A Quiet Week Beyond the World
Damian had faced gods, demons, assassins, and expectations that could crush most adults.
But for the first time in longer than he could remember, none of that mattered.
Here, inside his personal dimension, the world was silent.
No alerts.
No missions.
No shadows stretching toward him with demands.
Just Raven.
Day One — Stillness
Morning light filtered softly through the tall windows of the mansion, casting warm gold across marble floors and quiet hallways. The place felt alive, but not intrusive—like it existed purely to give peace.
Raven woke to the smell of food.
Not incense. Not sulfur.
Actual food.
She followed the scent down the corridor and found Damian in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, dark hair tied back loosely, moving with calm confidence between counters and stoves. He wasn't rushing. He wasn't tense.
He was… relaxed.
That alone felt unreal.
Breakfast was laid out neatly—perfectly cooked eggs, crisp vegetables, warm bread, and a dish she didn't recognize but somehow tasted exactly right. Balanced. Comforting.
"You cooked all this?" she asked, eyebrow lifting.
Damian glanced up, almost sheepish. "I enjoy it."
She studied him as she ate, watching the precision in his movements even now as he prepared tea. In her mind, Raven quietly acknowledged a truth she hadn't expected:
Having a boyfriend who can cook is… dangerous.
They spent the rest of the day doing very little.
No training.
No magic rituals.
No strategy.
They walked the gardens surrounding the mansion, sat by quiet water features, and talked—not about destiny or demons, but about books, music, and strange childhood memories neither of them usually shared.
That night, Damian cooked again.
Raven said nothing, but she finished every bite.
Day Two — Comfort
The mansion's theater room was massive—tiered seating, a screen that curved slightly at the edges, and sound so perfect it felt like the world dissolved.
Damian had prepared everything beforehand.
Popcorn.
Drinks chilled just right.
Blankets.
Raven stared at the setup. "You planned this."
"Yes," he said plainly.
They watched movies—old ones, new ones, things Raven pretended she wasn't interested in and then quietly quoted later. At some point, she leaned against him, legs tucked under her, head resting on his shoulder.
Damian didn't move.
He stayed perfectly still, like the moment might break if he breathed wrong.
Later, when the credits rolled and the room dimmed, Raven realized something else:
She felt… safe.
Not protected.
Not guarded.
Safe.
Day Three — Stars
That evening, Damian took her somewhere different.
Death Valley.
The transition was seamless—one moment stepping out of the mansion, the next standing beneath a sky so vast it stole her breath.
No city lights.
No noise.
Only stars.
Thousands of them.
Damian laid out a picnic blanket, careful and deliberate, as if this mattered more than any battle he'd ever planned. They sat side by side, gazing upward as the Milky Way stretched across the sky like a living thing.
"It's beautiful," Raven murmured.
Damian nodded. "I thought you'd like it."
They talked quietly—about nothing important and everything at once. The universe felt close here, like it was listening but choosing not to interfere.
After hours beneath the stars, fatigue finally settled in.
They returned to the dimension without a word.
That night, they slept in the same bed.
Raven curled against Damian's chest, fingers lightly gripping his shirt as if anchoring herself. He hesitated for half a second—then wrapped an arm around her, protective but gentle.
She fell asleep first.
Damian stayed awake longer, watching her breathe, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart.
For once, he didn't think about the future.
Eventually, he slept too.
Day Four — Healing
The hot springs were Raven's favorite.
Steam rose gently from the water, carrying a warmth that went deeper than muscle or bone. She could feel it—something ancient and soothing woven into the spring itself.
Damian watched her relax, shoulders loosening, expression softening in a way few people ever saw.
"This place," she said quietly, "it's different."
He nodded. "It heals more than the body."
She didn't question him.
They stayed there for hours, talking softly, sometimes not talking at all. Just existing together in silence that felt full instead of empty.
Raven realized something then.
This wasn't escape.
This was rest.
Days Five to Seven — Peace
The rest of the week passed gently.
Cooking together.
Reading in the library.
Quiet laughter echoing through halls that had never heard it before.
No alarms sounded.
No gods knocked at the door.
And for seven days, Damian Wayne wasn't an assassin, a weapon, or a legacy.
He was just a boy who loved someone—and was loved in return.
Somewhere beyond the walls of the dimension, plans were being made.
Projects advancing.
Demons stirring.
Machines failing and rebuilding themselves in darker places.
But for now?
The world could wait.
Damian had already chosen what mattered most.