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SM/DC Chapter 134 : Warmth in the Aftermath
🕑 Added 2025-05-31 22:23:11 +0000 UTCThe first light of morning spilled gently through the tall windows of Arthur’s bedroom, casting the space in a golden glow. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, leaving the world outside soft and still, draped in silence. The only sound now was the rhythmic whisper of wind brushing past the stone.
Arthur woke up first.
His eyes opened slowly, painlessly, recovered, his wounds were no more thanks to his passive ability. The ache in his muscles had faded. The shadows within his body were calm, no longer restless. Now he felt truly… whole.
And then he noticed her.
Raven lay beside him, the curve of her back barely covered by the linen sheet, her breathing even and slow. Her violet hair fanned across the pillow between them, a strand resting lightly against his chest.
He didn’t move for a moment he just looked.
There was something surreal about this. Not the magic, not the battle he had, not the near-apocalypse. Just her. Here. Beside him, a companion.
His hand lifted slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, careful not to wake her too harshly.
But she did at his touch.
Her eyes opened halfway, still hazy from sleep, and landed on him. For a moment, neither said a word. Then Arthur’s lips curled into a small smile.
“Good morning,” he said quietly. “Beautiful.”
Raven blinked a few times, like her brain needed a second to catch up. Then her lips quirked back, equally soft.
“…Good morning, idiot.”
He chuckled, but before he could reply, the memories clearly rushed back to her all at once. Raven's eyes widened slightly, her face turned a red, way too red, and with a sudden gasp she pulled the covers up to her chin.
“Oh my god...” she muttered, voice muffled as she buried her face half into the pillow, half into the sheet. “I...I can’t believe we actually..”
Arthur propped himself up on one elbow, still smiling, entirely too amused.
“You did kiss me first, you know.”
“Arthur.” she groaned, eyes wide and mortified.
“Just saying.”
She glared at him from under the blanket, cheeks flushed. “That’s not helping.”
Arthur just grinned mischievously.
Before she could throw something at him, the door creaked open.
Click.
A sharp, refined voice broke the quiet of their moment.
“Good morning, Master Arthur. Miss Raven.”
Arthur turned his head sharply, caught between surprise and confusion.
George stood impeccably composed in the doorway, silver tray in hand, a steaming teapot and two cups resting atop it alongside coffee. Not a wrinkle in his suit, not a single twitch of surprise on his face. As if walking in on his master and a half-demon sorceress tangled in post-battle bliss was the most routine part of his morning duties.
“I took the liberty of preparing something for your inevitable awkward morning, I didn’t know what the miss would like to have in the morning so I prepared both tea and coffee.” he said, setting the tray gently onto the small table by the window. “Chamomile. To soothe the nerves.”
Raven sank deeper beneath the covers.
Arthur rubbed a hand down his face. “George… remind me to fire you later.”
George raised an eyebrow, entirely unfazed. “Shall I begin writing the termination letter now, sir, or after you’ve both dressed appropriately?”
There was a long pause.
Arthur opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
Nothing came out.
And then Raven still hidden under the sheets snorted. Tried to hold it in. Failed. The laugh burst from her, quiet and lovely, and utterly uncontrollable.
Arthur gave George a flat look, though the corner of his mouth twitched in betrayal.
“Just…” he sighed, lifting a hand toward the door and making a vague shooing gesture. “Get out.”
“Very good, sir,” George replied with a slight bow, and walked off with perfect dignity leaving behind only the faint scent of tea.
****
the scent of freshly steeped coffee and the distant aroma of something baking something George had no doubt spent hours preparing. Arthur had thrown on a pair of dark slacks, shirt still unbuttoned as he stood by the window, coffee in hand, his silhouette outlined by the soft daylight.
Behind him, Raven sat cross-legged on the bed, draped in one of his black shirts, sleeves far a bit too long on her. Her expression was calm now comfortable in the quiet, in the warmth, in him.
She watched Arthur sip his coffee, the muscles in his back moving slightly as he did, and with a slight smirk said, “I like your butler.”
Arthur glanced back at her with one brow raised. “He’s not a butler. He’s more of a… Caretaker, not that I need one but I haven’t figured out how or why but I enjoy his company here. I did say it gets lonely and dull here.”
Raven chuckled lightly. “Sounds like a butler to me.”
He gave her a look, half amused, half tired, and turned back toward the window. He took another sip of the coffee, then looked over his shoulder again.
“Got any plans now?” he asked, voice casual, though his eyes carried more weight than his tone.
Raven hesitated.
Her smile faded slightly. She stared down at her hands for a moment before replying, voice quiet and honest.
“I don’t know. I’ll probably go back to the Titans.” A pause. “Though… I’m not sure I can face them. Not after everything that happened.”
Arthur didn’t rush her answer. He nodded slowly, setting the coffee cup down on the windowsill as he began buttoning his shirt.
“They were worried too,” he said simply, eyes focused on the buttons. “They wanted you to be safe as well, I know I don’t exactly like that team... but I like that about them.”
“Even though I was the one who did the heavy lifting after all..” Arthur added matter of fact.
Her eyes lingered on him, thoughtful, and then she slipped off the bed, walking toward him without a sound.
Just as he adjusted the collar, she stepped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her forehead rested lightly between his shoulder blades.
“I know Arthur,” she murmured. “Or… I could stay here and be…”
“MASTER ARTHUR!”
Both of them flinched.
George’s voice rang from the hallway, perfectly timed, clear as a bell.
“Breakfast is ready. I’ve prepared a selection based on your respective preferences, sir.”
Arthur groaned aloud, head tipping back in frustration. Raven nearly jumped back, stifling a laugh into Arthur’s shoulder.
“Damn it, George..” Arthur called toward the door, not even trying to mask his exasperation. “We’re coming!”
There was a faint, polite pause before George’s reply echoed back.
“Very good, sir. I shall keep it warm, I prepared something for Miss Raven as well, both of you need energy after all.”
Raven flushed instantly.
Arthur stared at the door like he was calculating how long it would take to shadow-slap George into the sun.
Raven laughed into his back, unable to stop herself.
Arthur sighed, resting a hand on hers at his waist. “Remind me to put him on laundry duty for the next month.”
****
The dining room of the Blackwynd Estate was as refined as it was a bit ominous. Sunlight filtered through tall windows draped with heavy, dark curtains drawn halfway open. The long obsidian table was set for two, with intricate silverware, elegant black porcelain, and a single vase of white flowers placed in the center like a strange apology for all the gothic ambiance.
Raven sat at one end, curled into the seat with her legs crossed at the ankle, dressed casually in a deep purple hoodie and leggings. Across from her sat Arthur, freshly dressed. Between them, breakfast everything perfectly arranged, courtesy of George.
George himself stood in the background, tall and composed, hands folded behind his back like a sentry.
“Must be nice,” Raven said as she cut into her toast, “waking up in a manor like this with a personal chef-butler.”
George gave a slow bow, unfazed. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Miss Raven. Though I would argue my culinary skills are imperfect as of now.”
Arthur smirked. “Don’t encourage him.”
“You wound me, sir,” George replied smoothly, gliding toward the side table to refill the coffee carafe.
Arthur turned his attention back to Raven. “Are you really feeling okay Raven?”
Raven met his gaze across the table. Her expression was calm, but her fingers briefly tightened around the handle of her mug.
“Yeah. I think so. Azarath still echoes in my head… but it’s quieter now it’s not like before not even close I don’t feel any sort of pressure. It’s like a storm that finally passed.” She took a sip, her eyes softening as they lingered on his.
Arthur leaned back in his chair, relaxed in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.
“You know,” Arthur said, casually, “you look different now, Rachel.”
Raven paused mid-bite.
Her violet eyes lifted slowly, her voice quiet but touched with genuine surprise. “That’s the first time you’ve called me that.”
Arthur blinked, then shrugged slightly. “What do you prefer to be called then?”
Raven smiled faintly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m fine with both.” Her eyes lingered on him. “But it sounded… nice.”
He met her gaze, something warm and unspoken passing between them.
Before the moment could deepen, a voice buzzed softly from the TV mounted in the corner of the room.
George, ever timely, stepped over and unmuted it with a remote.
“and in Metropolis, damage assessments are still underway following the devastating clash and destruction caused between what the masses are calling a demon… and another demon.”
The screen showed grainy footage of a blurry image of Arthur, bones protruding from his gauntlets, eyes burning violet as he fought Trigon amidst burning ruins and shattered concrete.
The news anchor continued: “No confirmation yet on who this unidentified figure is, though speculation continues. Some believe he is part of the League. Others…”
Arthur groaned, setting down his fork. “Great. They’re calling me a demon now too.”
Raven didn’t even look up from her plate. “Did you see how you fight?”
Arthur raised a brow.
She smirked, sipping her coffee. “Demon is an understatement.”
Arthur scoffed. “Oi.”
George cleared his throat from the corner, hands clasped politely. “If I may, sir, your tendency to appear cloaked in shadows, flanked by monstrous warriors, while dismembering superhumans with weird weaponry, does little to dissuade such public perception.”
Raven tried to hold in a laugh and failed, her shoulders shaking slightly.
Arthur leaned back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. “They know nothing.”
Before Raven could add anything, Arthur’s phone vibrated on the table beside him. He glanced at the screen.
“It’s Robin,” he said, looking up.
Raven’s amusement faded slightly as she tilted her head. “Wonder what he wants.”
Comments
DarkVerse
Can someone tell me Arthur's appearance?, I totally got lost
