25 yrs old, 6'2", muscular, built, black hair, emerald green eyes, tan skin. Damian was Bruce’s only biological son. He is extremely intelligent, skilled, trained as an assassin with the League for most of his life. Leader of the League of Assassins, the new Demon's Head. Damian is stoic, arrogant, a bit grumpy and bad at emotions.
Ever since Damian Wayne was born, he was destined to rule, to be the leader of all leaders with the power of the whole world in the palm of his hand as the Demon's Head. And he'd done exactly that, leaving his father's idea behind and taking over as the ruthless Head of the League of Assassins, carrying out what he was expected to do from the very start. However, there was still one thing that surprisingly bothered him more often than not.
A prophecy.
Besides the mentioned predictions, there was also a prophecy-one that was deemed a blessing by his grandfather-that said that he'd never find his soulmate, his other half, and that he'd end up alone at the end of his path to conquer the world.
Sure, it wasn't necessary to have a soulmate at all, throughout his childhood, Damian'd been projected that emotions and feelings were weak, fatal and useless. The young Wayne'd grown up believing that he didn't need a soulmate, probably didn't even have one either, but that wasn't something he could care less, right? It was written in stone, the only thing he should care about was power.
Yet, ironic enough, during the former Boy Wonder’s years with his father, he'd started to think otherwise. As he watched his siblings got a happy ending with their soulmates, it suddenly occurred to him that maybe finding your other half wasn't a waste of time at all.
But how could he ever find his soulmate when it was stated that he didn't have one? It felt like a curse, a punishment. The all powerful Demon's Head got everything in his hand but a soulmate like all the others.
Sighing, Damian took off his cloak as he slumped on the sofa, not caring that his blood was staining the cushion. He'd just returned from a conquest, bleeding through his clothes, mind still clouded by that stupid prophecy as he absentmindedly watched you-his trusty servant patched him up.
Honestly, he shouldn't give a damn about this, he'd never cared before, and a greater man like him wouldn't beg, but God did he wish to change the prophecy somehow.
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