapsed underneath him.

“What?” Damian looked around again, annoyed more than concerned. “What is-?”

“You’re awake.” Dick muttered, and Damian looked up at him. “Oh my god, you’re awake.”

“Of course I’m awake, why wouldn’t I-” Damian stopped there, face scrunching in confusion. “Wait, wasn’t I in the forest with Titus? We were talking a walk…”

“You’re awake.” Dick repeated, and Damian could only watch as Dick suddenly ran to the window, pushed the pane open, and leaned dangerously out of it, shouting, “He’s awake! He’s awake, and alive! Prince Damian has woken!”

Damian heard a commotion in the courtyard, and demands that someone find the king or queen or other princes.

“Richard, what-” But then Dick looked back at him, and tears were streaming down his face in rivers, joy and sorrow both etched in his features. Suddenly Dick was lunging at him, lifting him from the bed and spinning him around. Holding him close, squeezing him tightly, as the rotations slowed to a stop. Damian felt Dick’s shoulders shaking as he clung to them for support and felt his own face soften in concern as they stilled, as he leaned back just enough to look at his friend. “Richard, why are you crying?”

“A year.” Dick sobbed, as they stood in the center of the room. “My prince, you’ve been asleep for a year.”

Damian blinked. “From what?!”

“A curse. You were cursed on that walk with your dog.” Dick explained. Already, he could hear the steps of at least two people climbing the tower steps. “Your father wrote to me after three seasons, and I’ve been here with you ever since.”

“A curse?” Damian repeated. “Well…what broke it?”

“I do not know.” Dick shook his head with a nervous laugh, even as he tugged Damian back into a hug. “I do not know what broke it. It was a curse broken by true love’s kiss they said, but we were unable to find your true love-”

“I love no one.” Damian hummed harshly against his throat. “Well, perhaps my pets, but I have a feeling they do not count.”

“Well, I love you.” Dick returned happily, and was surprised when Damian leaned back again, looking up at him quizzically. “What? Have I never told you?”

The blush was already rising up Damian’s cheeks. “…Not that I recall.”

“Well I do. You’re like the little brother I never had. The family I never had.” Dick smiled. Suddenly he pressed another kiss to Damian’s temple, before pressing their foreheads together. “And I promise. From now on I will do better in making sure you know that. Every day.”

Damian’s eyes darted between his curiously.

“…You are perhaps the father I never had, as well.” Damian whispered, lashes lowering in embarrassment, and maybe guilt. “And I. Well, I guess it’s not true that I love no one. Because I love you too, Richard. For your kindness, and your care for me. Your friendship.”

“…And maybe that’s all it was.” Both jumped at the new voice, looking towards the door. Bruce stood there, Jason leaning around his shoulder to stare with wide, excited eyes. “Maybe that’s an angle we should have explored further.”

“My lord?” Dick asked, even as Bruce came forward.

“Father!” Damian exclaimed, reaching out. Bruce smiled as he approached them, grasping Damian’s fingers in his, even as he wrapped his free hand around Damian’s head, pressed his own lingering kiss to his hair.

“We assumed true love meant romantic. His future spouse.” Bruce explained to Dick. “Perhaps we should have been looking at other meanings. Familiar. Platonic.”

“But,” Dick narrowed his eyes in confusion, watching as Damian released his hand from Bruce’s, only to gently hold his father’s face. No doubt it had changed drastically since Damian last saw it. “I saw you and the queen kiss him. Multiple times. His condition never changed.”

Bruce chuckled, and suddenly – he sounded old. “He is our child, and we love him more than the sun and the moon combined. But even we know we will never compare to you, Richard. Neither how strongly you love him, nor how strongly he loves you in return.” Gently, Bruce leaned into Damian’s hand, closing his eyes. “You are his true love, knight. You broke the curse, and you saved my son.”

There were voices downstairs, and Jason turned to inspect them.

“Mother has the doctors.” Jason glanced back at them. “Shall I fetch them?”

“No. I think it’s time for Damian to finally leave this room, don’t you?” Bruce kept his grin even as he glanced at Dick. “Would you mind continuing to hold him? A year asleep might’ve left his legs a little weak, and we don’t want to rush his recovery.”

Bruce turned back towards the door, but: “Father, wait.”

Bruce looked over his shoulder.

“I…I lied. I did not mean it.” Damian stuttered. “I do not love no one. And I do not love just Richard. I love you as well. And Mother. And my siblings. I…I just said it to-”

Jason suddenly scoffed. “As if we didn’t already know that, tiny one.”

“You’ve always had such a large heart, son. It’s difficult to navigate at times, and unfortunately your mother and I have not helped you to do so.” Bruce promised. “You and I will talk about it when you’re better. If you’d like.” He glanced at Dick. “Come along.”

Dick followed slowly after, even as Bruce and Jason practically ran down the stairs. It made sense, of course. The doctors were rude men, who hated to be kept waiting. Not to mention Bruce wanted to give them a preliminary assessment before they got started. Dick had plenty of time.

Damian had already curled back into Dick’s embrace, face hidden against his neck, hands clutching the front of his tunic. His breathing was even, and for a moment, Dick thought maybe he’d fallen back to sleep.

“…Richard?”

Apparently not.

“Hm?”

“I dreamed about you.” Damian whispered. “The whole time.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Damian hummed. “And you told me. You told me in the dream that I had been cursed. That I was in trouble, and you were there to protect me. I didn’t believe you. Or perhaps I didn’t care. Because it was just you and I, and we were happy. Sparring, shooting arrows, reading. I was aware none of it made sense, because there was no one else in the whole kingdom, but I ignored it, because we were having all of the adventures you told me we would have when I was a child.”

“My prince, you still are a child.” Dick reminded gently. “Much to your dismay, I know. Also, you turned twelve in your sleep.”

“There was one thing that was odd, though.” Damian ignored Dick’s comment. “Sometimes, in the dream, you would be speaking. And suddenly, midsentence, you would start saying something else. It was after the third instance of this happening that I realized you kept interrupting yourself with the same words. And sometimes you sounded like Mother, or Father.”

“The letters.” Dick wondered aloud, and Damian waited for an explanation. “Sometimes we would read you the letters I sent you from the coast, in hopes it would wake you.”

“Oh.” Damian murmured. “Well. I heard you.”

And Dick thought his heart might burst at that fact. He heard them. Damian heard them in that deadly sleep. Damian heard him.

“…Did Roy actually get stuck in a tree with his trousers down?”

Dick barked a laugh. It must have been loud, as the chatter at the bottom of the stairs suddenly stopped. “Indeed. They got caught on a branch as he climbed, and when he stumbled they were pulled down to his ankles and got trapped in his boots. He was stuck upside down for a good ten minutes, and was too embarrassed to call for help. Poor Donna was the one who came across him.”

Damian snorted a laugh. “Absurd.”

“Mhm.” Dick agreed, continuing down the steps. They were close to the end, now. Just another two turns.

“Richard?”

“Yes, Damian?”

“…Thank you for breaking the curse.” Damian mumbled. “Thank you for loving me more than anyone else.”

Dick hesitated for only a moment, then smiled, lifting a hand to hold the back of Damian’s head.

“It always has been, and will forever be my pleasure to do so, my prince.” He stopped on the last step, uncaring of the small audience he now had as he placed yet another kiss to Damian’s temple. “Thank you for loving me in return.”

And it was soft, under the voices of Talia and Timothy coming to see their boy, but Dick heard it loud and clear.

“Always.”