Cassandra's POV:
I watch him sleep, or pretend to sleep - I'm not sure which anymore. My training screams that something's wrong, but for once, I ignore it.
The peaceful night's rest still lingers in my muscles, a foreign sensation after years of light sleep and constant vigilance.
Ten years. That's how long I've been preparing for this moment. Since Luthor found me, a broken thing running from my father's legacy.
I remember that day with perfect clarity - the way he showed me the photo of his sleeping son, the purpose he offered instead of the death I expected.
"My son needs someone extraordinary," he'd said. No manipulation, no false promises. Just truth, delivered with the same precision he approached everything else.
Monthly updates followed. Photos, medical reports, status changes - I watched Samael grow through still images, memorizing every detail.
The training was intense but never cruel. No more torture, no more killing lessons.
Instead: protection, prevention, preparation. Everything I learned had one purpose - keeping him safe.
I glance at him now, supposedly asleep in his bed. His movements are too perfect for someone who spent nineteen years in a coma. Each gesture calculated, precise.
Like he's performing humanity rather than living it. It should make me wary. Instead, I find it... fascinating.
He learned sign language for me. No one's ever done that before. Most people either force me to speak or treat my preference for signing as a weakness.
But he just... adapted. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.
The week's rest bothers me though. I never sleep deeply - can't afford to, not with my training, not with my memories. But last night... no nightmares.
No phantom pains from old training sessions. Just peace. Like something was watching over me, keeping the darkness at bay.
I check the security feeds again, though I know they'll show nothing unusual. Everything's perfect.
Too perfect.
Like someone carefully edited reality to remove any trace of... of what? I'm not sure. But I know he's different. Special. Dangerous.
Maybe that's why my heart does strange things when he smiles - not the practiced charm he shows others, but the sharp, real ones he sometimes lets slip.
Or maybe it's because for ten years, I've been preparing to protect someone I only knew through photographs, and now he's here, awake, real... and nothing like I expected, yet exactly what I've been waiting for.
The sun rises higher, and soon he'll "wake up." We'll go through our routine - me cooking his breakfast because I trust no one else with his food, him making dry observations about everything while hiding whatever power - that I instinctively know he has - thrums beneath his skin.
I should report my suspicions. That's what my training demands. But... I don't want to. For the first time in my life, I want to keep a secret that isn't about violence or survival.
A secret about peaceful sleep and sharp smiles and the way my chest tightens when he looks at me like he sees all of me - the broken parts, the deadly parts - and isn't afraid.
I am Cassandra Cain. I was trained to be the perfect weapon, reformed to be the perfect guardian. And I think I might be falling for the very person I'm supposed to protect.
God help me.
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The kitchen is my domain, even after a week of settling into our routine. I prepare his breakfast with practiced precision - today it's French toast with fresh berries.
He mentioned liking sweeter breakfasts in the morning, another detail I've carefully filed away.
A week of peaceful nights. A week of watching him move through Gotham like he owns it, which in a way, he does. A week of catching those moments when he thinks no one's watching - when something ancient and powerful flickers behind his eyes.
"You're thinking too hard again," his voice breaks through my thoughts. I didn't hear him enter - I never do. For someone who was in a coma for nineteen years, he moves like a predator.
I turn, signing while plating his breakfast. 'Analyzing security.'
"Liar," he says, but his smile holds no accusation. "You're wondering about me. About what I am."
My hands freeze momentarily. He's never been this direct about... whatever it is that makes him different. I resume my movements, placing his plate before him with deliberate calm.
'Everyone has secrets,' I sign after taking my seat.
"Indeed." He cuts into his French toast with elegant precision. "Though most people's secrets don't involve sleeping better than they have in their entire lives."
My heart skips. So he knows. Of course he knows. I study his face, trying to read the truth in his expression, but it's like trying to read a book in a language I don't quite understand.
"Does it bother you?" he asks, his tone casual but his eyes intense. "The peaceful sleep?"
I consider lying, but what's the point? He reads me as easily as I read others. 'No,' I sign. 'Should it?'
His laugh is soft, dangerous in its gentleness. "Most people would be terrified, knowing something supernatural was affecting their sleep."
'Not most people,' I sign back. 'Not normal.'
"No," he agrees, his smile sharpening. "You're certainly not that."
We eat in comfortable silence, but my mind races. He's practically admitted to doing something to my sleep, yet I'm not afraid. I should be, but...
But I trust him. I... I actually trust him with more than just my safety. I trust him with my peace.
'University starts soon,' I sign after we finish eating. Three weeks until classes begin. Three weeks to ensure every security protocol is perfect, every escape route mapped, every potential threat identified.
"Worried about my academic performance?" he asks, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "Or about keeping me safe in such a... public environment?"
'Need to establish routines,' I sign. 'Class schedules. Security positions.'
"Always so professional," he muses, studying me with those impossibly old eyes. "Tell me, Cassandra, do you ever think about anything besides protecting me?"
The question catches me off guard. Of course I do. I think about the way he moves like gravity is optional.
About how he learned sign language in days when it took others months. About how safe I feel despite knowing he's probably the most dangerous being I've ever encountered.
'Job is protection,' I sign, avoiding his gaze.
"That's not what I asked." His voice is soft, but there's an edge to it that makes me look up. He's watching me with an intensity that should be frightening. Instead, it makes my pulse quicken.
'Complicated,' I finally sign.
"Isn't everything?" He stands, moving with that inhuman grace. "Walk with me. The gardens should be pleasant this morning."
It's not a request, but it's not quite a command either. I follow, because that's what I do. Because that's what I want to do.
The morning sun casts long shadows across the mansion's grounds, and I can't help but notice how his seems different from the others - larger, with strange shapes that might be wings if I look too quickly.
"Do you know what drives me, Cassandra?" he asks as we walk through the gardens. "My most fundamental goal?"
I consider the question carefully, thinking back to the reports Luthor provided after Samael woke. His first requests: gourmet meals, fine wines, expensive clothes.
The way he savors every sensation, from the texture of silk sheets to the taste of perfectly prepared coffee.
I remember how he moves through Gotham, drinking in its darkness and beauty alike. How his eyes linger on beautiful things - art, architecture, women.
The way he approaches everything like it's meant to be experienced fully, completely.
'Pleasure,' I sign after a moment. 'You want to experience everything. Feel everything.'
Which is completely logical when thinking about some of my... theories. Too powerful a soul was what was written in the records, what the mystics stated.
A too powerful soul... His seemingly easy adaptation that goes beyond a mere knowledge spell...
Was he aware all those years?
His smile widens, pleased with my observation. "Go on." he states, bringing me out of my musings.
'Food. Drink. Beauty.' I pause, then add, 'Intimacy.'
The last word makes something twist in my chest. I know what it means - what he'll want. Mr. Luthor had been thorough, taking in all possibilities and was explicit in my training about this.
I had two choices: maintain complete professional distance, or accept that Samael, like his father, would never be satisfied with just one partner, he himself having multiple mistresses.
I chose... I'm still choosing.
"Very observant," he says, his voice carrying that dangerous warmth that makes my skin tingle. "Though you've missed one crucial detail."
I look at him questioningly.
"I don't just want these things," he explains, stopping to face me as he spreads his arms. "I want them in abundance. Excess. Why have one perfect moment when you can have thousands?"
I nod, understanding. Of course he would want multiple... everything. Multiple experiences, multiple pleasures, multiple...
Something must show in my expression because his eyes narrow slightly, studying me with that impossible intensity.
"Does that bother you?" he asks as he lowers his arms, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer.
I consider lying, but he'd see through it. Instead, I sign carefully, 'Your choice.'
What I don't sign, what I keep carefully hidden behind my practiced neutrality, is how the thought of him with others doesn't bother me nearly as much as the thought of him being with anyone else first.
His eyes linger on me for a moment longer, filled with something... I can't quite make out, before he turns away. "The roses are particularly vibrant this morning," he comments, changing the subject with ease. "Nature's own pursuit of excess, wouldn't you say?"
I'm grateful for the shift in conversation, though I know he's seen more than I meant to show. We continue our walk in comfortable silence, but my mind churns with thoughts I can't quite suppress.
Ten years of preparation, of training, of choices carefully laid out. But nothing prepared me for this - for wanting something beyond my duty. For wanting to be more than just his shield.
The morning sun climbs higher, and soon we'll need to return inside. Security briefings, university preparations, the endless tasks that fill our days. I'll focus on those, on the concrete details of keeping him safe.
But tonight, when the darkness comes and that supernatural peace wraps around me like a blanket, I know I'll think about choices. About excess and abundance and being first.
About how dangerous it is to want more than what you were meant to be.
For I wasn't prepared for this. For these... feelings. I had before this already easily decided professional distance, but now...
Now, as I watch him walk ahead of me, his shadow still flickering with impossible shapes, I wonder if perhaps I was far too understimate in the effect of meeting the one who I have preparing for, for a decade.
I suppose time will tell. For now, I'll do what I do best - protect, observe, and wait.
Even if waiting has never felt quite this dangerous before.
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(Author note: So, Cassandra's pov.
Yeah, its really not easy to write her pov, I'll tell you that much. I much prefer writing her clipped words.
So yeah, there are two sides to this.
Cassandra herself has spent a decade of her life in training to protect Samael when he woke up, she doesn't resent Luthor for this, because he gave her a home, safety, and even good treatment.
She of course has been many times over the years thinking of what it would be like to meet him, since it would always of course, be a turning point in her life when it happens.
Samael himself, well... He has been growing feelings for her. It is hard to not come to love a person who you constantly can see literally every bit of loyalty and care they have towards you, which Samael can see in every action Cassandra takes as he observes her soul.
I hope you guys don't find this progressing too fast, but this seems logical to me, especially since these two aren't the dancing around things type, more very direct people.
Also, Luthor having mistresses. Yeah, nothing I researched shows that, but I doubt that guy doesn't have any. Not in the love sense of course, but for personal pleasure.
Well, I hope to see you all next chapter,
Bye!)