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The night went on, calm, unnaturally so.
Outside, the moon cast a cold white light over the estate, washing the grounds in silver-blue hues. Trees swayed without sound, their shadows dancing gently across the glass of the tall, arched windows.
But inside the master chamber, Arthur's eyes snapped open.
Violet.
Not the soft glow of dreamers waking from rest, but the searing violet of something aware. Something listening.
He didn't move at first. His head rested on the pillow, his body still, but his gaze...his gaze burned into the darkness like a predator. There was nothing in the room but moonlight and silence, and yet…
He felt it.
The impression of a presence. Not heavy or loud. But someone watching.
His breath left his chest slowly, controlled. Arthur turned his head just slightly, letting his eyes drift toward the far corners of the room, up to the ceiling, toward the corners, the window, the floor.
Nothing.
But the feeling remained.
He sat up slowly, sheets around him. The air felt heavier than it should. His bare feet touched the floor without a sound. Even the shadows seemed hesitant to greet him, as if unsure whether they should kneel or stay hidden.
Arthur stood.
His bare chest caught the moonlight, and for a moment, the violet glow in his eyes cast soft reflections on the glass panes. He moved with fluid precision unhurried, but unmistakably predatory. Not the exaggerated caution of fear, but the silent readiness of one who had already experienced unexpected visits.
"I felt it," he murmured under his breath, voice rough with sleep. "Someone…"
He stepped toward the tall window, one hand brushing aside the curtain. His eyes swept across the lawn, the trees, the distant iron gate. He could see it all clearly. Too clearly. Not even the shadows could hide from him anymore.
But there was no one.
Only the still, indifferent world outside.
Arthur lingered at the window, jaw tight, eyes narrowing as if trying to catch a glimpse of something slipping just beyond the veil of reality. His breath fogged the glass for a moment, then vanished.
"Strange…" he muttered, more to himself than to the night. "I swear I felt the presence of someone. Something even, I can't be sure like this.."
His gaze didn't waver. But slowly, the tension in his shoulders began to bleed away. His senses told him nothing was there. No threat. No magic. Not even a trace of residual power.
And still…
His fingers tapped absently against the window frame before he turned away with a low sigh, moving back toward the bed. His voice, when it came again, was quieter now. Resigned.
"Maybe it's the damn house," he muttered. "Been a while since I slept here... so I'm imagining things."
Arthur sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, elbows on his knees, hands hanging loose between them. His head tilted down slightly. Those glowing violet eyes dimmed but never quite went out. He glanced at the far corner of the room again. Still nothing. But his instincts never lied.
He lay back down, body sinking into the mattress like a man returning to a battlefield instead of a bed. One arm draped across his chest. The other slid beneath the pillow where a sword is resting just in case.
His eyes lingered on the ceiling as he whispered into the stillness, voice touched by bitterness.
"I can't even sleep properly no more…"
And with that, Arthur closed his eyes again.
But his senses and discomfort did not truly settle.
****
The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the estate, pouring golden light across the floors. Footsteps, soft and certain, ascended toward the upper floor. There was no need to knock. No need to announce herself. She had done this too many times to count in the past.
Dressed in a deep blue robe, her ashen white hair pulled back in a loose braid, Arthur's mother pushed open the door to his old room. The hinges gave a quiet groan, as if even they remembered who once slept there.
She smiled before even stepping in.
"Arthur," she called, her voice bright, hopeful tinged with the warmth only a mother's heart could shape. "It's breakfast. You should come down. I even made the thing you like with the.."
Her voice trailed off.
The bed was empty.
The sheets were tousled, proof that he had slept here, at least for a while. The pillows still bore the faintest impression of his form. And yet the room was empty now, save for the scent of something faintly metallic in the air, power and magic.
She stood there for a long moment, hand still resting on the doorknob, staring at the bed with something caught between disappointment and understanding.
Her shoulders rose with a sigh, long, drawn from a place deep in her chest and then she let it go with a weary smile.
"At least he stayed for the night," she murmured softly, her voice more tender now. "That's something."
Her fingers brushed the edge of the doorframe as if to anchor herself, and she turned to leave, the faint echo of her steps retreating down the hallway.
From farther down the stairs, a voice called out familiar, amused, impossible to mistake.
"Let me guess," Adam said, a teasing edge curling into his words. "He's gone."
She didn't answer right away. Just the faint smile lingered on her face as she reached the landing.
Adam's laughter rang out through the house then light, almost boyish, he was standing by the kitchen doorway, leaning on the frame with a mug of coffee in his hand.
"I mean," he said after a moment, quieter now, "at least he came back to visit. That's... progress, right?"
She nodded, though the smile on her lips was lined with ache. "Yes.."
****
GOTHAM – ARTHUR'S ESTATE
The black iron gates of the Blackwynd estate creaked open with a hiss, the morning fog parting before Arthur's presence. Gotham's sky was its usual shade of bruised grey, the kind that spoke of rain but never delivered it an ever-present gloom that clung to the old bones of the city, depressing as ever.
The shadows seemed to lean toward him, recognizing their master had returned.
The grand doors swung open before he could lift a hand.
"Welcome back, Master Arthur."
George stood at the threshold, dressed in his usual tailored vest and crisp white gloves, posture impeccable. His hair was slicked neatly back, and a thin smile traced his lined face calm, composed, utterly loyal.
Arthur gave a tired nod, shrugging off the weight of the recent events as best he could as he stepped inside.
"I take it," George continued as he followed, "that you were in Jump City with the family. Master Adam informed me of your sudden appearance there yesterday."
Arthur exhaled through his nose, his eyes those cold, glowing eyes scanning the familiar interior of the manor. "I was," he said. "Though my visit wasn't exactly... scheduled. Someone attacked my shadows there, specifically looking for me."
George arched an eyebrow at that but offered no immediate shock. "Unpleasant business, no doubt," he said. "Though Miss Raven arrived yesterday at night. She informed me of the details said she was under your orders. She's taken residence below, in your private wing. The one you refer to as... the 'base.'"
Arthur blinked once, surprised for only a fraction of a second. "I told her to come just in case someone tries to attack my shadows here. Didn't expect her to do that immediately... I wonder what her team feels like now.."
George allowed himself the faintest of smiles. "She arrived last night. Cloaked in shadow, not a sound to her step. Quite the entrance if I do say so myself. I took the liberty of preparing her quarters."
Arthur nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks. I had to stay the night there because of, uh…"
"Your mother, I presume?" George finished gently, folding his hands behind his back.
Arthur sighed, half amused, half resigned. "Exactly."
George chuckled softly, the sound like wind brushing through old library shelves. "Lady Blackwynd has a way of ensuring her sons remain grounded... whether they like it or not, even if they have enough power to destroy the world, she is still stronger."
"She's relentless," Arthur muttered. "But it was good to see her. Even if I vanished before breakfast again."
"Indeed she is."
That drew the faintest smirk to Arthur's lips.
He paused at the landing of the grand staircase, casting one last glance through the high windows. The grey light of Gotham was as indifferent as ever.
Then his eyes narrowed.
"Well," he said, voice low, steady, purpose threading every syllable. "Let's head below. My knight is waiting for me."
George dipped his head. "Of course, Master Arthur."
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want