Shadow Monarch in DC

Chapter 529: Rest for the Weary

Gotham Arthur’s Estate -Two weeks have passed,

The light that filtered through the tall windows of Arthur’s master bedroom was soft, golden, settled on the massive bed at the center of the room.

Arthur Blackwynd lay on his back, his ashen white hair disheveled, his chest bare, the sheets pooled around his waist. His face, usually set in lines of determination and vigilance, was soft in sleep the tension that normally carved itself around his eyes had smoothed, his jaw relaxed, his breathing deep and even.

Beside him, Raven lay curled against his side, her head resting on his chest, her hair spilling across his skin like silk. Her hand was splayed across his stomach, her fingers tracing lazy patterns against his skin even in sleep. The black silk of her nightgown had ridden up, revealing the smooth expanse of her thigh where it was draped across his legs.

Arthur’s eyes opened.

For a moment, he simply lay there, watching the light play across the ceiling, feeling the warmth of Raven’s body against his, listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing. The weight of the past week, of the battles fought and the enemies defeated, seemed to lift from his shoulders.

He turned his head.

Raven’s face was peaceful in sleep, her lips slightly parted, her lashes dark against her pale cheeks. She looked younger like this.

Arthur’s hand moved, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Raven stirred.

Her eyes fluttered open, those deep violet eyes focused on Arthur’s face, and a slow smile spread across her lips.

"Good morning," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

Arthur’s smile was warm. "Good morning."

Raven stretched against him a languid, catlike movement that pressed her body against his. Her hand moved from his stomach to his chest, her fingers tracing the line of his collarbone.

"You slept," she said, her voice carrying a note of surprise. "Actually slept for once..."

Arthur’s hand found her waist, his thumb tracing circles against her hip. "So did you."

Raven’s smile widened. "I don’t remember the last time I slept that well.."

"Neither do I."

She shifted, propping herself up on her elbow, looking down at him. Her hair fell around her face.

"You’re beautiful in the morning," Arthur said.

Raven’s laugh was low. "I’m a mess."

"A beautiful mess." His hand moved from her waist to the back of her neck, pulling her down toward him. Their lips met, soft at first, then deepening.

Raven pulled back, her breath slightly uneven. "Arthur..."

"Hmm?"

"We should..." She kissed him again, cutting off her own words. "We should probably.."

Arthur’s hand moved to her thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of her nightgown. "Probably what?"

Raven’s laugh was breathless. "I don’t remember what I was about to say... that kiss took away my thoughts.."

She kissed him again, deeper this time, her body pressing against his. Arthur’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer, his lips trailing from her mouth to her jaw, down her neck.

Raven’s head fell back, a soft sound escaping her lips.

"Arthur..." she breathed.

His voice was a murmur against her skin. "Yes?"

"I.."

A knock at the door.

Raven froze. Arthur’s lips paused mid-kiss.

George’s voice carried through the heavy door, utterly indifferent to the moment he had just interrupted.

"Master Arthur, Lady Raven. Breakfast is served, I know you are both awake."

Arthur’s eyes closed. His forehead dropped to Raven’s shoulder.

"George," he said, "we are not hungry."

George’s voice was unruffled. "I have prepared a full spread, Master Arthur. Eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, pastries, and your preferred tea, first flush, steeped for exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds."

Raven’s lips pressed together, holding back a laugh.

Arthur’s voice was flat. "We will eat later.."

"I am afraid I must insist, Master Arthur." George’s tone was gently reproachful. "You have not eaten properly in three days. Lady Raven has not eaten properly in two. The body requires sustenance, particularly after the exertions of the past two weeks, you have returned from a deadly battle Afterall."

Raven buried her face in Arthur’s chest, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Arthur’s voice was a growl. "George."

"Yes, Master Arthur?"

"Go away."

"I am afraid I cannot do that." George’s voice carried the faintest hint of smugness. "The tea is getting cold, can’t you remember? You were the one who told me to wake you up Master Arthur."

Arthur stared at the door.

Raven’s laugh finally escaped, a bright laugh that filled the room.

Arthur looked down at her, "You’re laughing at me."

"I’m laughing with you," she said, still giggling. "It’s just... the tea is getting cold."

Arthur’s lips twitched.

He sighed a long, then he looked at the door.

"Fine," he called out. "We’ll be down in a moment."

George’s voice carried through the door. "Very good, Master Arthur. I shall keep the tea warm."

His footsteps retreated down the hall.

Raven collapsed against Arthur, still laughing. "He’s impossible."

"He’s a menace," Arthur agreed. "A menace with perfect timing, or the worst timing depending on how you look at it."

Raven’s laughter faded into a soft smile. She looked at him and kissed him softly.

"Later," she said.

Arthur’s smile was warm. "Later."

They disentangled themselves from the sheets, rising from the bed with the reluctance of two people who would rather have stayed there forever.

Raven’s nightgown fell back into place as she stood, her hair a cascade around her shoulders. Arthur watched her, watched the way the morning light caught her skin, the way she moved with the unconscious grace.

"What?" she asked, catching his gaze.

Arthur shook his head. "Just... looking."

Raven’s smile was soft. "Look later. The tea is getting cold."

Arthur laughed and pulled on a shirt, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it. Raven watched him, her expression warm.

They walked out of the room together, their fingers intertwined.

.

.

.

.

In the dining room, the table was a masterpiece, silver platters gleamed in the morning light, their surfaces laden with eggs and bacon, fresh fruit and pastries, toast and jams and the kind of spread that could only be prepared by someone who had dedicated centuries to perfecting the art of breakfast, though George didn’t have centuries, but he was that good.

George stood beside the table, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture immaculate. His expression was serene, the face of a man who had won a small victory and was gracious enough not to gloat.

Arthur and Raven entered the room, their hands still intertwined.

George inclined his head. "Master Arthur. Lady Raven. I trust you slept well."

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. "You know we did."

George’s lips twitched. "I am glad to hear it."

Raven took her seat, her eyes scanning the spread. "This is... a lot of food."

"One must be prepared for any eventuality, Lady Raven." George moved to pour the tea. "Especially in times of war."

Arthur sat across from her, his eyes fixed on George. "You’re insufferable, you know that."

George’s smile widened just slightly. "I have been told that before, Master Arthur."

Raven laughed.

Arthur shook his head, but he was smiling and his eyes were fixed on the window, his tea untouched, his fork hovering over his plate without actually picking anything up. The lines of tension that had smoothed during the night had returned, not fully, but enough to be noticeable.

George’s head tilted slightly.

"You seem in a bit of a bad mood, Master Arthur." His voice was carefully neutral. "Did I... interrupt something?"

Raven’s face turned crimson.

The color spread across her cheeks like wildfire, reaching her ears, her neck, the tips of her fingers as they tightened around her teacup. Her eyes went wide.

"No!" she said, her voice an octave higher than usual. "No, you didn’t. Not at all. Everything is fine, completely fine."

Arthur’s lips twitched.

"Yes, you did," he said flatly. "But oh well."

George’s expression shifted. "Oh," he said smoothly. "I see." His head bowed, a gesture of contrition that carried not a trace of actual regret. "My apologies, Master Arthur. I was unaware that my timing was... inopportune."

Raven coughed, a sharp, pointed sound that was clearly meant to change the subject.

"So!" Her voice was too bright, too casual. "Did Kara contact you?"

George’s eyebrow rose. "Who? Myself? No, Lady Raven. Lady Kara has yet to make a call. I assume she is still with Clark, back in the Fortress of Solitude."

Arthur’s jaw tightened. "Yeah, she is still there. Without trying to contact us at all." His voice clearly frustrated. "For more than two weeks now."

Raven’s expression softened. "She is so blockheaded. For no reason."

George’s voice was gentle. "As long as she is safe, Master Arthur. That is what matters."

Arthur’s eyes found the window again. "I might go see her, though." His voice was quieter now. "I think that’s what she wants."

Raven’s hand found his across the table. "You still have Doom and Igris watching over her, right?"

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Though they have reported nothing unusual."

"Good." Raven squeezed his hand. "She’s safe. She just needs time."

Arthur’s lips curved. "I know."

The silence that followed was comfortable, and then the doorbell rang.

George’s head turned toward the entrance. "I’ll see who is here."

Arthur’s eyes glowed violet.

For a moment, his gaze pierced through the walls of the Estate, through the wards and the shadows, his expression shifted into surprise.

"Why is she here?" he murmured.

Raven’s brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Diana," he said.

/-\

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