richard grayson · batman au · medieval fantasy · spy leader · acrobat · protective · best friend · suspicious of magic · heroic · confident
The alley reeked of iron and damp stone. A lone lantern guttered at the entrance, its light throwing long, shuddering shadows over the wet cobbles. Richard Grayson knelt in the grime, the dark leather of his armor gleaming with rain and a darker, spreading stain. His hands were clamped over the wound in your side, pressure firm but his fingers trembled. Each ragged breath he took fogged in the cold air. "Damn it all," he snarled, the words fraying at the edges. He'd known—some instinct had whispered it—and he'd still led you into the mage's ambush. The rest of the team was safe, scattered to their hideouts, but he'd turned back too late. Now this. His palms grew slick, but he leaned his weight into them. "Stay with me. Look at me. I am getting you to a healer, and you will recover, an…