Chapter Text
Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the marketplace. It may not be purchased of the merchants, for can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.
-Oscar Wilde
Tim hated working with Damian. It wasn't that he didn't like his little brother… Okay, no, it was exactly that. He didn't like Damian, and if the constant insults, death threats, and attempted fratricide were anything to go by, the feelings were more than mutual.
"Remember, we are here to find the missing people first and foremost. We can not risk them disappearing again,” Tim said.
Damian sucked on his teeth in lieu of a response before jumping down the broken skylight. Tim sighed, watching him go.
Over the last few weeks, they had received reports of people, mostly homeless women, going missing throughout Gotham. They had traced the disappearances to a cult calling themselves "The Acolytes of the One True King" but the information they found on them was incomplete at best. According to what Tim had been able to dig up, the Acolytes had been active for the last fifteen years. They show up once a year, always in a different place. Always with the same MO. 25 people go missing in the weeks leading up to the end of October, then on the night of Halloween, some kind of ritual takes place. All that has ever been found were the bodies of the missing women, their faces twisted in terror and pain.
It was only sheer luck that they knew where they would be tonight. One of the women had escaped and ran right into Red Hood. She told him everything, and since somehow Tim had been put in charge of all cult activity, it was given to him. He would be fine dealing with the cult by himself, but Batman insisted he needed backup. Red Hood had wanted to come, but since his methods in human trafficking rings led to more corpses than answers, he got stuck with Damian.
Tim jumped down the skylight after Damian and stumbled a bit on his sprained ankle.
"Tt. Are you so incompetent that you can not even land properly?" he hissed.
Tim shot him a glare but bit back a retort. "Come on. Let's just find the hostages," he said, stalking down the hallway of the abandoned office building, keeping an ear out for any noises.
There was nothing of note on the top two floors, but three floors down things got interesting. The ceiling and floor between the levels had been removed, leaving a large open space with I-beams crisscrossing above. Down below Tim could see a massive, 12-pointed sigil painted across the floor; twenty-four missing women were tied, two together, at the points of the sigil with the twenty-fifth standing alone in the center. Figures dressed in light purple hooded robes surrounded the sigil, and a man, who must be the leader, in dark purple robes stood on a raised platform, reading aloud from an old book.
“I count 15 cultists; I’ll take the left, you go right,” Tim said— but Damian was already moving, drawing too much attention. Tim barely had time to make it to the ground and block a punch that would have knocked Robin out.
“I do not require your help!” Damian sneered.
Tim barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Alright, if that's how he wants to do it. He left Damian to his own devices and focused on the three cultists attacking him instead. The men attacking him were protecting the leader, blocking his attacks. His focus on the chant he was reciting didn’t waiver.
“Robin, get the book!” Tim shouted, worried for what the chanting might enact.
Robin gave him a scathing look but moved toward the leader regardless. Tim watched his progress, distracted enough that he missed the cultist approaching behind him.
“Watch yourself, Red.” Tim turned just in time to see the cultist go down from a blow to the head. The woman from the center of the sigil had freed herself.
“Thanks. Can you get the others out?” he asked.
“Not a problem. Get that lunatic.” The woman said with a nod.
With the hostage situation being taken care of, Tim swung his bo staff around and turned toward Damian and the leader.
“What have you done?!” he bellowed.
“Stopped your little plot, is what,” Damian said. With one swift motion, he kicked the book out of his hands.
The cultist fumbled to try and catch the book, recoiling as Damian slashed at his hands. “You’ve ruined everything!” the man bellowed, pointing at Damian. He took a step back and raised his hands, fingers splayed wide, and started chanting quickly in a language Tim had never heard.
“Robin!” Tim shouted. He knew a spell when he saw one, and Damian was just standing there!
With a burst of speed, Tim tackled Damian, but unfortunately, he was too slow. They both got hit by the spell. Everything disappeared in a blinding white light, the world dissolved around them. For one fleeting second Tim felt weightless— and then they were falling.
***
They landed with a thump and Tim saw stars as his head slammed into the ground. He pushed that pain aside and sat up despite his vision swimming.
"Are you actually stupid?" Damian shouted. "I could have taken him, easy."
"Oh, excuse me, next time I'll just let you get hit by the spell without trying to save you," Tim spat back.
"Next time you should throw yourself in front of the spell and get hit by yourself!"
Tim's vision was starting to clear, their surroundings swimming into focus. They stood in a large chamber covered in hoarfrost with a raised dais at one end. A throne made of what looked like ice rose out of the platform and floating about six inches above the seat sat a being, legs crossed and head leaning against his hand, watching them. His face was hidden by a dark hood, the only thing Tim could see was his mouth, twisted up into a smirk. A spiked crown of the same ice as the throne floated just off the being's head, letting off odd steam that sank and swirled around the figure. Tim felt his heart pound in his chest. He felt like he was being stared down by a predator. Damian must have noticed Tim's distraction because he turned to face the being.
"Don't stop on my account," the being said, his voice echoing strangely, like he was speaking in stereo. "It's been too long since anyone just dropped in."
Tim struggled to his feet, hyper-aware of the being's eyes on him. "We're really sorry for this-"
"Do not speak for me!" Damian cut off Tim's apology. Could he not see how dangerous this guy was? The last thing they should be doing was angering them. "I have done nothing to be sorry for!"
The being was quiet for a few long moments, studying them closely before he spoke. "Then perhaps you could tell me how you came to be here." Damian opened his mouth to respond, but the being held up a gloved hand. "Not you, the other one."
The other one? Him? The beings' eyes were on him. He felt like he was being inspected, weighed, and measured. "We were investigating a cult. They had kidnapped some people and were using them for some kind of ritual. We saved them, but the leader hit us with some kind of spell and we ended up here," Tim said. The being shifted on his throne, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Tim thought he could see green glowing out from under the hood.
"How interesting. May I have your names?"
The way he phrased the question niggled something in Tim's brain: Never give your name to a fae. They will take it and never give it back. One of his nannies had told him when he was young.
"You can call me Red Robin, and he is called Robin."
The being on the dais smiled with teeth that were just a bit too sharp, too long to be human. "And you can call me King Phantom."
So, he was a King? It would make sense, as they were in a throne room. Tim had met many kings over his years of being a vigilante, but none of them has the presence Phantom had. It made him wonder what Phantom is the king of. "King Phantom. Is there any way to send us home?" Tim asked tentatively.
King Phantom was quiet for a few long moments before he spoke. "It isn't easy, entering the Infinite Realms. It's even harder leaving. Death doesn't give up what is hers easily." Phantom looked up, and Tim followed his gaze. The ceiling was tall, and covered with the same ice that coated the walls. From this distance it reflected the light from the braziers dotting the hall and sparkled like diamonds.
"Death?" Damian spat. "What do you mean? We aren't dead."
"No," Phantom waved his hand as if he was brushing Damian's outburst aside. "But you stink of Death. And you," Tim shivered, feeling Phantom's eyes on him again. "You have been courting her for a long time. She claimed you both long ago, and now that you're here in her Realms, she won't want to let you leave."
"You can't just keep us here!" Damian shouted. Tim hates to agree with Damian, but he's right. Even if Phantom could keep them locked up, Bruce would come to rescue Damian. He would stop at nothing to have his son back.
"Please. We have to get back. Our family will be worried if they can't find us, and we are the only ones who know about the cult leader. They won't be able to find him without us."
Phantom sat still, watching for a long while before speaking up. "There is a way I could send one of you back, but only one. You must decide who will go and who will stay."
"I'll stay," Tim said immediately, stepping in front of Damian.
"And you? You're okay with this?" Phantom addressed Damian.
"Of course, he's useless anyway." He said it without pause, tone clipped and certain.
Tim couldn't help the wounded noise that comment pulled from him.
Phantom paused for a moment before saying in a quiet voice, "Then so be it." With a click of his fingers, a glowing green portal opened beneath Damian's feet and he was gone.
"Where did he go?" Tim asked, feeling a little panicked.
"Home," Phantom said. "Back to wherever you came from." Tim looked toward Phantom. He seemed a little less ethereal now. He was actually sitting on the throne and the crown wasn't giving off anymore mist. "Now, come along," Phantom said, stepping down from the dais and heading toward the back of the room. "We have a lot to discuss."